Chapter 5 - THE MAN IN THE RED TRUCK
“Tell me about the man in the red truck.”
Luca crouched beside Noah's chair.
His voice was softer than I'd heard it all evening.
Noah studied him.
“He had a beard. And a scar here.”
He touched the left side of his jaw.
Luca looked toward Henry.
Henry's expression had become unreadable.
“Did my father have a scar?”
“No,” Henry replied.
“Then who did?”
Henry looked down.
“Your father's younger brother.”
Luca stood so quickly that his chair scraped the floor.
“My uncle Adrian died when I was a teenager.”
Henry nodded.
“That's what everyone believed.”
I felt a familiar frustration rising.
Another dead relative.
Another story that wasn't what it seemed.
But Henry lifted his hand.
“Before you ask, Adrian didn't disappear. He left Chicago after a violent dispute with Marco. He never came back.”
Luca stared at him.
“What dispute?”
“Adrian believed the family had become too dependent on Richard Bellini's money.”
“That sounds like something my father would have agreed with.”
“Not at first.”
Henry sat down.
“Marco wanted to move the family's shipping business into legitimate commercial contracts. Adrian believed Richard was using those same contracts to hide illegal transfers.”
Luca frowned.
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“You were seventeen. Your father wanted you finishing school, not carrying his battles.”
I looked at Noah.
He was watching the adults with growing discomfort.
“Enough for tonight,” I said.
Luca turned.
“We're close to understanding something important.”
“And Noah's exhausted.”
For a moment, Luca looked ready to argue.
Then he saw my brother's shaking hands.
He stepped back.
“You're right.”
The simple admission surprised me.
Noah quietly picked up the bracelet.
“Liv?”
“Yes?”
“Can I keep this?”
I smiled sadly.
“Of course.”
He slipped it into his pocket.
The next morning, I arrived at the Moretti mansion expecting to find my uniform folded in a cardboard box.
Instead, the staff were gathered in the kitchen.
Mrs. Whitmore, the head housekeeper, hurried toward me.
“Olivia, thank goodness.”
“What happened?”
“Miss Bellini's father has been calling every department. He's demanding the household records from the last eleven years.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did anyone give them to him?”
“Certainly not.”
Mrs. Whitmore lowered her voice.
“Mr. Moretti instructed us to preserve everything. And he said your position was secure.”
I nodded.
Then noticed Henry sitting beside the pantry.
He wore the same worn charcoal suit.
His repaired shoe rested awkwardly beneath the chair.
A steaming cup of coffee sat untouched before him.
“Mr. Walker?”
He looked up.
“Good morning, Olivia.”
“You should be resting.”
“I haven't rested properly in eleven years.”
I sat across from him.
“Then maybe it's time.”
He smiled faintly.
“You sound like your mother.”
The words softened something inside me.
“Tell me about her.”
Henry looked toward the garden.
“She was stubborn. Proud. Never impressed by money.”
I laughed quietly.
“That sounds right.”
“She once told Marco that a man who owned six warehouses should be able to afford decent coffee for his employees.”
I could almost hear her saying it.
For a moment, my mother was alive again.
Not exhausted.
Not frightened.
Just herself.
Then Henry reached into his coat.
He removed a small black-and-white photograph.
It showed a younger Marco Moretti standing beside a man with a beard.
A scar crossed the man's left jaw.
“Adrian,” Henry said.
I studied the photograph.
“Why are you showing me?”
“Because you deserve to know what happened.”
He pointed toward a date written on the back.
Three days before Marco's fatal car accident.
“I took this photograph outside the shipping office. Adrian had returned to Chicago because Marco asked for his help.”
“So he was alive.”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't he come forward after Marco died?”
Henry looked away.
“Because Richard made sure he couldn't.”
I felt my stomach sink.
“Did Richard kill him?”
“No.”
The answer surprised me.
“He had Adrian arrested under a false name in another state. Richard claimed Adrian was responsible for a warehouse theft. By the time the charges were dismissed, Marco was dead and the children were gone.”
“Where is Adrian now?”
Henry hesitated.
“Living quietly in Wisconsin. I found him six months ago.”
“Why didn't you bring him to the mansion?”
“Because he refused.”
“Why?”
Henry's voice grew heavy.
“He believed Luca had chosen Richard's side.”
Luca entered the kitchen moments later.
I showed him the photograph.
He stared at his uncle's face for a long time.
“I remember him.”
Henry nodded.
“He used to take you fishing.”
“He taught me how to tie knots.”
Luca smiled without happiness.
“He said if you couldn't untangle your own mess, you shouldn't blame someone else for making it.”
Henry chuckled.
“That sounds like Adrian.”
Then Luca's face hardened.
“I want to see him.”
Henry shook his head.
“He won't come here.”
“Then I'll go to him.”
“Not yet.”
Luca's expression darkened.
“You've spent eleven years hiding things from me, Henry.”
“I know.”
“I'm done asking permission.”
Henry stood.
“Then listen to this before you leave.”
He placed another object on the table.
A red truck key.
The plastic handle was worn smooth.
“Adrian gave me this when I found him.”
Luca stared.
“What is it?”
“The key to the truck Noah remembers.”
“Where's the truck?”
“In a storage barn outside Milwaukee.”
“Why keep it?”
“Because there's something inside Adrian couldn't bring himself to destroy.”
Three hours later, we stood inside a weathered wooden barn.
The red pickup truck sat beneath a gray canvas cover.
Its tires were flat.
Rust marked the doors.
But the silver rose medallion hanging from the rearview mirror was unmistakable.
Noah stepped toward it.
“That's the truck.”
I touched his shoulder.
“You're sure?”
He nodded.
Henry opened the driver's door.
The interior smelled of old leather.
Luca climbed inside.
He searched beneath the seats.
Nothing.
Then he opened the glove compartment.
Inside was a small child's mitten.
Yellow wool.
And a folded road map.
A route had been drawn across Illinois and Wisconsin.
At the end was a handwritten name.
MILL CREEK CHILDREN'S HOME.
Luca looked toward Henry.
“Is that where Eleanor was taken?”
Henry shook his head.
“No. That's where Adrian tried to take her.”
Noah reached for the map.
His hands began trembling.
“I remember this.”
I put an arm around him.
“What do you remember?”
“The truck stopped near a bridge. There were lights behind us.”
He closed his eyes.
“Ellie was crying.”
Then his voice changed.
“She wasn't crying because she was scared.”
“Why was she crying?”
Noah opened his eyes.
“Because she'd left someone behind.”
I looked at Luca.
“Who?”
Noah pointed toward the back seat.
“There was a baby.”
Henry stepped backward.
Luca gripped the steering wheel.
“A baby?”
Noah nodded.
“Ellie kept saying we had to go back.”
He looked at me.
“Liv, I remember what she called him.”
My heart pounded.
“What?”
May you like
Noah swallowed.
“SHE CALLED HIM LUCA'S SON.”
