Chapter 7 - THE PROMISE HE BROKE
I wanted to hit Enzo.
For twenty-two years, he had been the man who stood between my family and danger.
Now he stood in front of me admitting he'd helped danger enter our lives.
“Start talking,” I said.
His shoulders sagged.
“The first Echo project was small. Memory exercises. Language instruction. Isabella thought it might help children who struggled in conventional classrooms.”
“And Voss?”
“She wanted measurable results. Faster training. More demanding tests.”
“Punishments?”
“Not when Isabella was there.”
“Afterward?”
He looked down.
I felt sick.
“Enzo.”
“I didn't go into the classrooms. I handled funding and security.”
“You knew enough to hide it.”
“Yes.”
The honesty no longer impressed me.
He told me Isabella had discovered how far the early research had strayed from its purpose.
She had ordered the foundation to withdraw.
Voss had lost access to the original program.
For a while.
After Isabella died, Voss had approached Enzo again.
She needed money, security access, and a recognizable charitable name.
Enzo gave her all three.
In return, Voss arranged specialized treatment and financial assistance for Mateo, Enzo's nineteen-year-old son, who had been seriously injured in an accident.
But Enzo had also received payments.
More than medical bills required.
“Why?” I demanded.
He finally met my eyes.
“Because after the first payment, I told myself the next one didn't make me any worse.”
That answer hurt more than an excuse would have.
He knew what he had done.
He had simply continued doing it.
I took the notebook from the desk.
“You're finished here.”
“Luca—”
“You will cooperate with Detective Torres. Every account. Every meeting. Every name.”
“And Mateo?”
“I'll make sure your son has proper medical care. But you don't get to purchase forgiveness with his suffering.”
Enzo looked as though he had aged ten years.
He removed his house keys.
The keys to my office.
The garage.
The gates.
He placed them on the desk.
I remembered giving him the first set when Lily was born.
I turned away before he could see my face.
That afternoon, Torres came to examine the notebook.
She took photographs, recorded Enzo's account, and began tracing the payments.
Then Marta appeared carrying Theo's old coat.
The same coat Lily had found wrapped around Cookie behind the bakery.
“I was going to wash it,” she said. “But something is sewn inside the lining.”
The coat was much too large for Theo.
Brown wool.
Frayed cuffs.
A torn buttonhole.
Inside the lining was a narrow strip of blue fabric stitched with tiny white stars.
Beside the stars were three crooked letters.
S.H.
Theo touched them.
For a moment, his expression softened.
“Soft stars,” he whispered.
“Who made them?” I asked.
His brow tightened.
“I don't remember.”
He pressed the coat against his cheek.
Then he started rocking gently.
Marta held out her hands.
“That's enough questions for today.”
I nodded.
We had spent so much time treating Theo like a mystery that I was beginning to forget he was a child.
Later, Lily took him into the garden.
She showed him how to plant tulip bulbs.
He arranged them in perfectly straight rows.
She deliberately moved one crooked.
“Flowers don't have to be perfect,” she explained.
Theo stared at the crooked bulb.
“Will it still grow?”
“Yep.”
“How do you know?”
Lily shrugged.
“Because flowers are flowers.”
He considered that.
Then he moved another bulb slightly out of line.
I watched from the terrace.
For the first time, Theo laughed.
It was a small sound.
Barely more than a breath.
But Lily looked delighted.
“Daddy! He laughed!”
I smiled.
Then Theo suddenly stopped.
He was staring at the gardeners' van beyond the hedge.
Its doors were open.
A folded transport ramp lay inside.
His entire body stiffened.
“Not the white van,” he whispered.
I crouched beside him.
“What white van?”
“The one that comes after Sunday breakfast.”
My stomach tightened.
“What happens then?”
“They take someone away.”
“Where?”
He shook his head.
“June said they were moving her.”
I remembered the girl behind the seventh window.
“When?”
Theo looked toward the driveway clock.
“Sunday.”
Today was Saturday.
“Tomorrow?”
He nodded.
Then he reached for my sleeve.
“Please don't let her go.”
I promised I would try.
But Theo wasn't finished.
He took a colored pencil from Lily's basket and drew seven little rectangles.
Six stood together.
The seventh was separated by a thick black line.
He pointed at the last rectangle.
“June goes there first.”
“Where is there?”
May you like
His eyes filled.
“The place where children don't come back.”
