Chapter 8 - THE WOMAN WAITING AT THE AIRPORT

Lucia Moretti returned to New York after eleven years with one suitcase and a violin case.

She arrived at Kennedy Airport shortly after midnight.

But she never reached the hotel where Carlo had arranged for her to stay.

The airport surveillance footage showed her walking through the arrivals hall.

Dark coat.

Shoulder-length curls.

A small silver cross around her neck.

Then a man approached.

Tall.

Gray-haired.

Wearing a black overcoat.

Victor Salerno.

The same man who searched my apartment.

I watched the footage beside Matteo.

My hands trembled.

"That's him."

Matteo nodded.

Lucia stopped walking.

Victor leaned toward her.

They spoke briefly.

Then Lucia followed him toward the parking garage.

Matteo's expression darkened.

"She wouldn't go willingly."

I studied the footage.

Then noticed something.

Lucia's fingers moved.

Small gestures.

Almost invisible.

I leaned closer.

"Wait."

Matteo looked toward me.

"What?"

"Her hands."

He frowned.

I watched again.

Lucia touched her left wrist.

Then her collarbone.

Then the strap of her violin case.

The movements seemed nervous.

But I recognized a pattern.

A system Professor Bellini used when teaching us historical communication codes.

Three gestures.

Repeated.

A location reference.

My heart quickened.

"She's sending a message."

Matteo stared.

"To whom?"

"Anyone who understands the code."

I replayed the footage.

Wrist.

Collarbone.

Case.

Then she touched her right shoulder.

The complete sequence meant:

Old chapel. East entrance. Midnight.

I turned toward Matteo.

"Your family's chapel."

His expression changed.

"At our estate?"

I nodded.

"She's telling us where they're taking her."

Matteo stood.

"We need to inform the police."

He contacted his attorney and provided the footage.

Investigators coordinated with airport authorities and local law enforcement.

Meanwhile, I called Professor Bellini.

He sounded exhausted.

"Lucia?"

"We found footage."

His voice trembled.

"Is she safe?"

"We don't know."

I explained the gestures.

The professor went silent.

Then whispered:

"Your mother taught her that code."

My eyes filled.

"Mom?"

"Yes."

He took a breath.

"She developed it while translating old Sicilian correspondence."

I looked toward Matteo.

Another piece of my mother's life I'd never known.

The professor continued.

"There's something you should understand."

"What?"

"Lucia didn't return to New York simply because Domenico threatened you."

I swallowed.

"Then why?"

"She found the original medical records."

My stomach tightened.

"About the six deaths?"

"Yes."

"And my mother?"

"Yes."

My hands began trembling.

"Where are they?"

Bellini hesitated.

"Inside the violin case."

I stared at the screen.

Lucia had been carrying the evidence when Victor intercepted her.

Matteo listened silently.

Then his expression sharpened.

"What kind of records?"

The professor answered:

"Records proving Dr. Vescari deliberately concealed changes to several patients' treatment plans."

I closed my eyes.

Mom.

Her final appointments.

The confusion.

The sudden decline.

The terrible feeling that something wasn't right.

Then Bellini whispered:

"Tessa, your mother left a video."

My heart stopped.

"A video?"

"Yes."

"What does it say?"

He hesitated.

Then answered:

"She recorded it the night before her final hospital admission."

My eyes filled.

The professor continued.

"And she named the person who ordered her medical records altered."

I couldn't breathe.

"Who?"

A long silence followed.

Then he said:

"Domenico Moretti."

But the professor wasn't finished.

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