Chapter 5 - THE UNCLE WHO INHERITED EVERYTHING
The man accused in my father's recording was Salvatore's uncle.
Dominic Marquette.
Fifty-eight years old.
A respected Chicago businessman.
And the man who had taken control of Marquette Shipping after Angelo died.
Salvatore stared at the video.
His expression hardened.
For a long moment, his hands remained still.
Then he signed, Play it again.
The detective replayed the recording.
My father's voice filled the room.
"Angelo Marquette wasn't killed by his enemies."
"He was betrayed by his own brother."
I watched Salvatore carefully.
He didn't become angry.
He looked devastated.
For fifteen years, he'd believed a rival organization caused the explosion.
That story had shaped his entire life.
It had shaped the criminal reputation he'd inherited.
And now my father was suggesting the real betrayal came from inside the family.
"Did you suspect Dominic?" Detective Mitchell asked through the interpreter.
Salvatore shook his head.
"No."
His hands moved slowly.
"He raised me after my father died."
My chest tightened.
"Then why would Dad accuse him?"
Salvatore looked toward the flash drive.
"Because Michael found something."
Investigators examined the financial files.
They showed unusual transfers before and after the warehouse explosion.
Several companies were connected to Dominic.
Others appeared to be holding businesses used to move money without legitimate documentation.
Then Detective Mitchell found a payment.
Issued three days after the explosion.
A large transfer from Marquette Shipping to a company named Bellamy Hospitality Services.
My stomach dropped.
"Bellamy?"
The restaurant where I worked.
Detective Mitchell nodded.
"The company later became connected to the restaurant's ownership structure."
I stared.
Brett.
The private dining room.
The cruel joke.
The photograph of Danny.
Everything was connected.
Then the investigator traced another payment.
It went to a consulting company controlled by Brett Collins's father.
I felt sick.
"His father?"
Detective Mitchell nodded.
"He worked for Marquette Shipping fifteen years ago."
Salvatore looked toward me.
His expression changed.
Then he signed, Brett didn't assign you to my table by accident.
I swallowed.
"No."
For four years, I'd believed Brett was simply cruel.
He mocked my clothes.
Cut my shifts.
Laughed when customers complained.
And deliberately assigned me to the most feared man in Chicago.
Now I understood something frightening.
He had known my last name.
Known about Danny.
And probably known our father had left evidence.
I looked toward Detective Mitchell.
"What happened to Dad?"
She answered carefully.
"We still need to establish that."
Then the forensic specialist found another file.
A spreadsheet.
It contained employee names.
Payments.
Dates.
And one name repeated several times.
Michael Bennett.
Beside it was a notation.
Subject refuses settlement.
My hands began shaking.
The final entry was dated the night Dad disappeared.
It contained a short message.
Transfer authorized by D. Marquette.
I stared at the screen.
"Transfer?"
Detective Mitchell looked serious.
"We need to determine what that means."
Then she scrolled farther.
A location appeared.
A private property outside Milwaukee.
And beside it was a medical facility's name.
Northlake Recovery Center.
My heart stopped.
Because the final note didn't say my father had been killed.
May you like
It said:
SUBJECT ADMITTED UNDER ALTERNATE IDENTITY.
