Chapter 9 - THE EXPLOSION THAT HAD THE WRONG TARGET
The explosion that killed Angelo Marquette hadn't been intended for him.
According to my father, someone else was supposed to be inside that warehouse.
Someone connected to financial records worth millions.
We sat beside Dad in the assisted-living center's private visiting room.
His memory came in fragments.
Some details were clear.
Others confused.
Rebecca reminded us not to pressure him.
Investigators would arrange appropriate interviews with specialists familiar with memory impairment.
I understood.
I didn't want the truth at the cost of hurting Dad again.
But one thing was certain.
He remembered the explosion.
He remembered Salvatore.
And he remembered someone warning him about the silver wolf.
"Who was the target?" I asked gently.
Dad stared at the table.
Then whispered, "Dominic."
I froze.
"Dominic Marquette?"
He nodded.
My stomach tightened.
Salvatore's uncle.
The man suspected of hiding my father.
The man who inherited control of Marquette Shipping.
Why would someone want to kill him?
Dad closed his eyes.
"Angelo found the accounts."
"What accounts?"
"Money. Illegal payments. Shipping contracts."
I swallowed.
Dad continued.
"Dominic was supposed to meet him."
Then he shook his head.
"No. Angelo arrived early."
My heart pounded.
"The explosion happened before Dominic came?"
Dad nodded.
His hands trembled.
"He knew."
I stared.
"Dominic knew what?"
Dad looked toward me.
Then whispered, "The warehouse wasn't safe."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
The implication was terrible.
Someone had arranged an explosion.
And Dominic may have known about the danger before his brother entered.
But memories alone couldn't establish the full sequence.
Investigators would need records.
Witnesses.
Physical evidence.
I looked toward Danny.
He was watching Dad carefully.
Then he signed something that made me smile through tears.
Ask him about the pocket watch.
I translated.
Dad looked up.
"The watch?"
I placed it in his palm.
His eyes filled.
"My father gave me this."
He slowly opened it.
Inside was a tiny photograph.
Mom.
Us.
A family before everything fell apart.
Dad began crying.
Then he touched the back of the watch.
"There's something inside."
My heart tightened.
"What?"
He pointed toward the inner case.
A small latch.
I'd never noticed it.
With help from an investigator, the compartment was examined and opened.
Inside was a folded strip of paper.
Covered in numbers.
Dad stared.
Then whispered, "The shipping accounts."
My stomach dropped.
The numbers appeared to correspond to entries on the recovered flash drive.
Investigators began reviewing them.
Within days, they identified connections to several accounts controlled by Dominic Marquette.
Some transfers occurred before the warehouse explosion.
Others followed it.
The records suggested money had been diverted through shell companies.
But the biggest discovery came from an account opened shortly before my father disappeared.
Its listed beneficiary was a minor child.
I stared at the document.
"Who?"
Detective Mitchell looked toward me.
Then at Danny.
"The account was established in Danny's name."
My heart stopped.
"Why?"
Mitchell hesitated.
"Investigators believe someone may have used his identity without authorization."
I looked toward my brother.
He was staring at the page.
Then he signed slowly.
Lily, I never had a bank account as a kid.
I nodded.
"I know."
May you like
Then Mitchell revealed the final detail.
"More than twelve million dollars moved through accounts connected to Danny's stolen identity."
