Chapter 3 - THE WATCH THAT SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN THERE
Salvatore Romano looked down at his silver pocket watch.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he smiled sadly.
“Alexander, your father would be ashamed to see you treating family like this.”
Alexander remained motionless.
“My father isn't here. Emily Parker is missing. And your watch appeared beside her in a hostage video.”
Salvatore stepped closer.
“Someone is trying to turn you against me.”
“Then explain it.”
“My watch was stolen this morning. One of the hotel employees returned it half an hour ago.”
Nicholas immediately raised his head.
“Which employee?”
“I didn't ask his name.”
“You didn't ask the name of the person who returned a stolen family heirloom?”
Salvatore's expression hardened.
“Careful, Nicholas. I've known Alexander since he was born. You've known him fourteen years.”
Alexander looked between them.
For most of his life, Salvatore had been the closest thing he had to a father.
After Lorenzo Romano died, Salvatore helped Alexander rebuild the family businesses.
He attended every birthday.
Every funeral.
Every celebration.
He had even encouraged Alexander to marry Vanessa Carter.
And now his watch had appeared beside Emily.
“Uncle Sal,” Alexander said, “did you know Emily was pregnant?”
Salvatore's eyes narrowed.
“Emily who?”
“Parker.”
“Of course not.”
Alexander held up the photograph.
“This woman tried to contact me after her daughter was born. Someone intercepted her letter.”
Salvatore studied the photograph.
Then he glanced toward Rosie.
The little girl was trying to put her tiny white sneaker back onto her foot.
“That's the child from the ceremony?”
“She's my daughter.”
For the first time, Salvatore seemed genuinely shaken.
“Your daughter?”
“Yes.”
Salvatore sat heavily in a nearby chair.
“Dear God, Alexander.”
He covered his mouth.
Then, unexpectedly, tears gathered in his eyes.
“Lorenzo would have loved her.”
Alexander almost believed him.
Almost.
But Nicholas had already begun examining the security records.
“Alexander, come look at this.”
On his tablet was a list of employees who had accessed the wedding's private service entrance.
One name appeared repeatedly.
Nicholas DeLuca.
At 8:42 a.m.
At 9:17 a.m.
And again at 10:06 a.m.
The same morning Emily's video had been recorded.
Salvatore pointed at the screen.
“There's your answer.”
Nicholas shook his head.
“I entered the building at eleven.”
“Then someone used your credentials,” Alexander said.
Nicholas looked troubled.
“My access card never left my pocket.”
Salvatore leaned forward.
“Alexander, I've warned you for years that loyalty can be purchased.”
The accusation hung in the air.
Nicholas had saved Alexander's life twice.
He had been beside him when Lorenzo died.
He knew every security procedure in the Romano organization.
But that also meant Nicholas had the access necessary to hide Emily.
Alexander took the tablet.
“Both of you are staying here until we know the truth.”
Salvatore looked offended.
“You're detaining your own uncle?”
“I'm protecting my daughter.”
That ended the argument.
Twenty minutes later, federal investigator Leah Ortiz arrived.
Emily had secretly contacted Ortiz before disappearing, reporting suspicious financial transfers involving Carter-owned charities and Romano shipping businesses.
Ortiz had been investigating the accounts for months.
“We've been trying to locate Emily,” she explained. “She was supposed to give us evidence before she vanished.”
Alexander showed her the video.
Ortiz studied it carefully.
Then she noticed a detail everyone else had missed.
A narrow strip of blue-and-white tile appeared in the reflection behind Emily.
“I know that pattern.”
“Where?”
“The Carter family used it in their private art gallery on East Seventy-First Street.”
Nicholas immediately stood.
“That's three miles from here.”
Alexander reached for his coat.
But Ortiz stopped him.
“You're not going there with armed men and starting another war.”
“My daughter's mother is inside.”
“Then let me help you bring her home alive.”
Alexander looked at Rosie.
Margaret was rocking her gently.
For the first time in years, he found himself wanting something more than revenge.
He wanted tomorrow.
“Fine,” he said. “We do it your way.”
By the time investigators reached the gallery, the room was empty.
The wooden chair remained.
So did the ropes.
On the floor lay a torn piece of gray fabric.
Nicholas recognized it immediately.
Emily's coat.
But a security recording recovered from the gallery revealed something even more disturbing.
At 12:14 p.m., Emily had walked through the front entrance.
No ropes.
No visible injuries requiring assistance.
She was accompanied by Vincent Ferraro.
And she was carrying a thick blue ledger.
Alexander watched as Emily stopped beside Ferraro's car.
She opened the ledger.
Signed a document.
Then handed Ferraro the book.
Ferraro smiled.
Emily got into his car without resisting.
Nicholas swallowed.
“That doesn't make sense.”
Ortiz enlarged the document captured by the camera.
It was a transportation authorization.
Destination: a privately operated cargo vessel scheduled to leave Manhattan the following morning.
Passenger: Emily Parker.
Alexander stared at the signature.
It was hers.
Then Ortiz pointed toward the bottom of the document.
“Alexander, look at the authorization category.”
He leaned closer.
Two words had been entered in bold letters.
VOLUNTARY DEPARTURE.
May you like
Someone was preparing evidence that Emily had left New York willingly.
And if the ship sailed, there might be no official record of her kidnapping.
