Chapter 2 - The Lunchbox
Elias did not touch Nora while she cried.
That surprised her more than if he had.
He simply moved the water glass closer, took a folded linen napkin from the empty place setting beside him, and waited until her breathing steadied.
No pity.
No questions.
No hand rubbing circles across her back as if she were a frightened child.
Just presence.
Nora eventually lowered her hands.
“I don’t cry,” she muttered.
“Most people say that immediately after crying.”
She gave him a look.
“That was almost funny.”
“I’ve been told I peak under pressure.”
Despite everything, the corner of her mouth moved.
Then her eyes fell to the dented lunchbox beside her chair.
The humor vanished.
Elias followed her gaze.
“What exactly happened at Saint Agnes?”
Nora leaned back.
She needed to think.
Saint Agnes House had occupied a narrow brick building in East Boston since the 1890s. Depending on which decade a historian examined, it had been a convent, a residence for immigrant women, a shelter for abused mothers, and finally a low-income boarding house before closing in 1994.
Reed Restoration Group had been hired to assess the property before redevelopment.
Malcolm had personally assigned Nora to the job.
That was what disturbed her now.
“He told me it was routine,” she said. “Structural review. Original plaster. Foundation damage. Identify anything historically significant before demolition.”
“Demolition?”
“The developer wants luxury condominiums.”
“Who is the developer?”
Nora hesitated.
“Harbor Crown Holdings.”
Something changed behind Elias’s eyes.
“You know them.”
“I know the name.”
“That means yes.”
“It means continue.”
Nora frowned but did.
“At about six tonight, I was documenting the old laundry room. There was a section of wall where the mortar didn’t match the rest. Newer bricks. Maybe late eighties or early nineties.”
She swallowed.
“I opened it.”
“And found the box.”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t call Reed?”
“I tried.”
“No answer?”
“No. Which is unusual. Malcolm answers if I call at three in the morning.”
Elias absorbed that.
“Then?”
“I took the box upstairs. Two men were waiting.”
“The men from tonight?”
“One of them.”
“What did they say?”
“That the box belonged to the client. I asked for identification. They showed me Reed Restoration credentials, but the employee numbers were wrong.”
“You memorized employee numbers?”
“I approve subcontractor access.”
“Useful.”
“They told me Malcolm had sent them.”
“And you didn’t believe them.”
“I believed Malcolm would have called me himself.”
Nora looked toward the restaurant windows.
Rain crawled down the glass in silver lines.
“So I ran.”
Elias nodded once.
“Good.”
“That’s all you have to say?”
“You are sitting here instead of in the back of a van. I support the decision.”
Her stomach tightened.
She had deliberately avoided imagining that possibility.
Elias noticed.
“Sorry.”
“No. Don’t be.”
For several seconds they sat silently.
Then Elias stood.
“We shouldn’t open it here.”
Nora immediately grabbed the lunchbox.
“I’m not giving it to you.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“Where are we going?”
“Upstairs.”
“There’s an upstairs?”
“There are four.”
Nora blinked.
“This is your building?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you owned a few restaurants.”
“I do.”
“How many is ‘a few’?”
“Twenty-three.”
She stared at him.
“Tessa is dead to me.”
That actually made him laugh.
Two minutes later, Nora followed Elias through a private elevator accessible from behind the wine cellar.
A broad-shouldered man in a dark suit joined them without introduction.
Nora looked at him.
He looked straight ahead.
“Is he your bodyguard?”
“Security director.”
“Does he have a name?”
“Gabriel.”
The man nodded politely.
“Ms. Hayes.”
“That is somehow more unsettling.”
The fourth floor was nothing like the restaurant.
It contained offices, a conference room, a kitchen, and a library overlooking the harbor. Elias led Nora into a private study where the walls were lined with books instead of weapons, which she had secretly expected.
He locked the door.
“Now?”
Nora placed the lunchbox on the desk.
The metal had once been red. Most of the paint had rusted away.
Across the top, somebody had scratched two initials.
L.H.
Nora stopped.
Elias noticed immediately.
“What?”
She ran her thumb across the letters.
“My mother’s name was Lillian Hayes.”
The room became very quiet.
“Could be coincidence,” Elias said.
“Yes.”
But neither of them believed it.
The latch had warped with age. Nora used a letter opener from Elias’s desk to pry it upward.
The lid released with a brittle metallic crack.
Inside were four objects wrapped in yellowed cloth.
The first was a bundle of photographs.
Nora lifted them carefully.
Women standing on Saint Agnes’s front steps.
Children playing in the courtyard.
Nuns beside an old station wagon.
Then one photograph froze her.
A young woman with dark hair stood at the center of the picture, perhaps nineteen years old.
Nora knew that smile.
She had seen it in every photograph from her own childhood.
“Mom.”
Elias moved closer.
Beside Lillian stood another woman, strikingly beautiful, with black hair, fierce eyes, and one arm around Lillian’s shoulders.
Elias went motionless.
Nora looked up.
“You know her.”
He did not answer immediately.
“That’s my mother.”
Nora stared at him.
The photograph slipped slightly between her fingers.
“You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
On the back, written in faded blue ink, were three words.
SUMMER, 1988.
Nora’s pulse accelerated.
“My mother never told me she lived at Saint Agnes.”
“My mother never told me either.”
The second item was a narrow accounting ledger.
Names.
Dates.
Dollar amounts.
Initials.
Payments routed through companies Nora did not recognize.
Elias did.
His expression darkened progressively as he turned each page.
“Bellini Shipping,” he murmured.
“Your family?”
“It used to be.”
He turned another page.
“Crown Municipal Services. Harbor Crown. Vantage Construction.”
“Harbor Crown owns Saint Agnes now.”
“I know.”
Nora stared.
One name appeared repeatedly beside large payments.
V. BELLINI.
Another appeared beneath it.
M. REED.
Nora felt suddenly cold.
“No.”
Elias looked at her.
“Malcolm was twenty-eight in 1988.”
She shook her head.
“He wasn’t wealthy. He tells everyone he started with nothing.”
“He may have.”
“You’re making assumptions.”
“I’m reading a ledger.”
“That could mean anything.”
“So could V. Bellini.”
“Is that your father?”
Elias’s jaw tightened.
“My father was Vittorio Bellini.”
Nora slowly sat.
The third object was an old cassette tape in a cracked plastic case.
The label read:
SAINT AGNES — IF THEY COME BACK.
Elias turned toward Gabriel.
“Find a cassette player.”
Gabriel left without a word.
The final object was a small brass key attached to a metal tag stamped with a number.
Nora picked it up.
“Bank deposit box?”
“Likely.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“I was hoping for something less obvious.”
Her phone vibrated.
Nora almost screamed.
The screen showed MALCOLM REED.
Elias’s eyes lowered to it.
“Answer.”
She did.
“Malcolm?”
His voice was warm.
Familiar.
Exactly as it had been for eight years.
“Nora, thank God. Where are you?”
Her throat tightened.
“I’m safe.”
“I heard there was an incident at Saint Agnes.”
“How?”
A pause.
“The property manager called me.”
Nora looked at Elias.
“Funny. I haven’t spoken to the property manager.”
Another pause.
Shorter.
Sharper.
“Nora, listen to me carefully. You found something that belongs to the building owner. I need you to bring it to me.”
Her heart sank.
Not because she was surprised.
Because some stubborn part of her had still hoped.
“Why?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Try me.”
“This is bigger than you understand.”
“That isn’t an answer.”
“Nora.”
For the first time, she heard something in Malcolm’s voice she had never heard before.
Not concern.
Control.
“Where are you?”
“I’m safe.”
“With Bellini?”
Elias went completely still.
Nora’s stomach dropped.
She had never mentioned Elias.
She had never told Malcolm where she was going tonight.
“How do you know that?”
Silence.
Then Malcolm exhaled.
“Nora, you need to get away from him.”
“Why?”
“Because Bellinis have been destroying people around Saint Agnes since before you were born.”
Elias’s expression did not change.
Malcolm continued.
“You think Elias Bellini is protecting you? Ask him what happened to his father.”
Nora looked at Elias.
“What happened to Vittorio Bellini?”
Elias said nothing.
Malcolm laughed quietly through the phone.
“Exactly.”
Then the call ended.
Nora lowered the phone.
“What happened to your father?”
Elias remained silent for several seconds.
“He was murdered.”
“By whom?”
“We never proved it.”
“When?”
“1994.”
Nora’s breath caught.
The same year Saint Agnes closed.
Before she could ask another question, Gabriel returned carrying a small cassette player.
But his face was different.
No longer controlled.
No longer neutral.
“Elias.”
“What?”
Gabriel held up his phone.
“Someone entered Ms. Hayes’s apartment twenty minutes ago.”
Nora shot to her feet.
“What?”
“Your building superintendent called police after smoke came from the third floor.”
Her blood went cold.
“My apartment is on the third floor.”
Gabriel’s expression hardened.
“The fire department is there now.”
Nora stared at him.
“My cat?”
Gabriel blinked.
“You have a cat?”
“Oliver. He hides under the bed when he’s scared.”
She moved toward the door.
Elias caught her wrist.
“No.”
“Let go of me.”
“You cannot go there.”
“My cat is there!”
“So are whoever set the fire.”
Nora tried to pull away.
Then Gabriel’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His eyes lifted slowly to Elias.
“The fire wasn’t an accident.”
Nora stopped breathing.
Gabriel looked directly at her.
“They found accelerant in the bedroom.”
And then he added the part that turned fear into something much worse.
“The firefighters also found a message painted across her wall.”
Elias’s voice became very quiet.
“What did it say?”
May you like
Gabriel looked at Nora.
“GIVE BACK WHAT YOUR MOTHER STOLE.”
