Chapter 7 - THE KEY MARCO WANTED BACK
“Marco gave you the key?”
Jonathan stared at Meline.
She nodded.
“He put it in the envelope with the two hundred dollars and the bus ticket.”
Jonathan looked at the brass key again.
“Why would he do that?”
“I don't know. He told me someone would come for it.”
“Did anyone?”
“No.”
“Then why did you hide it?”
Meline sat beside the crib.
“Because Marco frightened me.”
Her voice was quiet.
“He kept asking whether Luca had left me anything. I told him about the coat and the watch. He searched my apartment before I moved out.”
Jonathan looked up sharply.
“He searched your home?”
“He said he needed to make sure I hadn't taken anything belonging to the family.”
“And the key?”
“I forgot it was in the envelope until I found it again months later. I didn't know what it opened, but I knew Marco wanted it kept safe.”
Jonathan frowned.
“He didn't want you to lose it.”
“No.”
“Then he didn't believe you were going to disappear forever.”
Meline looked at him.
“Maybe he knew he'd need me again.”
The possibility made Jonathan feel cold.
Marco had given Meline a key, driven her out of Providence, and told the family she was dead.
Perhaps he'd been keeping her at a distance until he needed something from her.
Jonathan examined the paper tag.
The handwriting wasn't Luca's.
It was Marco's.
For the first time, he wondered whether the key had been intended as bait.
Jonathan did not take Meline to the harbor.
Instead, he arranged for her to stay in a small furnished apartment owned by Elena's longtime friend, Mrs. Patricia Donnelly.
The building had a working elevator, a reliable heating system, and neighbors who knew one another.
Patricia was seventy-four, a retired school principal with silver hair and a habit of making soup for anyone who looked tired.
She met them in the hallway.
“So this is Meline,” she said warmly.
Meline looked embarrassed.
“Mrs. Donnelly—”
“Patricia, please.”
She looked at the baby blanket in Meline's arms.
“Is that for my new neighbor?”
Meline smiled.
“Yes.”
“Then we'll need to find you a proper rocking chair.”
Jonathan stepped forward.
“I can arrange—”
Patricia raised one finger.
“I wasn't speaking to you, Jonathan.”
Meline laughed.
It was a small sound.
But Jonathan realized he hadn't heard it in eight months.
He helped carry the bags inside.
There were clean sheets on the bed, groceries in the refrigerator, and a vase of white roses on the kitchen table.
Meline looked at the flowers.
“Did you buy these?”
Jonathan nodded.
“From the market.”
She touched one petal.
“You paid too much.”
He almost smiled.
“Probably.”
Then she turned serious.
“Jonathan, this doesn't mean we're starting over.”
“I know.”
“It doesn't mean I forgive you.”
“I know.”
She looked at him for a long moment.
“But thank you.”
He nodded.
For once, he didn't ask for anything more.
At the old shipping terminal, Jonathan arrived with Rocco and Enzo.
The north gate had been abandoned for years.
Rust covered the fence.
An old security office stood beside the entrance.
Jonathan found the lock.
The brass key fit.
Inside, the room smelled of dust and damp wood.
A filing cabinet stood beneath a broken window.
There was an empty desk and an old metal storage box.
Jonathan opened the box.
Inside were photographs.
Shipping manifests.
A cassette tape.
And a second key.
Rocco picked up one photograph.
It showed Marco standing beside Charles Bianke.
Between them was Luca.
All three men looked tense.
The photograph had been taken at the terminal.
A handwritten date appeared on the back.
October 17.
Jonathan stared at his brother's face.
Luca was holding a folder.
Marco was looking toward the camera.
Charles Bianke was looking at Luca.
Jonathan turned to the next photograph.
Elena stood beside a dark van.
She was holding her purse against her chest.
Two men stood behind her.
Then Jonathan found the final photograph.
It showed Luca walking away from the van.
Alive.
And behind him, Marco was speaking into a telephone.
Jonathan turned the picture over.
A time had been written there.
4:12 A.M.
Five minutes before Luca's watch stopped.
Rocco examined the cassette.
“There's an old player in the office.”
Enzo found it beneath the desk.
The machine worked after several attempts.
A man's voice filled the room.
Luca.
“October seventeenth. North gate. Charles Bianke has brought men to take my mother.”
Jonathan closed his eyes.
He hadn't heard his brother's voice in almost three years.
The recording continued.
“Marco says Jonathan needs to sign the harbor agreement. I told him that isn't happening.”
A door slammed in the background.
Then Marco's voice appeared.
“Luca, you're making this worse.”
“Let my mother go.”
“She'll be home before sunrise.”
“You don't get to make that decision.”
A pause.
Then Charles Bianke spoke.
“Your brother doesn't understand how much protection costs.”
Luca answered immediately.
“Then send him a bill.”
Jonathan felt tears burning behind his eyes.
His brother had always been like that.
Sharp.
Stubborn.
Unable to keep quiet when someone crossed a line.
On the tape, footsteps sounded.
Then Luca said:
“I'm taking my mother home. And tomorrow, Jonathan hears everything.”
The recording ended.
Jonathan stood perfectly still.
The tape proved the kidnapping attempt.
But it didn't prove who caused Luca's fatal accident.
Not yet.
When they returned to the city, Rocco received a message from one of his men.
“Marco's at the old restaurant.”
Jonathan turned.
“What?”
“He says he wants to talk to you.”
“Why?”
“He knows you went to the terminal.”
Jonathan looked toward the storage box.
Marco had known about the key.
Perhaps he'd given it to Meline because he wanted the box found eventually.
But why wait three years?
“Tell him I'll be there,” Jonathan said.
Rocco frowned.
“You're going alone?”
“No.”
Jonathan looked at the cassette.
“I'm bringing the truth with me.”
Marco Bellini sat alone at a table in the Moretti restaurant.
He looked older than Jonathan remembered.
His dark hair was streaked with gray.
There were deep lines around his eyes.
When Jonathan entered, Marco stood.
“Johnny.”
Jonathan stopped.
Only three people had ever called him that.
His mother.
Luca.
And Marco.
“Don't,” Jonathan said.
Marco lowered his eyes.
“I heard about Meline.”
“You told my mother she was dead.”
“Yes.”
“You stole her money.”
“Yes.”
“You threatened landlords so she couldn't find a home.”
Marco didn't answer.
Jonathan stepped closer.
“Look at me.”
Marco raised his head.
“Why?”
Marco sat down slowly.
“Because Charles Bianke threatened to kill her.”
Jonathan felt his anger shift into something colder.
“Explain.”
Marco rubbed his face.
“Eight months ago, Charles found out Meline had Luca's watch. He thought Luca had left her the terminal key.”
“He had.”
Marco shook his head.
“No. I gave her the key.”
“Why?”
“Because Charles had started searching the terminal. I needed someone outside the organization to hold the key until I knew what was safe.”
Jonathan stared at him.
“You used a pregnant woman as storage?”
Marco's voice broke.
“I thought she'd leave town.”
“You gave her two hundred dollars.”
“I know.”
“And then you told everyone she was dead.”
Marco looked at his hands.
“Charles wanted her gone. I made him believe she was.”
Jonathan leaned forward.
“Then why didn't you tell me she was alive?”
Marco's eyes filled.
“Because I was afraid you'd go looking for her, and Charles would follow you.”
Jonathan shook his head.
“You're asking me to believe every cruel thing you did was to protect her.”
“No.”
Marco looked up.
“I'm asking you to believe that I did terrible things because I was a coward.”
The room fell silent.
Then Jonathan placed the cassette on the table.
“Did you kill Luca?”
Marco stared at it.
His face drained of color.
“No.”
“Did Charles?”
Marco closed his eyes.
“Jonathan…”
“Answer me.”
Marco's voice was barely audible.
“I didn't know Luca was going to die.”
Jonathan grabbed the back of a chair.
“What happened?”
Marco looked toward the window.
May you like
Then he whispered:
“I was driving the car that forced your brother off the road.”
