Chapter 2 - The Dead Woman’s Fingerprint
Adrian woke at 4:12 the next morning.
His first word was not a name.
It was one word.
“Titan.”
Dante answered from beside the hospital bed.
“He’s safe.”
Adrian’s eyes opened fully.
“What happened?”
“You were poisoned.”
For the first time in years, Adrian Moretti looked confused.
Not angry.
Not suspicious.
Simply lost.
Then his memory returned.
He looked toward the water pitcher on the evidence photograph Dante had brought.
“I poured it myself.”
“Who filled it?”
“Mrs. Bellini usually does.”
“She says she didn’t yesterday.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“Elena?”
Dante hesitated.
“Her prints are on it.”
Adrian looked at him.
“And?”
“She says she never touched it.”
“You believe her?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because somebody went to considerable trouble to make us stop believing her.”
Dante placed the forensic report beside him.
Adrian read the second name.
His entire body went still.
Isabella Moretti.
His wife.
Dead six years.
“That’s impossible.”
“Obviously.”
“Then whose print is it?”
“The system matched it at ninety-eight percent.”
Adrian stared at the ceiling.
Isabella had died in a car explosion outside Providence.
No body had been suitable for viewing.
Dental records identified her.
Adrian had buried a closed casket.
For six years, he had refused to speak her name inside the mansion.
Dante continued.
“There’s another problem.”
“What?”
“The water pitcher was new.”
Adrian frowned.
“How new?”
“Purchased three months ago.”
Then Isabella’s fingerprint could not possibly be old residue.
Somebody alive had placed it there.
Back at the mansion, Elena woke to find Titan sleeping outside Sophia’s door.
Not near Adrian’s room.
Not near the front staircase.
Her daughter’s.
Sophia opened the door and smiled.
“He snores.”
Titan lifted his head with dignity.
“You shouldn’t insult somebody protecting you,” Elena said.
Sophia crouched beside him.
“He likes me.”
Elena smiled despite herself.
“He apparently likes you more than most people.”
Then Sophia reached beneath Titan’s collar.
“What are you doing?”
“There’s something stuck.”
“Sophia, leave his collar alone.”
But the girl had already pulled out a tiny folded piece of paper hidden beneath the leather.
Elena frowned.
Titan’s collar was thick enough to hide a small compartment.
She had never noticed it.
Sophia handed her the paper.
“Is that Mr. Adrian’s?”
Elena unfolded it.
Her blood turned cold.
The handwriting was familiar.
She had seen it on old recipe cards stored in the kitchen.
Isabella’s.
The note contained only one sentence.
IF TITAN TRUSTS THE CHILD, ADRIAN MUST LISTEN TO HER MOTHER.
Elena sat down.
Sophia looked worried.
“Mommy?”
Elena read it again.
The child.
Her mother.
This was not general instruction.
It sounded specific.
Almost as if Isabella had known Sophia would one day enter this house.
Impossible.
Sophia had been born a year after Isabella died.
Dante arrived before breakfast.
Elena showed him the note.
He read it twice.
“Who knew you were bringing Sophia yesterday?”
“No one until six in the morning.”
“Did Mrs. Bellini?”
“I called housekeeping.”
“Anyone else?”
“The front guard when we arrived.”
Dante looked toward Titan.
“How long has that been inside his collar?”
“No idea.”
Titan had worn the same custom collar for years.
Adrian had bought it before Isabella’s death.
Dante inspected the stitching.
One section had been opened and resewn.
Recently.
“We need cameras.”
Security footage showed Titan wandering alone near the rear gardens two nights before Adrian’s poisoning.
At 2:03 a.m., the camera feed went black for ninety-one seconds.
When it returned, Titan was standing near the greenhouse.
Someone had touched his collar during that missing time.
Dante reviewed every employee schedule.
One person had been on the grounds despite being off duty.
Mrs. Bellini.
The sixty-eight-year-old house manager who had worked for the Morettis longer than Elena had been alive.
Dante found her in the pantry.
“Why were you here Monday night?”
Mrs. Bellini stopped labeling jars.
“I live here.”
“Not in the greenhouse.”
Her hands trembled.
“What did you put in Titan’s collar?”
The old woman closed her eyes.
“It wasn’t poison.”
“What?”
“It was Isabella’s note.”
Elena stepped forward.
“You knew?”
Mrs. Bellini looked at Sophia.
Then she started crying.
“I have been waiting five years for that child to walk through this house.”
Elena’s skin prickled.
“What do you mean?”
Mrs. Bellini whispered:
“Isabella knew Sophia before Sophia was born.”
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And then she said something Elena never expected.
“Elena, your daughter is the reason Isabella died.”
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