Chapter 3 - THE MAN MIA CALLED DADDY
Children confuse faces.
That was what Alina told herself.
Children mix dreams with cartoons, photographs, memories they do not actually possess.
Anything was better than believing Gabriel Reyes had been watching their daughter through a window.
Vincent did not dismiss Mia.
He brought out a photograph.
Gabriel.
Thirty-two.
Dark hair.
Warm brown eyes.
Smile Alina had once trusted with everything.
Mia reached for it.
“Daddy.”
Alina’s breath broke.
“How do you know?”
Mia looked confused by the question.
“He comes when Mommy sleeps.”
The room became completely silent.
Alina sat down.
“No.”
Vincent crouched beside Mia.
“What does Daddy do?”
“He looks.”
“From outside?”
Mia nodded.
“Does he talk to you?”
“Sometimes.”
Alina covered her mouth.
“What does he say?”
Mia thought hard.
“Shh.”
Vincent’s eyes hardened.
“What else?”
“He says Mommy sad.”
Tears filled Alina’s eyes.
“Baby, when did this happen?”
Mia held up three fingers again.
Three nights?
Three times?
At three years old, numbers were unreliable.
Then she said:
“He gives truck.”
Everyone looked at the wooden toy.
Alina stared.
“I bought that at a thrift store.”
Mia shook her head.
“No. Daddy.”
“You found it in the donation box.”
“Daddy put.”
Vincent picked up the truck.
Examined it.
One wheel sat slightly crooked.
Dominic took it apart carefully.
Inside the hollow wooden body was a folded strip of paper.
A bank locker number.
And a key.
Alina’s hands began shaking.
Gabriel had given the child a key without approaching her.
Why?
Dominic traced the number.
First Midwestern Bank.
Private box.
Opened four years earlier.
Holder:
Gabriel Reyes.
Secondary access:
Alina Ruiz.
She stared.
“I never signed that.”
“Probably forged,” Vincent said.
“You say that very calmly.”
“Because people around my father forged many things.”
Another secret.
Another old sin.
They went to the bank with legal counsel.
The bank verified Alina’s identity.
The signature authorization was suspicious, but Gabriel had also left instructions allowing release if Alina arrived with the physical key.
Inside the box were three things.
A photograph.
A flash drive.
And a letter.
Alina opened the letter first.
Lina,
If you are reading this, Mia is old enough to notice more than I wanted.
Her eyes flooded.
Only Gabriel called her Lina.
I am alive.
She stopped.
Vincent stood several feet away.
Enough distance to let the grief belong to her.
Gabriel continued.
I know what my leaving did to you.
There is no excuse that will make it kind.
I disappeared because Vincent’s father believed I had betrayed him, and Frank Caruso was helping the people hunting me.
Alina looked up.
Frank.
Again.
The letter continued.
Do not trust the garage. Do not trust the vehicles. Do not let Mia ride in anything Frank prepares.
Her blood turned cold.
Mia had not randomly seen a saboteur.
Gabriel had been watching Frank.
Then another line.
I took no money.
I took proof.
Proof that Vittorio Marchetti was being robbed by someone inside his own family.
Vincent’s expression changed.
Alina kept reading.
The flash drive contains only part of it.
The rest is where Vincent will never look because grief made him stop opening that door.
Vincent frowned.
“What door?”
Alina continued.
Ask him about his sister, Sofia.
Vincent went still.
Dominic looked away.
Alina had worked in the house eight months and never heard that name.
“Who is Sofia?”
Vincent’s face closed.
“My sister.”
“Where is she?”
He did not answer.
Dominic did.
“Dead.”
“How?”
Vincent spoke this time.
“Car accident.”
Alina stared at him.
Cars.
Sabotage.
Frank.
Gabriel.
Her skin prickled.
“When?”
“Five years ago.”
One year before Gabriel’s supposed death.
Alina returned to the letter.
Gabriel’s final sentence:
May you like
Sofia’s death was not an accident.
And the man who killed her is still eating at Vincent’s table.
