Chapter 7 - The Man Who Sat Beside Vincent
The most dangerous person in the room might not have been the man threatening Vincent Moretti.
It might have been the man sitting beside him.
His name was Anthony Russo.
Forty-eight years old.
Vincent's oldest business partner.
A respected waterfront executive.
And, according to the corporate records Rebecca uncovered, the director responsible for Blackwater Maritime's operations.
I stared at his photograph.
He'd been at table twelve.
Sitting three chairs away from Vincent.
Calm.
Silent.
Watching everything.
"Did he know about the device?" I asked.
Rebecca shook her head.
"We don't know."
I studied the picture.
Anthony had smiled at me earlier that evening when I poured his wine.
He'd even thanked me.
Now I wondered whether he'd been watching to see if I noticed something unusual.
Detective Mitchell examined the financial records.
Blackwater Maritime had leased storage space near the repair yard where Caleb was exposed.
Several invoices described ordinary industrial materials.
But shipping manifests recovered from my father's notebook suggested some containers carried substances requiring specialized handling.
"If the manifests are accurate," Mitchell explained, "we may be looking at environmental violations, false shipping records, and potentially more serious offenses."
I nodded.
"What about Vincent?"
"His company's ownership is relevant, but ownership alone doesn't establish what he personally knew."
I appreciated the distinction.
Vincent wasn't innocent merely because he'd apologized.
But he wasn't automatically guilty of every decision made inside his business.
The evidence would have to decide.
That evening, Vincent came to Rebecca's office.
He arrived looking exhausted.
When Rebecca showed him the ownership records, his expression changed.
"Anthony?"
I watched him closely.
"Did you know?"
Vincent shook his head.
"Blackwater was part of a larger acquisition. Anthony handled the day-to-day operations."
I folded my arms.
"And you never checked what he was doing?"
His jaw tightened.
"Not closely enough."
I stared.
Another powerful man who hadn't asked enough questions.
Another family paying the price.
"That's becoming a familiar answer," I said.
Vincent accepted the criticism.
"You're right."
Then he turned toward Detective Mitchell.
"I'll provide the full acquisition records and authorize an independent audit."
She nodded.
"Your cooperation will be documented."
Vincent looked at me.
"Elena, I know this doesn't repair what happened to your father."
"No," I said quietly. "It doesn't."
He swallowed.
"But I want to help uncover the truth."
I studied him for a moment.
"Then stop protecting men who use your name to frighten people."
Something shifted in his face.
He looked almost wounded.
But he nodded.
"I will."
Two days later, Anthony Russo disappeared.
His office was empty.
His phone stopped working.
And several corporate files had been removed from a company server.
Investigators obtained evidence showing Anthony had been warned about the inquiries.
Someone had tipped him off.
I felt cold.
"Who knew he was being investigated?"
Detective Mitchell looked grim.
"Several people. We're narrowing it down."
Then she received another call.
Her expression changed.
"What?"
I stood.
"What's wrong?"
She listened.
Then looked directly at me.
"Elena, someone accessed your father's old medical file."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"We don't know."
I swallowed.
"Who accessed it?"
Mitchell hesitated.
"An employee at a private medical records company."
"Which company?"
She looked at Vincent.
"One affiliated with Anthony Russo."
My pulse hammered.
Then she revealed the final discovery.
"The records show your father had requested toxicology testing shortly before his death."
I stared.
"Did he get the results?"
Mitchell slowly shook her head.
"They were never placed in his official medical chart."
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And suddenly, I understood why Anthony might be searching for a dead man's records.
My father had discovered something inside his own body.
