Chapter 4 - THE CHILD WHO DISAPPEARED THIRTY YEARS AGO
I reached Agatha's apartment shortly after midnight.
The front door was open.
Her furniture had been overturned.
Broken glass covered the floor.
And the little basil plant she'd kept beside the kitchen window lay crushed beneath someone's shoe.
"Agatha?"
My voice shook.
No answer.
I searched every room.
Then I called 911.
While I waited for the police, I noticed something strange.
The apartment had been searched thoroughly.
But Agatha's jewelry box sat untouched.
So did the money she'd hidden inside an old cookbook.
Whoever had entered wasn't looking for valuables.
They were looking for information.
And perhaps for Agatha herself.
The police arrived within minutes.
I told them everything I knew.
Almost everything.
I kept the necklace hidden beneath my sweater.
Not because I wanted to obstruct their investigation.
Because I didn't yet understand why someone dangerous wanted it.
An officer asked whether Agatha had enemies.
I almost laughed.
"She's seventy-four years old. Her biggest argument last week was with the grocery store over rotten tomatoes."
But even as I spoke, I remembered Carlo's expression.
And the message on the wall.
GIVE BACK THE CHILD.
What child?
After the police finished their initial questions, I went to the church on Sullivan Street.
The lights were still on.
An elderly priest opened the side door.
"Can I help you?"
"Are you Father Matteo?"
He nodded.
"I'm Penelope Carter."
His face changed.
"Agatha sent you?"
I showed him the message.
He stepped aside.
"Come in."
The church smelled of candle wax and old wood.
Father Matteo led me into a small office.
Then he removed a blue leather-bound book from a locked cabinet.
"She told me to protect this until you came."
My hands trembled.
"What is it?"
"Your history."
I stared.
"My history?"
He opened the book.
Inside were photographs, handwritten letters, and a birth certificate.
The certificate was thirty years old.
A baby girl.
Born in Palermo, Sicily.
Mother: Lucia Romano.
Father: Antonio Bellini.
I frowned.
"I don't know these people."
Father Matteo looked at me sadly.
"Lucia Romano was Agatha's younger cousin."
I turned the page.
A photograph showed a beautiful dark-haired woman holding a newborn.
The baby wore a silver crescent necklace.
My necklace.
I stopped breathing.
"Is that me?"
Father Matteo nodded.
My mind raced.
"My mother was named Elizabeth Carter."
"Elizabeth raised you after your birth mother disappeared."
I gripped the book.
"Disappeared?"
"Lucia was protecting evidence against a powerful criminal organization."
I thought of Carlo.
Of the Moretti family.
Of Agatha's frightened messages.
"Who killed her?"
Father Matteo's eyes filled with sorrow.
"We don't know whether she's dead."
Then he opened a sealed envelope.
Inside was a letter addressed to me.
Written in Italian.
But I understood every word.
My beloved daughter,
If you're reading this, the man who stole you has found us again.
May you like
The final sentence made my blood turn cold.
Never trust the person who tells you your father is dead.
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