Chapter 8 - THE TRUTH ON THE WATER
The vessel was moving away.
Alexander ran along the pier until he reached the end.
“Emily!”
She appeared behind the railing.
For a moment, she seemed ready to jump.
Then she looked down at the dark water and stepped back.
Alexander understood.
She wasn't risking her life when Rosie was waiting for her.
Ortiz reached him seconds later.
“The Coast Guard is already moving to intercept.”
“How long?”
“They're closing the channel now.”
Alexander watched the vessel's lights moving through the darkness.
Every second felt unbearable.
Nicholas stood beside him.
“Alexander, Ferraro said he didn't kill Michael. That means he knows something about the warehouse fire.”
“Then why help Salvatore?”
“Maybe he's been lied to, too.”
Alexander turned.
Nicholas continued.
“Ferraro's father was one of the employees who disappeared that night.”
Alexander stared.
“His father?”
“Antonio Ferraro. He worked at the warehouse. His body was never officially identified.”
Suddenly, the old rivalry made more sense.
For twenty-two years, Vincent Ferraro had believed the Romano family was responsible for his father's death.
Salvatore could have used that hatred to turn him against Alexander.
But there was still something Nicholas hadn't explained.
“Why didn't you tell me any of this before?”
Nicholas looked ashamed.
“Because I helped bury the investigation.”
Alexander went completely still.
Nicholas swallowed.
“After your father died, Salvatore told me the fire was a family matter. He said reopening it would destroy everything Lorenzo had built.”
“And you believed him?”
“I wanted to.”
Alexander stepped away.
“You let an innocent man's family suffer because you didn't want to question my uncle.”
Nicholas nodded.
“Yes.”
For a long moment, neither spoke.
Then Nicholas said something Alexander had never heard from him before.
“I don't expect you to forgive me.”
Alexander looked toward the water.
“Help me bring Emily home. We'll talk about forgiveness afterward.”
Behind them, Ortiz received confirmation from her second team.
Investigators had entered the abandoned harbor administration office.
In a fire-resistant archive cabinet, they found the original warehouse shift records.
Three pages had been removed.
But the remaining records contained a reference number for an archived dispatch recording.
Ortiz's team located the recording in another secured cabinet.
It was an old magnetic tape.
Alexander watched as a technician carefully transferred the surviving audio into a digital file.
A man's voice emerged through heavy static.
“Warehouse Seventeen. Four-oh-six a.m. The exits are secured.”
Another voice answered.
“Who authorized that?”
A pause.
Then:
“Mr. S. Romano.”
Alexander felt his stomach tighten.
Ortiz replayed the recording.
There was more.
A younger man's voice shouted in the background.
“Dad! There are people inside!”
Michael.
Alexander recognized his cousin's voice from old family recordings.
The next words were almost lost beneath the static.
“Open the doors!”
Then came a man's angry response.
“Get away from there, Michael!”
The recording ended abruptly.
Alexander sat in silence.
For twenty-two years, Salvatore had mourned his son.
Had blamed Lorenzo.
Had allowed Alexander to believe his father carried the guilt.
But the recording suggested Michael had been trying to stop his own father.
Ortiz's radio crackled.
The vessel had been intercepted before reaching the main shipping channel.
Ferraro was requesting a meeting.
Not with the Coast Guard.
With Alexander.
Ortiz refused at first.
But Ferraro agreed to allow officers aboard and release his crew from the confrontation.
He also agreed to let Emily remain within sight of federal personnel.
Under those conditions, Alexander was permitted to accompany Ortiz onto the vessel.
He went unarmed.
For once, that didn't frighten him.
He was more afraid of losing Emily than of anything another man could do to him.
They found Ferraro in the main cabin.
He looked older than Alexander remembered.
Tired.
Angry.
A thick blue ledger lay on the table.
Emily sat beside the window.
Her wrists were no longer bound.
When she saw Alexander, she stood.
“Alexander.”
He crossed the room.
For a moment, neither knew what to say.
Then he touched her cheek.
“I'm here.”
Emily's eyes filled with tears.
“Rosie?”
“Safe.”
“Is she hurt?”
“Not a scratch.”
Emily pressed one hand over her mouth.
Alexander held her gently.
“She saved my life.”
Emily began crying.
“I know.”
Behind them, Ferraro cleared his throat.
“I didn't bring you here for a reunion.”
Alexander turned.
Ferraro pointed toward the ledger.
“Twenty-two years ago, my father died in a warehouse controlled by your family. Salvatore told me Lorenzo ordered the doors locked.”
Alexander placed the recovered dispatch transcript on the table.
“Then he lied to you.”
Ferraro read it.
His face slowly changed.
“No.”
Emily spoke quietly.
“Vincent, I told you there was more to the story.”
Ferraro looked at her.
“You said you had proof.”
“I do.”
Before she could continue, the cabin door opened.
Salvatore Romano stepped inside.
Two of Ferraro's guards followed him, but stopped when they saw the federal officers.
Salvatore looked at Alexander.
Then Emily.
Then the blue ledger.
His expression hardened.
“You should have stayed away from this.”
Alexander stepped between him and Emily.
“Tell me what happened to Michael.”
Salvatore looked toward the silver pocket watch lying on the table.
For the first time, the old man seemed to have aged twenty years.
“Your father didn't order that fire, Alexander.”
His voice broke.
Alexander waited.
May you like
Salvatore slowly raised his eyes.
“I did.”
