Chapter 2 - THE MAN WHO KNEW WHAT HAPPENED TO THOMAS
“Daniel, lock the gates. Nobody leaves.”
Luca Moretti's voice was quiet, but every person in the dining room understood the order.
His security chief reached for his radio.
Vanessa Bellini's father, Richard Bellini, rose from his chair.
“You're making a serious mistake, Luca.”
Richard was sixty-two, silver-haired, and accustomed to people listening when he spoke. His transportation company had worked with the Moretti family for fifteen years.
He had also been the man who introduced Vanessa to Luca.
“Sit down, Richard,” Luca said.
Richard glanced toward the locked dining room doors.
“You cannot hold forty-two guests hostage because an old man is confused.”
Frank Moretti struck his umbrella against the floor.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
“Not... confused.”
I stood beside his wheelchair, holding the broken wooden handle.
My wrist throbbed where Vanessa had struck it.
But Frank's fingers were trembling so badly that I was afraid he might drop the umbrella.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, “I'm right here.”
He looked at me.
Then pointed directly at Richard.
“Thomas... trusted... him.”
Richard's expression tightened.
“Of course Thomas trusted me. I knew him for decades.”
“Then you won't mind answering a few questions,” Robert Hayes said.
The retired detective stepped away from the banquet table.
Vanessa looked furious.
“You told me you were coming tonight as my guest, Robert.”
“I was,” he replied. “Until your father started lying.”
Richard's hand closed around his champagne glass.
Luca looked from Robert to Richard.
“What exactly did Thomas discover?”
Robert placed the warehouse photograph on the table.
“Three weeks ago, Thomas saw a Moretti company sedan enter a warehouse owned by Bellini Transportation.”
Richard interrupted.
“A perfectly legitimate business.”
“Then explain why the vehicle had been reported stolen two hours earlier.”
Richard said nothing.
Robert continued.
“The passenger in the back seat was someone Thomas recognized. Someone with unrestricted access to this house.”
Luca's face hardened.
“Who?”
Robert hesitated.
“That is what I was trying to confirm.”
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
“So you have no proof.”
“I have a photograph.”
“A photograph of a car.”
“And a missing driver.”
Her smile disappeared.
Luca turned toward Daniel.
“Bring me the vehicle records from the last six weeks. Every sedan, every driver, every garage access code.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And find Thomas Miller.”
Daniel nodded.
Then Frank suddenly gripped my arm.
“Emily.”
I bent toward him.
His eyes moved toward the yellow paper still lying beside the broken umbrella handle.
“Numbers.”
I picked it up.
Seven digits.
4827316\.
“Do you know what they mean?”
Frank struggled to lift his hand.
“Thomas... said... remember.”
Luca stepped closer.
“Grandpa, remember what?”
Frank closed his eyes.
For a terrible moment, I thought the effort had exhausted him.
Then he whispered two words.
“Blue book.”
Luca frowned.
“What blue book?”
I remembered something.
In Frank's sitting room, there was a narrow shelf beside the window.
Every afternoon, Thomas had helped him record appointments in a small blue notebook.
It contained birthdays, doctor's visits, and reminders about Frank's favorite routines.
Three weeks earlier, Vanessa had ordered me to clear that shelf.
She said Frank no longer needed reminders because his memory was failing.
I had carefully packed his belongings into a storage box.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said, “I think I know where it is.”
Vanessa turned sharply.
“Emily, enough.”
Luca looked at her.
“Let her speak.”
“She's been encouraging your grandfather's delusions for months.”
“She's been caring for him.”
Vanessa's face flushed.
“And I haven't?”
Nobody answered.
For the first time that evening, I noticed something beneath Vanessa's anger.
Fear.
Not merely fear of being caught.
Fear of something happening that she couldn't control.
Luca addressed me.
“Find the notebook.”
I hesitated.
“It's in the upstairs linen storage room.”
“Daniel will go with you.”
Frank tightened his grip.
“No.”
Everyone looked at him.
He shook his head.
“Emily... only.”
Luca crouched beside his grandfather.
“Why?”
Frank looked toward Richard.
His voice emerged as a frightened whisper.
“People... listen.”
Richard slammed his glass onto the table.
“This is ridiculous.”
Luca stood.
“Then perhaps you should stop making it worse.”
He motioned for two guards to remain beside the dining room doors.
Then he turned to me.
“Emily, I'll come with you.”
Vanessa stepped into our path.
“Luca, please. We need to talk privately.”
“You'll have your opportunity.”
“But you don't understand what my father—”
“Vanessa.”
His voice changed.
She stopped.
“Move.”
She stepped aside.
I had never seen Luca speak to her that way.
Neither, judging by her expression, had she.
Upstairs, the mansion was strangely quiet.
I opened the linen storage room and found the cardboard box exactly where I'd left it.
Inside were Frank's old gloves, a faded photograph of his late wife, and the little blue notebook.
Luca picked up the photograph.
His expression softened.
“My grandmother carried this everywhere.”
“She used to keep it beside his bed,” I said.
He studied me.
“You knew that?”
“Your grandfather told me. He remembers more than people think.”
Luca looked ashamed.
For a moment, he didn't speak.
Then he opened the notebook.
Most pages contained simple reminders.
Tuesday—doctor.
Thursday—park.
Sunday—flowers for Mary.
But three weeks earlier, the writing changed.
Thomas's careful handwriting appeared beneath a date.
Frank says the black sedan returned at 11:40 p.m. Richard says it never left.
Underneath was another sentence.
Do not tell Vanessa about the second key.
Luca stared at those words.
“The second key?”
I remembered the brass key Thomas always wore on a chain inside his shirt.
He once told Frank it belonged to something too important to lose.
I mentioned it.
Luca turned another page.
There was a rough drawing of the garage.
A circle marked the north wall.
Beside it, Thomas had written:
Old clock. Seven digits. Frank knows.
Luca glanced at the yellow paper.
“4827316.”
Before I could answer, Daniel's voice came through Luca's radio.
“Sir, we found the garage camera recordings.”
Luca pressed the button.
“What do they show?”
A pause.
“Thomas Miller was still on the property the night Vanessa announced his retirement.”
Luca went completely still.
Daniel continued.
“He entered the north garage at 11:52 p.m. with Richard Bellini.”
“Did he leave?”
Another pause.
“No, sir.”
My stomach tightened.
Then Daniel said something worse.
“Mr. Moretti, the footage shows Thomas being carried out forty minutes later.”
Luca closed his eyes.
“Carried?”
“Yes, sir. He wasn't moving.”
“Who carried him?”
“Two men from Vanessa's private security team.”
Luca gripped the radio.
“Where did they take him?”
“We're tracing the vehicle now.”
Then Daniel lowered his voice.
“Sir, there's another person in the recording.”
Luca looked toward the notebook in his hands.
“Who?”
Daniel answered.
“Your grandfather.”
I felt the blood leave my face.
“Mr. Frank?”
“Yes. He was standing beside Thomas before they took him.”
Luca stared at me.
Frank had not walked independently since his stroke.
Not once in the eleven months I'd worked there.
Daniel continued.
“And sir... the recording shows your grandfather handing something to Richard Bellini.”
Luca whispered, “What?”
“A small black leather case.”
May you like
Then came the words that changed everything.
“MR. MORETTI, YOUR GRANDFATHER WASN'T TRYING TO STOP THEM. HE WAS THE ONE WHO OPENED THE GARAGE DOOR.”
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