Chapter 3 - THE NIGHT GRACE REMEMBERED
Grace’s memory returned in pieces.
Not enough to form a complete picture.
Enough to make everyone in that hidden room dangerous.
I took her upstairs.
Anthony protested.
Catherine protested harder.
I ignored both.
Grace sat in my study with a blanket around her shoulders while the family doctor checked her fever. Mia sat beside her, clutching one of Grace’s hands while Lily slept in Vincent’s arms as if dead brothers and hidden rooms were ordinary parts of infancy.
I stood by the fireplace.
“Tell me what you remember.”
Grace stared into nothing.
“I was twelve.”
“I know.”
“My father came home late.”
Her thumb moved over Mia’s knuckles.
“He was scared. I had never seen him scared.”
“What did he say?”
“He told me we might have to leave Boston.”
Mia leaned against her.
“He packed one suitcase for me.”
Grace closed her eyes.
“Then someone knocked.”
Three times.
I felt it immediately.
“So that’s where the knocking comes from.”
She looked up.
“What?”
“Nothing. Continue.”
“My father told me to go upstairs and lock my bedroom door.”
She swallowed.
“I didn’t.”
Of course she didn’t.
Children rarely remembered the command.
They remembered the fear behind it.
“I sat on the stairs.”
Her breathing changed.
“I heard men arguing.”
“How many?”
“Three, maybe four.”
“Anthony?”
“Yes.”
“What was he saying?”
“I don’t know. I remember Dad saying, ‘You promised Vittorio.’”
Vittorio.
My father.
I looked toward the doorway.
Vincent had heard it too.
“Then glass broke.”
Grace pressed trembling fingers to her forehead.
“I ran down.”
“Grace.”
“I saw Anthony.”
Her voice dropped.
“He was twenty-five, maybe.”
Twenty-six, I calculated.
“And my father?”
“I didn’t see him. Anthony grabbed me before I reached the basement.”
“What blood was on him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you see him hurt anyone?”
“No.”
Important.
“What happened next?”
“He put me in a car.”
Her expression twisted.
“There was another man driving.”
“Who?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Where did they take you?”
“A motel.”
Anthony had carried a child away from a crime scene.
That alone did not tell me whether he had saved Grace or kidnapped her.
“What happened at the motel?”
“I woke up the next morning.”
She looked at me.
“And Catherine was there.”
I turned.
Catherine stood at the study entrance.
She had come silently.
“You,” Grace whispered.
Catherine nodded once.
“You gave me hot chocolate.”
“Yes.”
“You told me my father had left.”
Catherine started crying.
“I was twenty-three, Grace.”
“You lied.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Anthony told me to.”
I crossed the room.
“Enough fragments. Catherine, sit down.”
She did.
“Tell us the rest.”
Catherine looked toward Mia.
“Not in front of her.”
Mia straightened.
“I already know there’s a man in the wall.”
Despite everything, Grace almost smiled.
I didn’t.
“Vincent.”
He led Mia and Lily toward the kitchen.
Mia pointed at me as she went.
“Don’t yell at Mama.”
“I’m not going to yell at your mother.”
“You yell quietly.”
Vincent coughed to hide a laugh.
When the door closed, Catherine finally spoke.
“Samuel Harper discovered something your father wanted exposed and three other men wanted buried.”
“Who?”
“Your father called them the Council.”
I knew the term.
Old Boston alliances.
Italian.
Irish.
Political.
Businessmen who smiled in charity photographs while directing crimes through people whose names never reached them.
“My father was part of it.”
“Yes.”
“But he wanted out?”
“Eventually.”
“Why?”
Catherine looked at Grace.
“Because Samuel showed him where the money was coming from.”
Grace frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“It wasn’t just laundering.”
Catherine’s voice became thin.
“They were stealing from pension funds. Housing programs. Relief charities.”
I had known my father had blood on his hands.
I had never believed he stole from families who had nothing.
“He found out too late?”
“He found out after years of signing paperwork he never read closely enough.”
That sounded like an excuse.
Maybe it was.
“Samuel copied everything.”
“And the Council came for him.”
“Yes.”
“Was Anthony with them?”
“No.”
Grace looked at Catherine sharply.
“He was trying to get Samuel out.”
Anthony’s voice came from the hall.
We turned.
He stood there supported by the doorframe.
“You’re supposed to be downstairs,” I said.
“I’m tired of downstairs.”
He looked at Grace.
“Your father called me because Dad couldn’t come without being watched.”
Grace’s expression stayed cold.
“You had blood on your shirt.”
“Samuel’s.”
Her face drained.
“You touched him?”
“I tried to stop the bleeding.”
The room went silent.
“Who shot him?” I asked.
Anthony’s mouth hardened.
“Gideon Vale.”
Catherine stopped breathing.
The name meant nothing to me for half a second.
Then it did.
“Your father.”
Catherine nodded.
Grace stood.
“No.”
Anthony’s gaze never left her.
“Catherine’s father led the men who came for Samuel.”
Catherine whispered, “I didn’t know until afterward.”
I looked from Anthony to her.
“You married the daughter of the man who murdered Samuel Harper?”
“I was already with her.”
Anthony’s expression carried twenty-five years of exhaustion.
“Catherine chose us over him.”
She looked away.
“Gideon believed Samuel had hidden the copy.”
“Where?”
“We never found out.”
Anthony glanced toward the kitchen.
“But Samuel left clues for Grace.”
“And the agreement in Dad’s letter?”
Anthony nodded.
“After Samuel died, Dad threatened Gideon. If anyone touched Grace, he would release what evidence he had.”
“Why not release it immediately?”
“Because Dad had enough to destroy Gideon.”
His eyes met mine.
“But not enough to protect you.”
I laughed without humor.
“So Father kept criminals alive to protect his sons from criminals.”
“Yes.”
“That sounds like him.”
Grace wrapped the blanket tighter.
“What does Mia have to do with any of this?”
Nobody answered.
Grace noticed.
“What does my daughter have to do with it?”
Anthony sat slowly.
“Samuel’s clue system was built around childhood memory. A song. A counting game. Three knocks.”
Grace frowned.
“My father used to knock three times on my bedroom door.”
“Yes.”
“He told me three meant safe.”
Anthony nodded.
“Mia copied you.”
Grace looked toward the kitchen.
“I knock three times on her door every night.”
“The agreement said if the Harper child heard the knocking, it meant someone had started searching the passage again.”
“Someone like Catherine?”
I looked at my sister-in-law.
She shook her head violently.
“I fed Anthony.”
“Why hide him?”
“Because five years ago, Gideon found him.”
Anthony lifted his pant leg enough to reveal another scar.
“He had me taken after the crash.”
“You were alive when your car went into the ravine?”
“I wasn’t in the car.”
The implications hit immediately.
“Whose body did we bury?”
Anthony looked at Catherine.
She answered.
“A man Gideon killed.”
My stomach turned.
“He falsified the dental records?”
“He owned the laboratory through another company.”
“And where were you?”
Anthony’s jaw clenched.
“Locked in a warehouse for eleven months.”
Grace covered her mouth.
“I escaped. Catherine helped me.”
“And instead of coming home, you lived in my walls?”
“Because Gideon believed I was dead after I escaped.”
“Apparently not very convincingly.”
Anthony looked at me.
“He still believes I’m dead.”
“Then why hide now?”
“Because he has someone inside your house.”
The study seemed to shrink.
I looked toward Vincent.
He immediately reached for his phone.
“Who?”
“We don’t know.”
“That’s convenient.”
“Roman, think.”
Anthony leaned forward.
“Someone altered security footage. Someone allowed Catherine access without logging half her movements. Someone knew when Grace worked late.”
My anger shifted.
The child cleaning.
The midnight passages.
The unexplained doors.
This was no longer an old secret.
Someone had been managing it in real time.
Vincent returned thirty seconds later.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“The exterior cameras went down six minutes ago.”
My hand moved beneath my jacket.
“Backup system?”
“Down.”
Anthony stood despite his leg.
“Gideon.”
Catherine turned toward the windows.
“No. He doesn’t know Anthony’s here.”
A sound came from downstairs.
Glass breaking.
Then the house went black.
Mia screamed from the kitchen.
Grace ran.
I caught her arm.
“Stay behind me.”
A gunshot thundered from the first floor.
Vincent drew his weapon.
Another shot.
Then silence.
“Mia!” Grace screamed.
We reached the hallway.
Emergency lighting flickered on.
A security guard lay near the stairs, blood spreading across his sleeve.
Alive.
Barely.
Vincent crouched beside him.
“Who?”
The man struggled to breathe.
“Service entrance.”
“Who came in?”
He grabbed Vincent’s jacket.
“Not came in.”
His eyes found mine.
“Was already inside.”
My blood turned cold.
Then we heard Mia crying.
Not from the kitchen.
From inside my study.
Three soft knocks came from behind the bookcase.
Knock.
Knock.
Knock.
Grace whispered, “That’s our safe knock.”
I pulled the hidden door open.
Mia stood halfway down the stairs holding Lily.
Alone.
“Mia.”
She rushed toward Grace.
Grace caught both children.
“Who put you in there?”
Mia pointed toward the darkness.
“The nice security man.”
Vincent froze.
“Which security man?”
Mia wiped her face.
“The one who knows Grandpa.”
Grace went pale.
“My father?”
Mia shook her head.
“Mr. Duca’s grandpa.”
I had never met either of my grandfathers.
Both died before I was born.
“Mia, what was his name?”
She opened her mouth.
A phone began ringing somewhere in the study.
Not mine.
Not Grace’s.
Not Vincent’s.
We followed the sound.
It came from behind my father’s old desk.
Vincent reached underneath and removed a black cell phone taped to the wood.
The screen showed one incoming call.
UNKNOWN.
I answered.
“Who is this?”
An old man laughed softly.
Then he said a name nobody in my family had spoken in nearly twenty years.
“Roman Duca. Vittorio’s stubborn little boy.”
I looked at Anthony.
He had gone white.
The caller continued.
“Tell my daughter Catherine I’m disappointed in her.”
Catherine collapsed into the nearest chair.
Gideon Vale was not hiding anymore.
May you like
And before I could answer, he added:
“If you want Grace Harper’s mother to remain alive, bring me the ledger before sunrise.”
