Chapter 8 - THE PRICE OF A CHILD'S SAFETY
Nicholas held the phone high enough for me to see Sophie sleeping against Elena's shoulder.
For one terrible second, I couldn't move.
The image was live.
I recognized the cream-colored blanket across the couch.
The little purple detective hat resting beside Sophie's feet.
And the silver locket around Elena's neck.
Someone was watching them.
Someone close enough to threaten them.
I looked across Union Station.
Nicholas smiled.
Marcus stood beside him, visibly tense.
I gripped Isabella's hand.
"Stay behind me."
She obeyed.
Nicholas started walking toward us.
He moved through the evening crowd as though he owned the station.
"Hello, cousin," he said when he reached us.
I hadn't heard his voice in fifteen years.
It was deeper now.
But the arrogance was familiar.
"Nicholas."
He glanced at Isabella.
"You've grown attached to the wrong man."
She stiffened.
"Leave me out of this."
Nicholas smiled.
"You were never out of it."
I stepped between them.
"Where's the person watching Sophie?"
Nicholas lifted his phone.
"Somewhere comfortable."
"If anyone touches that child—"
"You'll do what, Dante?"
His smile faded.
"Kill me in front of two hundred commuters?"
I said nothing.
He leaned closer.
"That's the problem with you. You're still your father's son. You think fear solves everything."
"And you think threatening a five-year-old makes you strong?"
His expression flickered.
For the first time, I saw something beyond cruelty.
Bitterness.
Years of it.
"Your father erased mine," he said.
"Anthony Bell stole from this family."
"My father built half of what your father claimed."
"He framed innocent women."
Nicholas's jaw tightened.
"That's what they told you."
"That's what the evidence shows."
I held up the black case.
Nicholas's eyes followed it.
"Then you've found the final piece."
"Not yet."
He reached for it.
I moved it away.
"First, Sophie."
Nicholas sighed.
"Always negotiating."
"Always."
He looked at Marcus.
"Tell him."
Marcus stared at me.
His face was drawn.
"Dante, I never wanted the child involved."
"But you threatened her mother."
Marcus flinched.
"I know."
"Why?"
He swallowed.
"Because Nicholas said Teresa's granddaughter knew where the ledger was hidden."
"And you believed him?"
Marcus looked away.
I felt anger rising.
"We grew up together."
"I remember."
"You saved my father's life."
"I remember that too."
"Then why didn't you come to me?"
Marcus's eyes reddened.
"Because your father let everyone call my mother a thief."
I lowered my voice.
"He was trying to expose Anthony."
"That's what Raphael says."
"That's what the records show."
Marcus shook his head.
"I don't know what to believe anymore."
Nicholas interrupted.
"Enough family therapy."
He held out his hand.
"The case."
I looked at Isabella.
She understood.
I handed Nicholas the photograph but kept the flash drive.
His expression darkened.
"I said everything."
"And I said Sophie."
For several seconds, we stared at each other.
Then Nicholas smiled.
"You're becoming difficult."
"I learned from my father."
He reached into his coat.
Marcus stiffened.
But Nicholas only removed another phone.
He turned the screen toward me.
A live feed showed the interior of Raphael's safe apartment.
Elena and Sophie were there.
Raphael stood near the window.
A man wearing a maintenance uniform appeared in the hallway outside.
My stomach tightened.
Nicholas tapped the screen.
The man lifted his head toward the camera.
"Tell him to leave," I said.
Nicholas waited.
I placed the flash drive on the bench between us.
"Now."
He spoke into the phone.
"Stand down."
On the screen, the maintenance worker turned and walked away.
I exhaled.
But the relief lasted only a moment.
Nicholas pocketed the drive.
"Now we finish what our fathers started."
He turned toward Marcus.
"Take Isabella."
Marcus recoiled.
"No."
Nicholas stared.
"I gave you an instruction."
"And I said no."
Something changed in Marcus's face.
For the first time since I'd seen him at the station, he looked like the boy I'd known.
Stubborn.
Angry.
Capable of choosing for himself.
Nicholas's voice hardened.
"Remember your mother."
Marcus stepped forward.
"I remember her every day."
"Then do what I say."
Marcus shook his head.
"My mother wouldn't want me threatening a child."
Nicholas stared at him.
Then he laughed softly.
"That's touching."
He looked back at me.
"Your friend has developed a conscience."
I didn't move.
"Maybe you should try it."
Nicholas's smile vanished.
He turned and walked away.
Marcus remained beside us.
I watched Nicholas disappear into the crowd.
Then I faced my oldest friend.
"You're coming with me."
Marcus didn't argue.
"There's something you need to know," he said.
I felt a familiar chill.
"What?"
"Nicholas didn't choose Sophie because of a story Teresa told her."
"Then why?"
Marcus swallowed.
"Because Teresa gave Elena something years ago."
I looked at Isabella.
"What something?"
Marcus pointed toward the photograph inside the case.
"The original ledger wasn't a book."
I stared.
"What was it?"
"A set of financial records on magnetic tape. Teresa disguised the storage case as an ordinary children's music box."
My mind raced.
"Where is it?"
Marcus looked sick.
"Elena has it."
I remembered the first time I'd seen Sophie's room.
The stuffed animals.
The coloring books.
The small wooden music box beside her bed.
It played an old lullaby.
A tune my mother used to sing.
I stared at Marcus.
"Does Nicholas know?"
"He knows what it looks like."
My heart began pounding.
"Then why did he need Sophie?"
Marcus closed his eyes.
"Because the music box has a combination lock inside. Teresa made it part of a game only Sophie knows."
I thought of Sophie's detective hat.
Her drawings.
The bathroom hiding place.
The black circle.
She'd been showing us clues all along.
I pulled out my phone and called Raphael.
He answered immediately.
"Dante?"
"Get the music box."
"What music box?"
"The wooden one in Sophie's room."
A pause.
Then Raphael said, "Dante, Sophie doesn't have it."
My blood went cold.
"What?"
"Elena says it disappeared this morning."
I looked at Marcus.
He shook his head.
"I didn't take it."
I believed him.
Which left one possibility.
Nicholas had the box.
But he still needed the combination.
I glanced toward the station exit.
Nicholas was gone.
Then Isabella suddenly gripped my arm.
"Dante, look."
She pointed toward a security monitor above the concourse.
The local news had interrupted regular programming.
A photograph filled the screen.
Elena Rossi.
Beneath it ran a headline.
HOUSEKEEPER WANTED FOR QUESTIONING IN CONNECTION WITH MULTIMILLION-DOLLAR THEFT.
I stared.
The photograph changed.
Now it showed Sophie.
Her small face.
Her dark curls.
Her bright smile.
A reporter's voice carried over the station speakers.
"Authorities are also seeking information regarding the woman's five-year-old daughter."
My stomach turned.
Nicholas hadn't simply threatened the child.
He'd made her a target.
Marcus stared at the screen.
Then he whispered, "He promised he wouldn't do that."
I turned toward him.
"What exactly did Nicholas promise?"
Marcus's face collapsed.
"He said Elena would be safe if I helped him."
"And?"
"He said he'd never use the girl."
I grabbed his collar.
"You believed him?"
Marcus didn't resist.
His eyes filled.
"I wanted my mother's name back."
I released him.
For one terrible moment, I wanted to destroy everyone responsible.
Then I remembered Elena's words.
Don't let my mother's name become another weapon.
I took a breath.
We were going to need evidence.
Not revenge.
I looked at Isabella.
"Can you still access the envelopes?"
She nodded.
"Marcus gave me a copy of every message."
I turned to Marcus.
"And can you get us the original surveillance files?"
"Yes."
"Then we're going to expose Nicholas."
Marcus swallowed.
"How?"
I looked toward the television.
The reporter was still describing Elena as a suspect.
I felt something hard settle inside me.
"We're going to tell the truth where he can't bury it."
Then Raphael sent me a photograph from the safe apartment.
Sophie stood beside Elena, holding a piece of paper.
On it she'd drawn the music box.
Beneath the picture were four numbers.
Four.
One.
Seven.
Two.
May you like
And in childish handwriting, she'd written:
Grandma said this opens the bad man's secret.
