Chapter 8 - THE TRUTH BEHIND THE BROKEN WATCH
“Frank was the man Caroline trusted,” Luca said quietly.
Mrs. Wilson nodded.
“He helped raise you, Mr. Moretti. Caroline trusted him because you did.”
Luca stared at the receipt.
For two years, he'd believed Frank had been the last loyal person beside Caroline.
Now he had a document suggesting Frank had known about possible interference with her brakes.
And had remained silent.
Claire watched him carefully.
“Mr. Moretti, what does the receipt actually prove?”
Luca looked up.
“It proves Frank requested an inspection.”
“And that someone told him not to release it.”
“Yes.”
“But it doesn't prove Frank was the person who hurt her.”
Luca looked at her.
Claire continued gently.
“You've spent the night learning that people lied. Maybe the most important thing now is not deciding who lied the most, but finding out why.”
Luca took a slow breath.
She was right.
And he hated how difficult that was to accept.
He had spent his adult life making decisions quickly.
In his world, hesitation could be dangerous.
But tonight, quick conclusions had nearly turned every guilty person into a murderer and every frightened person into an accomplice.
He placed the receipt beside Olivia's camera.
“I'm going to give this to Detective Whitman.”
Olivia was still at the kitchen counter.
She looked up.
“Daddy, can I ask something?”
“Anything.”
“Why do grown-ups keep saying Mommy trusted people?”
Luca sat beside her.
“Because we're trying to understand who helped her.”
Olivia frowned.
“But Mommy trusted me.”
His expression softened.
“Yes, sweetheart. She did.”
The little girl opened her camera bag.
“She said if I got scared, I should take a picture of something good.”
Luca studied her face.
“What did you take a picture of?”
Olivia turned on the camera.
The screen showed Claire standing in the kitchen with flour on her cheek.
She was making pancakes.
Luca almost smiled.
“Miss Claire?”
Olivia nodded.
“She makes me feel safe.”
Claire lowered her eyes.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Luca leaned toward his daughter.
“She makes me feel better about this house too.”
It was the first time he'd said anything like that aloud.
A few hours later, Detective Whitman met Luca at her office.
Frank Russo was already there.
He'd come voluntarily.
His face looked exhausted.
The cracked silver watch sat on the table between them.
Whitman placed the automotive receipt beside it.
“Mr. Russo, did you request an inspection of Caroline Moretti's vehicle?”
Frank nodded.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the damage didn't make sense.”
“Explain.”
Frank rubbed his hands together.
“The vehicle was severely damaged in the collision. But one of our mechanics noticed something unusual around the braking system when the wreckage was being processed.”
“Who was that mechanic?”
“Daniel Mercer.”
“Was his finding confirmed?”
Frank shook his head.
“Not officially.”
Luca leaned forward.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Frank looked directly at him.
“Because Daniel couldn't prove whether the damage happened before or during the collision.”
“So you kept quiet?”
“No.”
Frank took a slow breath.
“I asked for a second inspection.”
Whitman examined the receipt.
“And?”
“Richard intervened. He said your father had arranged for sensitive vehicle records to be handled privately, and that making accusations without evidence would destroy Caroline's reputation.”
Luca stared.
“My father had been dead for three years.”
Frank nodded.
“I should have questioned Richard. I didn't.”
“You were my security chief.”
“I know.”
“You owed me the truth.”
Frank's eyes filled.
“I owed Caroline the truth first.”
Luca said nothing.
Frank continued.
“I went to Daniel after Richard dismissed him. Daniel had taken photographs before the wreckage was moved.”
Whitman leaned forward.
“Where are those photographs?”
Frank looked toward the silver watch.
“I gave them to Gabriel Laurent.”
Luca stared.
“Gabriel?”
Frank nodded.
“Caroline had already hired him. I thought a professional photographer could help preserve and compare the images.”
Whitman frowned.
“Why didn't Gabriel mention them last night?”
“Because he didn't know I had copied them onto the same storage device as Caroline's restaurant photographs.”
Luca looked toward the watch.
“What's the watch got to do with it?”
Frank carefully turned it over.
On the back, beneath an old scratch, was a tiny engraved number.
26\.
“The same number as the locker,” Luca whispered.
Frank nodded.
“Caroline and I arranged an emergency place to keep anything that could be used against the foundation.”
Whitman looked up.
“You told Luca you had no idea what the blue book meant.”
“I didn't know what was in the book. Caroline kept the financial records herself. I only knew about the locker.”
Luca shook his head.
“Why didn't you tell me about it after she died?”
Frank's voice broke.
“Because Antonio asked me to protect Sophie before anything else.”
Whitman folded her hands.
“Mr. Russo, hiding evidence is not the same as protecting a child.”
“I understand that now.”
Luca looked at the man who'd taught him to ride a bicycle.
Who'd stood beside him at his father's funeral.
Who'd held him upright the night Caroline died.
“You should have trusted me.”
Frank's expression crumpled.
“I did trust you, Luca. I didn't trust what you might do in your grief.”
The words hurt because Luca knew there was truth in them.
Two years earlier, he'd wanted revenge more than answers.
He'd threatened men without knowing whether they were responsible.
Frank continued.
“Caroline told me that if anything happened, I had to keep you from confronting Antonio until Sophie was safe.”
“Why?”
“Because she believed Richard was using Antonio's fear of losing Sophie to control him.”
Whitman looked toward Luca.
“We've confirmed that the Ashland Avenue property was being used for Sophie's care. We also have evidence of money moving through multiple accounts connected to Richard. The medical records are being reviewed.”
Luca nodded.
“And Antonio?”
“Still missing. But we have a possible location.”
She slid a recent photograph across the table.
It showed Antonio leaving a small clinic outside Milwaukee.
The image had been taken three weeks earlier.
He looked frail.
But unmistakably alive.
Luca studied it.
“What happens now?”
“We locate him safely. And we determine who was controlling those payments.”
Then Whitman placed a second document beside the photograph.
A transfer instruction dated March 18, 2024.
It authorized the movement of four million dollars from the Caroline Moretti Children's Fund.
At the bottom was Caroline's forged signature.
Beside it was an electronic approval.
Luca's approval.
He stared.
“That isn't mine.”
Whitman nodded.
“We're examining how the authorization was created.”
Luca felt sick.
“Someone used my credentials.”
“Yes.”
“Who had access?”
Whitman hesitated.
“Your accountant. Certain senior office staff. And anyone who could access the device used to approve the transaction.”
Luca thought about his old office.
His desk.
The tablet he kept in the drawer.
The people he'd trusted to organize his schedule.
Then he remembered something.
Caroline had once complained that the tablet was missing.
Richard told her it had been taken for repairs.
Luca looked up sharply.
“Richard had the device.”
Whitman nodded.
“We have a record of him collecting it from your office.”
“And the money?”
“Some reached companies connected to Antonio's protection arrangements. Most moved through accounts controlled by Richard.”
Luca closed his eyes.
The truth was beginning to take shape.
Caroline had discovered a scheme that started with fear and became theft.
Someone had used her foundation and Luca's name to finance it.
And when she threatened to expose the scheme, she died.
But Whitman wasn't finished.
“We also interviewed Daniel Mercer.”
Luca sat upright.
“What did he say?”
“He retained photographs and notes showing unusual damage to a brake-line fitting. A specialist is reviewing them to determine whether the damage was deliberate and whether it occurred before the crash.”
“Does he think someone tampered with her car?”
“He believes it's possible. We need the specialist's findings before drawing that conclusion.”
Luca nodded slowly.
Whitman opened another folder.
“One more thing. The hospital confirmed Caroline was admitted alive. She survived for approximately forty minutes.”
Luca's face crumpled.
Forty minutes.
Forty minutes during which he could have held her hand.
Forty minutes during which he might have heard her voice one final time.
He covered his face.
Frank moved toward him.
Then stopped.
Luca lowered his hands.
“Did she ask for me?”
Frank nodded.
“Yes.”
The room went silent.
“Did she think I abandoned her?”
“No,” Frank whispered. “She said you would come if you knew.”
Luca bent forward, overcome.
For two years, grief had lived in him like a stone.
Now it had become something heavier.
Regret.
After several minutes, Whitman gently continued.
“The hospital's intake records contain something else. Caroline had personal belongings inventoried before she was taken for treatment.”
She placed a photocopy on the table.
Luca looked at the list.
Wedding ring.
Handbag.
Silver butterfly brooch.
And one small item that had never been returned.
A child's photograph in a blue paper envelope.
Luca frowned.
“What photograph?”
Whitman looked at him.
“We don't know yet.”
Frank suddenly raised his head.
“I do.”
Luca turned.
Frank's face had gone pale.
“Caroline showed it to me in the restaurant parking lot.”
“What was it?”
Frank swallowed.
“A photograph of the person who followed her from the foundation office.”
Luca stood.
“Who?”
Frank looked toward Whitman.
May you like
Then whispered:
“IT WASN'T RICHARD. IT WAS SOMEBODY WHO HAD BEEN INSIDE YOUR HOUSE EVERY DAY SINCE CAROLINE DIED.”
