Chapter 6 - THE HOUSE ON ASHLAND AVENUE
“Who has been moving Sophie?”
Luca's question followed Richard across the dining room.
Richard stopped beside the security guards.
“I can't answer that without putting her in danger.”
Detective Whitman stood.
“Then you can explain what you know during a formal interview.”
Richard looked at her.
“Do you think everyone involved in this will cooperate with the police?”
“No,” Whitman said. “But I won't allow that possibility to become an excuse to hide a child.”
Luca looked toward Claire.
“Please stay with Olivia tonight.”
Claire nodded.
Then hesitated.
“Mr. Moretti, may I ask something?”
“Of course.”
“Has anyone checked whether Sophie's medical care was actually interrupted when those payments stopped?”
Richard looked at her sharply.
“What?”
Claire held his gaze.
“You said she was moved repeatedly. If she's ill, somebody needs to know whether she has her medication, her doctors, and a stable place to sleep.”
The room became quiet.
Luca realized he'd been focused on discovering who had betrayed Caroline.
Claire was thinking about the child at the center of the secret.
Whitman nodded.
“That's our first priority.”
She arranged for investigators to verify the ownership of the Ashland Avenue property and determine whether a child was living there.
Luca insisted on accompanying the officers once access was arranged.
Frank offered to come.
Luca shook his head.
“You stay here.”
Frank's expression fell.
“Luca—”
“I trusted you with my family. I need time before I can trust you again.”
Frank accepted the words without protest.
Before Luca left, Claire followed him into the hallway.
“Sir?”
He turned.
She held out Olivia's pink camera.
“She asked me to give you this.”
Luca took it carefully.
“Why?”
“She said her mother always carried it when she was scared.”
He looked down at the scratched plastic case.
“It's not really a very good camera.”
Claire gave a small smile.
“No, sir. But Olivia says it's good at remembering.”
Luca's throat tightened.
He placed it inside his coat.
“Tell her I'll be home before breakfast.”
“I will.”
At the Ashland Avenue house, the front windows were dark.
A worn wooden fence surrounded a narrow garden.
The brick building looked ordinary.
That was what unsettled Luca most.
He had imagined discovering a fortress or some elaborate criminal hideout.
Instead, the house had a porch swing, a child's bicycle, and a blue flowerpot beside the door.
Evidence of people trying to live quietly.
After officers established contact with the woman inside, Luca waited outside with Detective Whitman.
The woman who opened the door was in her sixties.
She introduced herself as Margaret Ellis.
“I've been expecting questions,” she said.
Whitman identified herself and explained her concerns.
Margaret looked exhausted.
“Please don't frighten Sophie.”
Luca stepped forward.
“Is she here?”
Margaret studied his face.
Then covered her mouth.
“You look like your father.”
Luca froze.
“You knew him?”
“I worked for your uncle Antonio.”
“Where is Antonio now?”
Margaret's eyes filled.
“I haven't seen him in six months.”
Luca felt his chest tighten.
“Why?”
“He left after someone found this address.”
Whitman asked whether Sophie was safe.
Margaret nodded.
“She is. She's asleep upstairs.”
“Is she receiving medical treatment?”
“Yes. Her specialist sees her at the new clinic.”
Margaret looked at Luca.
“Caroline arranged it before she died. She knew Sophie couldn't keep moving forever.”
Luca stared.
“My wife came here?”
“Several times.”
“Why didn't anyone tell me?”
Margaret hesitated.
“She said she wanted to. But Antonio begged her not to until they had proof that the danger was over.”
Luca looked around the modest hallway.
A child's winter coat hung from a hook.
Beside it was a smaller yellow raincoat.
The kind Olivia used to wear.
He pictured Caroline standing here, speaking gently to a frightened girl while carrying a secret that could destroy her marriage.
“What was Caroline afraid of?” he asked.
Margaret led them into the front room.
A framed photograph stood on the mantel.
Caroline was sitting beside Sophie at a kitchen table.
Both were smiling.
“Caroline discovered the foundation was being used to move money into accounts Antonio couldn't control,” Margaret explained.
“Richard said the money was for medical care.”
“Some of it was.”
“And the rest?”
Margaret lowered her eyes.
“Protection payments. Properties. People who promised Antonio they'd keep Sophie hidden.”
Whitman took notes.
“Who managed those arrangements?”
“Richard Bellini.”
“Who was Richard paying?”
Margaret shook her head.
“I don't know all their names.”
Then she looked at Luca.
“But Caroline discovered one of them was still working inside your house.”
Luca went cold.
“Who?”
Margaret didn't answer immediately.
Instead, she walked to a cabinet and removed a garment bag.
“Caroline asked me to keep this safe if she couldn't return.”
Luca recognized the cream-colored coat through the transparent covering.
He stepped forward slowly.
His wife's coat.
The coat she'd worn in the last photographs taken before her death.
Margaret handed it to him.
Luca touched the collar.
The fabric was soft.
Faint traces of Caroline's familiar perfume seemed to linger beneath the smell of cedar storage.
He remembered helping her into that coat on their last anniversary dinner.
She'd laughed because he struggled with the tiny buttons.
He had kissed her forehead.
And told her she looked beautiful.
Now he stood in a stranger's living room, holding the last ordinary piece of clothing she'd chosen for herself.
“Caroline said the coat would explain why she couldn't trust the financial records,” Margaret said.
Detective Whitman suggested they inspect it carefully without disturbing possible evidence.
Inside the lining, near the left pocket, was a narrow section of stitching that didn't match the original seam.
Luca remembered Caroline sewing Olivia's costumes for school plays.
She always used blue thread when repairing the inside of a garment.
The mismatched stitching was blue.
He showed Whitman.
The detective photographed the seam before arranging to preserve the garment for examination.
Margaret stepped away.
“I should check on Sophie.”
But before she reached the stairs, a small voice came from above.
“Mrs. Ellis?”
Everyone looked up.
A little girl stood on the landing.
She wore pink pajamas and held a stuffed rabbit by one ear.
Her dark hair fell loosely around her face.
“Who's that man?”
Margaret hurried toward her.
“Sweetheart, you should be sleeping.”
Sophie looked directly at Luca.
Her expression changed.
“Are you Uncle Luca?”
He felt something tighten in his chest.
“Yes.”
The little girl came down two steps.
“Caroline said you might come.”
Luca couldn't speak.
Sophie looked at the coat in his hands.
“That's hers.”
“Yes,” he whispered.
“Did you find the butterfly?”
Luca frowned.
“What butterfly?”
Sophie pointed toward the coat's collar.
“She said the butterfly tells the truth.”
Whitman examined the silver butterfly brooch attached to the fabric.
Its wings were engraved with tiny lines.
Under one wing, nearly invisible, was a small numbered marking.
Margaret stared.
“I never noticed that.”
Sophie hugged her rabbit.
“Caroline said butterflies have two wings because one wing can't do everything.”
Luca knelt so he was at eye level with her.
“What did she mean, sweetheart?”
Sophie looked thoughtful.
“She said you had the other half.”
Luca froze.
“The other half of what?”
Sophie pointed at his hand.
“Your wedding ring.”
Luca stared at the gold band he'd worn for twelve years.
Caroline had chosen matching rings.
His was heavier.
Hers had been delicate.
He suddenly remembered something she'd told him during their wedding reception.
If we ever get lost, we'll find each other.
He turned the ring slowly.
Inside was a tiny engraved butterfly.
Something he'd barely noticed in years.
Beside it were four numbers.
0417\.
Luca looked up.
May you like
Sophie whispered:
“CAROLINE SAID THAT'S THE NUMBER FOR THE BOX WHERE SHE KEPT THE PICTURE OF THE MAN WHO HURT HER.”
