Chapter 3 - THE MEDAL
Daisy was already running before Vincent finished speaking.
Matteo caught up in the corridor.
“Daisy.”
“Leo has it.”
“I heard him.”
“He wears it.”
She pushed through the rehabilitation wing doors.
A nurse called after them.
Daisy ignored her.
Leo’s room was empty.
His wheelchair was gone.
The bedcovers hung halfway to the floor.
Daisy stopped so suddenly Matteo nearly hit her.
“Leo?”
No answer.
She checked the bathroom.
Empty.
Her pulse hammered.
Then she noticed the whiteboard beside his bed.
PHYSICAL THERAPY — 8:30.
Daisy looked at the clock.
8:27.
She almost collapsed from relief.
Matteo touched her elbow.
“Gym.”
They found Leo arguing with a physical therapist beside the parallel bars.
“I can do one more.”
“You already did six.”
“Seven sounds better.”
Then Leo saw Daisy.
His expression changed.
“What happened?”
Daisy crossed the room.
“The medal Dad gave me.”
Leo touched his chest.
“What about it?”
“Give it to me.”
“Dais—”
“Now.”
He pulled the chain from beneath his shirt.
The small silver St. Christopher medal looked exactly as Daisy remembered.
Worn edges.
Tiny scratches.
Nothing valuable.
Matteo examined it without touching.
“May I?”
Leo hesitated.
Then handed it over.
Matteo turned it beneath the fluorescent lights.
“There's a seam.”
Daisy had never noticed.
Luca appeared behind them, breathing hard.
“Miller got away.”
Daisy stepped between Luca and Leo.
Luca stopped.
“I understand.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I do.”
“You knew they caused his accident.”
“Not until afterward.”
Leo stared at him.
“You were there.”
Luca looked at him.
“Yes.”
“You chased me.”
“No. Miller did.”
“You got into a black SUV.”
“I was trying to reach you before he did.”
Leo laughed bitterly.
“That worked out great.”
Luca accepted it.
No defense.
Matteo pressed his thumbnail against the medal’s edge.
It opened.
Inside was no photograph.
No microchip.
Just a tightly folded strip of yellowing paper.
Daisy unfolded it.
Four groups of numbers.
11-04.
24-17.
05-31.
19-08.
Leo frowned.
“That’s it?”
Matteo looked at Daisy.
“Do those mean anything?”
“No.”
Luca did.
His face changed.
Matteo saw it.
“What?”
“Ledger coordinates.”
Daisy turned.
“How do you know?”
“Vincent used the same system for freight manifests.”
Matteo’s eyes narrowed.
“You worked for him longer than you admitted.”
Luca nodded.
“Since I was nineteen.”
Another lie exposed.
Daisy was tired of them.
“Where’s Vincent?”
“With two of your men,” Matteo said. “And unlike Miller, he won’t be leaving.”
“Then make him tell us what the numbers mean.”
“He won’t.”
Leo reached for the paper.
“Maybe Dad already did.”
They looked at him.
Leo pointed at the first pair.
“Eleven-four. Page eleven, line four?”
Daisy looked at Matteo.
The black notebook.
They returned to the locker room.
Vincent sat on a bench with his hands secured behind him.
Two Romano men guarded the door.
His expression changed when he saw the opened medal.
“Thomas always did enjoy theatrics.”
Daisy opened the notebook to page eleven.
Fourth line.
A name.
CARLO ROMANO.
Page twenty-four, line seventeen.
THOMAS GALLAGHER.
Page five, line thirty-one.
VINCENT ROMANO.
Page nineteen, line eight.
HARRISON MILLER.
Beside each name was a number.
Matteo studied them.
“Bank accounts?”
Vincent laughed.
“Your father wasn’t that careless.”
Daisy looked closer.
Each number had one digit underlined.
Carlo: 7.
Thomas: 2.
Vincent: 9.
Miller: 4.
Leo said it first.
“A code.”
“For what?” Daisy asked.
Vincent’s smile returned.
“That is the question.”
Luca leaned against the lockers, one hand pressed to his bruised ribs.
“Union Station.”
Everyone looked at him.
“Thomas used locker 7294.”
Daisy’s stomach tightened.
“How could you possibly know that?”
“Because Vincent sent me there twelve years ago.”
Vincent’s face changed.
Luca continued.
“He thought Thomas had left something behind.”
“What did you find?” Matteo asked.
“Nothing.”
Vincent laughed softly.
“You never could lie to Matteo.”
Luca stared at him.
Then reached into his coat.
Daisy tensed.
He removed an old brass key.
Number 7294 was stamped into it.
“I found this.”
Matteo’s voice turned cold.
“You kept it for twelve years?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because by then I’d figured out Vincent wasn’t looking for money.”
Luca looked at Daisy.
“He was looking for proof.”
They drove to 30th Street Station.
Locker 7294 no longer existed.
The old storage area had been renovated years ago.
But an employee directed them to unclaimed property archives.
The brass key matched an old metal deposit box transferred during renovation.
Inside were three things.
A child’s red mitten.
A cassette tape.
And an envelope addressed in Daisy’s father’s handwriting.
FOR CARLO ROMANO — IF I FAIL TO COME BACK.
Daisy’s knees weakened.
Matteo steadied her.
This time she didn’t pull away.
She opened the envelope.
One page.
Thomas Gallagher’s handwriting.
Carlo, Vincent knows I copied the accounts.
He also knows Miller’s father was on the payroll.
Miller’s father.
Daisy looked up.
Luca whispered, “That’s why Harrison protected him.”
She kept reading.
If anything happens to me, protect Daisy and whatever children come after her.
Do not tell her why unless Vincent finds the book.
The girl deserves a life outside this.
Then one final line.
Daisy read it twice.
Matteo noticed.
“What?”
She handed him the letter.
His eyes found the sentence.
His face hardened.
And Carlo—if your son ever learns what happened that night, tell Matteo I’m sorry I let him believe the wrong man pulled him from the fire.
Matteo stared at Daisy.
“My uncle said your father saved me.”
Daisy looked toward Vincent.
“He lied.”
Vincent’s smile had vanished.
Daisy picked up the cassette.
A label was taped across it.
Two words.
THE FIRE.
Luca found an old tape player through station maintenance.
They pressed PLAY.
Static.
Then Thomas Gallagher’s voice filled the room.
Older than Daisy remembered.
Tired.
Frightened.
“If you’re hearing this, Vincent found me.”
Daisy covered her mouth.
Thomas continued.
“The Callowhill fire was not electrical.”
Matteo stopped breathing.
“It was set deliberately.”
A pause.
“And the man who carried Matteo Romano out was not me.”
Matteo’s eyes darkened.
Thomas spoke one final sentence.
“It was Vincent.”
Across the room, Matteo’s uncle smiled.
May you like
And said quietly:
“Now ask why I saved him before I spent twenty-four years trying to destroy him.”
