Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN THEY CALLED VANESSA
Dominic did not speak for almost ten seconds.
Then:
“Rachel was eleven when Vanessa was born.”
Caleb answered immediately.
“I know.”
“Then don't say stupid things.”
“I didn't say Rachel gave birth to her.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
“You said she's Rachel’s.”
“Because Rachel’s father was also Vanessa’s father.”
Emma understood first.
“Half sisters.”
Dominic turned toward her.
Caleb said, “Exactly.”
Rachel’s voice broke through.
“I didn't know until four years ago.”
Dominic stared at the phone.
“You knew.”
“Only days before Hartford.”
“That was what you found?”
“Part of it.”
Dominic stepped out of the ambulance.
Rain struck his shoulders.
Emma followed.
“Tell me everything.”
Rachel inhaled.
“My father, Samuel Bennett, worked for your father before we met.”
Dominic frowned.
“I knew Samuel handled shipping.”
“He handled more than shipping.”
Rachel continued.
“Your father used him to manage a network of private accounts. Blackmail money. Bribes. Emergency funds.”
“Antonio had dozens of men for that.”
“Not money he wanted your organization to know existed.”
Dominic went quiet.
Rachel said:
“When Samuel died, I inherited a storage key. I ignored it for years. Four years ago, I opened the unit.”
“What was inside?”
“Records.”
“The ledger.”
“Yes.”
“And Vanessa?”
“Her birth certificate.”
Dominic looked back toward the ambulance.
Emma could almost see him rebuilding his childhood in his head.
Vanessa had been presented as Elena and Antonio’s late-in-life daughter.
Dominic had been sixteen when she was born.
Elena had supposedly spent months away during a difficult pregnancy.
Rachel said quietly:
“Your father had an affair with Vanessa’s mother.”
“Who?”
“I don't know. The certificate listed only Antonio.”
“Convenient.”
“I thought so too.”
Emma asked, “Why would Samuel Bennett have Vanessa’s birth certificate?”
Rachel answered:
“Because my father arranged the adoption.”
Dominic rubbed his jaw.
“So Antonio brought Vanessa home and told everyone she was Elena’s.”
“Yes.”
“Did my mother know?”
Rachel hesitated.
“I don't know.”
Dominic’s voice sharpened.
“She's been hiding with you.”
“That doesn't mean she tells me everything.”
“Apparently nobody in this family does.”
Rachel went silent.
Dominic looked at Emma.
“Your father took Rachel to Hartford.”
Emma nodded.
“My father was a private driver before his stroke. He worked for hotels, executives, anyone who booked through his company.”
“Did he ever mention the Morettis?”
“No.”
Dominic looked toward the city.
“Someone connected Samuel Bennett to Thomas Reed.”
“And then connected me to you.”
“Yes.”
Emma swallowed.
“I'm bait.”
Dominic looked at her.
“No.”
“I was placed inside your house because my father knew something.”
His gaze held hers.
“You're a witness somebody underestimated.”
It should not have comforted her.
It did.
A call came from Dominic’s search team.
“Boss, C.H.M. could be Chicago Harbor Medical.”
“Status?”
“Closed six years ago.”
“Location?”
“South Shore.”
Dominic looked at Emma.
“Stay in the car when we get there.”
She almost objected.
He added, “Please.”
That stopped her.
Dominic Moretti did not use that word often.
Not because he was rude.
Because he usually turned requests into commands before they reached his mouth.
Emma nodded.
They reached Chicago Harbor Medical twenty-three minutes later.
The abandoned hospital stood behind a chain-link fence.
Three Moretti vehicles surrounded the property.
Dominic entered with six men.
Emma stayed inside.
For four minutes.
Five.
Seven.
Her phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
A photograph arrived.
Her father.
Standing outside the ambulance.
Not the hospital.
Below it:
YOU'RE LOOKING IN THE WRONG PLACE.
Emma stared.
Then a second message appeared.
LOOK BEHIND YOU.
Her blood turned cold.
She did not turn immediately.
Instead, she looked into the side mirror.
A man sat in the rear seat.
Emma inhaled.
He held no gun.
Late fifties.
Gray suit.
Tired eyes.
“Don't scream.”
She stared at him.
“How did you get in here?”
“Your father is safe.”
“Where?”
“With Elena.”
Emma’s mind raced.
“You took him?”
“I rescued him.”
“Who are you?”
The man reached slowly into his coat.
Emma tensed.
He removed an old photograph.
Thomas Reed stood beside a younger version of the man.
Both wore driver uniforms.
“My name is Peter Walsh.”
Emma looked at him.
“My father knew you?”
“We were partners.”
“Where is he?”
“I'll take you to him.”
“No.”
Peter nodded.
“Smart.”
Emma picked up her phone.
“I'm calling Dominic.”
“If you call him, Vanessa dies.”
Emma stopped.
“What?”
Peter leaned back.
“Everything you've been told about Vanessa is missing the most important part.”
“She threatened me.”
“She was trying to make you leave.”
“She framed me.”
“To get you out of the house.”
“She knew about my father.”
“Because she recognized your last name.”
Emma frowned.
“From what?”
“From Hartford.”
The passenger door suddenly opened.
Dominic stood there.
His gun was already aimed at Peter.
Peter slowly lifted both hands.
“That was fast.”
Dominic’s face had become blank.
“Get out.”
Peter obeyed.
Emma stepped from the vehicle.
Dominic positioned himself between them.
“You have ten seconds.”
Peter looked at Emma.
“Thomas Reed is safe.”
“Where?”
“Elena moved him.”
“Where is my mother?”
Peter gave him a sad smile.
“Still cleaning up Antonio’s mistakes.”
Dominic took one step closer.
“Seven seconds.”
Peter reached into his jacket.
Three guns were raised at him instantly.
He stopped.
“Wallet.”
Dominic nodded once.
Peter removed it slowly and handed over a laminated identification card.
Retired Illinois State Police.
Dominic examined it.
Peter Walsh.
Major Crimes.
Retired nine years earlier.
“What does a retired cop have to do with my wife?”
Peter looked at him.
“I investigated the crash.”
Dominic’s eyes went cold.
“You weren't on the case file.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because the real investigation was buried.”
“By whom?”
Peter glanced at Dominic’s men.
“Are you sure you want them hearing this?”
“Yes.”
Peter sighed.
“Your father.”
Dominic almost laughed.
“My father had been dead thirteen years.”
“His network wasn't.”
That silenced him.
Peter continued.
“Antonio Moretti created something called The Covenant.”
Emma frowned.
“What is that?”
“A protection agreement among six crime families and two political families.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
He knew the name.
Peter noticed.
“You've heard of it.”
“My father used the word once.”
“What did he say?”
“That the Covenant existed so children didn't inherit wars started by their parents.”
Peter nodded.
“That was the public purpose.”
“And the private one?”
“To control the children.”
Dominic stared.
Peter explained.
“The families traded information. Secrets. Financial leverage. Insurance against betrayal.”
“The ledger.”
“Yes.”
“Rachel found it.”
“She found one copy.”
“One?”
Peter smiled grimly.
“There were seven.”
Emma asked, “Why kill her?”
“Because Rachel discovered that one of the families had started selling Covenant information outside the group.”
Dominic said, “Names.”
“I don't have all of them.”
“Give me one.”
Peter hesitated.
Dominic stepped closer.
“Give me one.”
Peter finally said:
“Vanessa.”
Emma stared.
Dominic’s face didn't move.
Peter added:
“Not as a seller.”
“What then?”
“The sale.”
No one understood.
Peter looked at Dominic.
“Your father promised Vanessa to another family before she was born.”
Dominic’s eyes hardened.
“What does that mean?”
“It means Vanessa wasn't brought into your house because Antonio loved his daughter.”
Peter paused.
“She was collateral.”
Emma felt sick.
Dominic looked toward the abandoned hospital.
“Where is she now?”
Peter answered:
“Trying to stop the people who came to collect.”
His phone rang.
Peter checked the caller.
His face drained.
“What?”
He answered.
“Walsh.”
A woman whispered frantically.
Peter put the call on speaker.
Vanessa.
“Peter, they know.”
“Where are you?”
“Mercer Hotel.”
“Stay there.”
“I can't.”
A crash sounded.
Vanessa gasped.
Dominic took Peter’s phone.
“Vanessa.”
Silence.
Then:
“Dominic?”
“Where are you exactly?”
“Room 804.”
“Lock the door.”
“You don't understand.”
His voice softened.
“Then explain it when I get there.”
Vanessa began crying.
Emma had never heard fear like that from her.
“Dom…”
“What?”
“I didn't kill Rachel.”
“I know.”
“No. Listen.”
A hard knock sounded through the phone.
Then a man's voice.
“Vanessa Moretti.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
Vanessa whispered:
“The woman who died in Rachel’s car wasn't Claire.”
Dominic froze.
Rachel had lied.
The knocking became pounding.
Vanessa said:
May you like
“Claire is the one trying to kill us.”
Then the call went dead.
