Chapter 4 - THE BRACELET THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN IN A GRAVE
Alessandro caught the edge of the table before he fell.
The photograph remained on the screen.
The woman's face was older than the one in the warehouse picture, but the shape of her eyes and the small scar near her chin were unmistakable.
“Lucia,” Alessandro whispered.
Vincent shook his head.
“Don't do this to yourself.”
Alessandro did not seem to hear him.
“She died in my arms.”
Nobody spoke.
“I carried her out of that warehouse. I watched her take her last breath.”
His voice cracked.
“I buried my sister.”
Mrs. Russo put a hand over her mouth.
I looked at the picture.
The woman in the passenger seat had dark hair pulled into a bun.
She wore a gray coat.
She wasn't smiling.
“Maybe it's somebody who looks like her,” I said.
Alessandro turned toward me.
For a moment, he seemed grateful that I had spoken.
“Maybe, sweetheart.”
Carlo studied the image.
“The resemblance is strong, but we can't identify her from this picture.”
Vincent rubbed his face.
“Exactly. Someone wants you to believe Lucia is alive.”
Alessandro looked at him.
“Someone?”
Vincent hesitated.
“Whoever took Alina.”
“And why would they want that?”
“To make you lose control.”
Alessandro stared at the silver bracelet.
Then he shook his head.
“Lucia was wearing that bracelet the night she died.”
Mrs. Russo swallowed.
“I remember.”
“You helped dress her.”
“Yes.”
“Did you see the bracelet go into the coffin?”
Mrs. Russo's face drained of color.
“No.”
Alessandro looked at her.
“Why not?”
“Because your uncle sent everyone out before they closed it.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“That proves nothing.”
“No,” Alessandro said. “But it tells me what we need to examine.”
He took the tablet and studied the image again.
Then he looked at me.
“Sophia, did your mother ever mention a woman named Lucia?”
I nodded.
“She called her the bird lady.”
He crouched.
“The bird lady?”
“Mama said the bird lady loved somebody very much, but nobody let them be happy.”
Alessandro's breathing changed.
“Who did she love?”
I shrugged.
“Mama said grown-up stories are complicated.”
Mrs. Russo wiped her eyes.
“That sounds like Alina.”
Alessandro sat beside me.
“Did she tell you anything else?”
I tried to remember.
Mama told stories while she braided my hair.
Sometimes they were about princesses.
Sometimes about people who had lived in River City before I was born.
“The bird lady waited at the train station,” I said.
Alessandro looked up.
“What train station?”
“The one with the big clock.”
“Union Station?”
“Yes.”
“She waited for someone?”
I nodded.
“But he didn't come.”
Alessandro stood.
“Matteo.”
Vincent looked away.
Alessandro crossed to the fireplace and rested one hand against the mantel.
For a long moment, he said nothing.
Then he spoke.
“My sister was engaged to a man I trusted more than anyone. Matteo Bellini.”
I looked at him.
“My grandpa?”
“Yes.”
“Did they get married?”
“No.”
“Why?”
Alessandro turned toward the window.
“Because I believed Matteo betrayed our family. And when Lucia died, I blamed him.”
He looked at the photograph.
“I spent twenty years hating a man who may have been trying to save her.”
Mrs. Russo began to cry quietly.
I did not understand all of it.
But I understood that my grandfather had loved someone who died.
And that Alessandro had been angry for a very long time.
“Was my grandma the bird lady?” I asked.
Alessandro turned.
“No, sweetheart. Your grandmother was another woman, a kind woman named Elena. She married Matteo years before he met Lucia. Elena passed away when your mother was little.”
I nodded.
Mama had told me Grandma Elena loved lilacs.
Alessandro continued.
“Matteo met Lucia later. He wanted to build a new life with her.”
Vincent interrupted.
“And instead he sold the warehouse location.”
Alessandro looked at him.
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps?” Vincent repeated.
“I'm beginning to think we believed whatever suited us.”
Carlo's phone vibrated.
He checked the screen.
“The medical center confirms Dominic is in his room.”
“Has anyone visited?”
“They'll review the records.”
Alessandro looked at the wooden bird.
Its chest remained open.
Inside, a narrow hollow ran toward the tail.
He held it beneath the lamp.
“Matteo made this by hand,” he murmured.
Then he noticed another groove.
He pressed it with his thumbnail.
A second compartment opened.
Inside lay a tiny brass key.
Attached was a faded blue thread.
Alessandro stared.
Mrs. Russo whispered, “That's impossible.”
Vincent pushed back his chair.
“What now?”
Mrs. Russo pointed at the key.
“Lucia wore that thread around her wrist the summer she turned twenty-one.”
Alessandro looked at her.
“You remember?”
“She lost her key at the lake house. Matteo tied it to her bracelet so she'd stop losing it.”
“What key?”
Mrs. Russo hesitated.
Then her expression changed.
“The old family chapel.”
Alessandro looked toward Carlo.
“It's been locked for years.”
“Since your father's funeral,” Carlo confirmed.
Vincent gave a tired sigh.
“We're chasing ghosts.”
Alessandro turned.
“No, Vincent. We're following things someone worked very hard to hide.”
I reached for the swallow.
Alessandro handed it back.
Its little wing was still cracked.
I ran one finger over the rough wood.
Then I noticed something tucked along the inside edge of the second compartment.
A little piece of red fabric.
I pulled it free.
“Mama's scarf,” I said.
Alessandro turned.
“What?”
I held it up.
It was no bigger than my thumbnail.
Red silk with tiny white dots.
Mama wore that scarf every Sunday.
It had been missing since the previous week.
“She cut this off,” I said.
“Are you certain?”
I nodded.
“She got mad when I spilled orange juice on it. There's a little yellow spot.”
Alessandro took the cloth.
An orange stain marked one corner.
He examined the key again.
“Alina opened this compartment.”
Mrs. Russo leaned forward.
“Then she knew about the chapel.”
“Or Matteo told her.”
I looked down.
There was one more thing Mama had said.
Something I had forgotten because I was scared.
“When I gave her the bird,” I whispered, “Mama told me not to let anybody throw it away.”
Alessandro crouched.
“Why would someone throw it away?”
“Because she said bad people don't like old things that remember.”
He took my hands gently.
“Sophia, listen carefully. Did your mother tell you where she was going?”
I thought hard.
She had been standing by the kitchen door.
She had touched the wooden swallow.
Then she whispered something.
I remembered it now.
“She said she'd come back after she talked to the man who couldn't walk.”
Carlo looked at Alessandro.
“Dominic.”
Vincent suddenly stood.
“We need to get to Saint Agnes.”
Alessandro watched him.
“Why are you so interested in my uncle?”
Vincent looked genuinely frightened.
“Because if Alina went to him, she may have discovered something dangerous.”
“What?”
Vincent's voice dropped.
“Your uncle hasn't been unable to walk for twenty years, Alessandro.”
Alessandro went still.
“What are you talking about?”
Vincent swallowed.
“He wasn't injured in the accident.”
“Then why is he in that rehabilitation center?”
“Because he doesn't want anyone to know what happened the night Lucia died.”
Carlo's phone vibrated again.
He looked at it.
His face changed.
“The center just called back.”
Alessandro took one step forward.
“And?”
Carlo looked at the screen.
“Dominic checked himself out forty minutes ago.”
“Where did he go?”
Carlo shook his head.
“He wasn't alone.”
He turned the phone so Alessandro could see the security photograph.
Dominic Moretti stood upright beside a black car.
He held a cane.
But he wasn't leaning on it.
He was smiling.
And the woman holding his arm wore Lucia's silver bracelet.
Alessandro stared at the image.
May you like
Then he whispered:
“My uncle didn't survive the truth about Lucia. He helped bury it.”
