Chapter 6 - The Name Missing From Mia’s Birth Certificate
Grace looked at me as if I had aimed a weapon at her.
Mia stood between us.
That was the only reason I controlled my voice.
“Vincent.”
He understood.
He took Mia toward the adjacent room.
“I want Mama.”
“She’ll be right here.”
“No secrets.”
Every adult in the room flinched.
Mia frowned at us.
“Grown-ups always say no secrets and then make more secrets.”
She wasn’t wrong.
When she was gone, I looked at Grace again.
“Who is her father?”
Grace folded her arms.
“That has nothing to do with Gideon.”
“Apparently he disagrees.”
“He is trying to make us turn on each other.”
“Then make it easy for me not to.”
Anthony stood.
“Roman.”
“Sit down.”
“This isn’t your question to ask.”
I faced him.
That was when I knew.
The way Anthony refused to meet Grace’s eyes.
The way Catherine went completely still.
The way Grace’s anger turned into fear.
“No.”
Grace whispered, “Roman.”
I stared at Anthony.
“No.”
Anthony closed his eyes.
I laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“You have got to be kidding me.”
Catherine moved toward him.
I pointed.
“Don’t.”
Grace said, “It isn’t what you think.”
“That sentence has never once been followed by good news.”
Anthony lowered himself into a chair.
“Mia is not my daughter.”
I stopped.
“What?”
Grace exhaled shakily.
I looked between them.
“Then why does everyone look guilty?”
“Because Anthony helped me disappear from Mia’s father.”
My attention sharpened.
“Who?”
Grace looked toward the room where Mia had gone.
“A man named Daniel Cross.”
I knew the name.
Everyone in Boston’s private security world knew the name.
Former Army intelligence.
Private contractor.
Worked internationally.
Disappeared seven years ago after being accused of leaking classified procurement records.
“He’s dead.”
Grace laughed bitterly.
“So was Anthony.”
Fair point.
“How did you know him?”
“He came to the townhouse.”
“When?”
“Before Mia was born. He was investigating my father’s disappearance.”
I looked at Anthony.
“You connected them?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Daniel had access to federal archives.”
Anthony rubbed his injured leg.
“He believed Samuel’s case connected to government contracts.”
“Did it?”
“Yes.”
Grace continued.
“Daniel and I worked together for almost a year.”
Her voice softened.
“We became close.”
“You became pregnant.”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
“Voluntarily?”
“I thought he had been arrested.”
Anthony said, “He discovered Gideon had people inside the federal investigation.”
“And?”
“He ran.”
Grace turned on him.
“That’s what you told me.”
Anthony hesitated.
The room changed.
Grace saw it.
“What?”
Anthony rubbed his face.
“Daniel didn’t run.”
Her voice became dangerously quiet.
“What did you do?”
“I moved him.”
“Where?”
“Europe.”
Grace stared.
“You told me he abandoned me.”
“I told you he disappeared.”
“You let me believe it.”
Anthony looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Gideon had identified him.”
Grace slapped him.
The sound cracked through the room.
Catherine looked away.
Anthony accepted it.
“You decided for me?”
“I kept him alive.”
“You stole six years from my daughter!”
“I kept her alive too.”
Grace raised her hand again.
This time I caught her wrist.
“Not because he doesn’t deserve it.”
She pulled away.
“But we need him conscious.”
She turned from Anthony.
Tears streamed silently down her face.
“Does Daniel know about Mia?”
Anthony’s answer took too long.
“Yes.”
Grace made a broken sound.
“He knows?”
“He knew you were pregnant.”
“Does he know she lived?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t he come back?”
Anthony looked at Catherine.
Catherine whispered, “Because we sent him proof that returning would get Mia killed.”
Grace stared at her.
“You?”
“I helped.”
“You watched me raise her alone.”
Catherine began crying.
“I thought we were protecting you.”
Grace laughed bitterly.
“Everyone keeps protecting me by lying.”
I understood that anger better than she knew.
Grace grabbed her coat.
“Where are you going?”
“To my daughters.”
“We need to move.”
She looked at me.
“I’m aware.”
Voss interrupted.
“Terminal first.”
“No,” I said.
He frowned.
“Margaret is there.”
“Was there forty minutes ago.”
Grace turned.
“What are you saying?”
“Gideon wants us moving emotionally.”
I looked at the photograph again.
“Look at the shadows.”
Voss studied it.
“What?”
“The lights in that parking level.”
Vincent returned.
“Motion timers.”
“Exactly.”
I enlarged the image.
Every light behind Margaret was dark except three.
“If they were moving her, those lights would be on.”
Voss stared.
“The picture was staged.”
“Earlier.”
Grace’s face fell.
“You said you saw her.”
“I saw the photograph on Gideon’s internal channel.”
“So you lied.”
Voss did not deny it.
I raised my gun.
Vincent stepped between us.
“Boss.”
“Move.”
“He may still be useful.”
“Your father has had thirty years to practice being useful.”
Voss said, “I was trying to get you moving before Gideon realized I had switched sides.”
“Toward an ambush?”
“A location where I knew his men would be.”
“Wonderful distinction.”
Grace stepped forward.
“Enough.”
Everyone stopped.
She looked at Voss.
“Where is my mother?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then what do you know?”
Voss reached into his coat again.
This time he produced a small key.
“Gideon keeps an emergency archive beneath St. Bartholomew’s.”
Anthony frowned.
“The old church?”
“Yes.”
“What archive?”
“Names. Properties. Safe houses.”
“Hostages?”
“Sometimes.”
Grace held out her hand.
Voss gave her the key.
She looked at me.
“We go.”
I nodded.
Before leaving, I made one change.
Mia and Lily would not remain in my townhouse.
Too compromised.
Vincent arranged a convoy to move them to my hotel under twenty-man security.
Grace hugged Mia.
“I need you to go with Mr. Vincent.”
“You’re coming?”
“Soon.”
“Promise?”
Grace could not say it.
So I did.
“We’re all coming.”
Mia looked at me.
“You already promised Grandma.”
“I remember.”
She hugged Grace.
Then something slipped from her sweatshirt pocket.
A folded piece of paper.
Grace picked it up.
“What’s this?”
Mia shrugged.
“The knocking man gave it to me.”
Anthony frowned.
“I never gave you that.”
Mia shook her head.
“Not you.”
The room froze.
“What?”
Mia looked confused.
“The other knocking man.”
Voss went pale.
I took the paper.
Inside was a child’s drawing.
A house.
Three windows.
A blue door.
Seven trees.
Nine birds.
Four clouds.
3-7-9-4.
Below it, written in adult handwriting:
ASK GRACE ABOUT THE LULLABY’S LAST VERSE.
Grace stared.
“My father’s song.”
“Sing it.”
She shook her head.
“I don’t remember.”
Mia did.
Quietly, she began.
“Three lights home, seven bells call,
Nine boats wait where shadows fall,
Four steps down beneath the stone…”
She stopped.
Grace whispered, “There was another line.”
Mia smiled.
“I know.”
She sang:
“Where the lion guards the bone.”
Anthony stood.
“The lion.”
I knew immediately.
Our father’s grave.
Vittorio Duca’s family mausoleum had two stone lions at the entrance.
Grace looked at me.
“Samuel hid the ledger with your father.”
“Or beneath him.”
We changed direction.
The cemetery was forty minutes away.
We reached it in twenty-six.
Rain had started.
The Duca mausoleum stood at the top of a hill.
One stone lion on either side.
Vincent’s men swept the grounds.
Clear.
I unlocked the iron gate.
Inside, marble plaques carried generations of Duca names.
My father.
My mother.
And Anthony.
Anthony stared at his own memorial.
“That’s unpleasant.”
“Imagine attending your funeral.”
“I’ve imagined it.”
Grace counted.
Three lights.
Seven bells.
Nine boats.
Four steps.
She stopped at my father’s crypt.
“Four steps down.”
There were no steps.
I looked at the stone lion carved beneath Vittorio’s name.
“The lion guards the bone.”
I pressed it.
Nothing.
Anthony tried the second eye.
Click.
A marble section opened.
Inside lay a metal case.
Grace stopped breathing.
I removed it.
Samuel Harper’s initials were carved on top.
S.H.
Twenty-eight years.
Found.
We opened it.
No ledger.
Only a cassette tape.
And a photograph.
Grace picked it up.
Her father.
Samuel.
Beside him stood Vittorio Duca.
And a third man.
Younger.
Blond.
Gideon Vale.
On the back, Samuel had written:
THE THREE MEN WHO BUILT IT.
Grace frowned.
“Built what?”
Anthony inserted the cassette into an old recorder from the case.
Static.
Then Samuel Harper’s voice filled the tomb.
“Grace, if you are hearing this, Gideon found us.”
Grace covered her mouth.
The tape continued.
“The ledger is not paper. It never was.”
I looked at Anthony.
Samuel’s voice became clearer.
“The ledger is a person.”
Static cracked.
Then:
“She knows every account, every name, every crime.”
Grace whispered, “Who?”
Samuel answered as if he had heard her.
“Margaret.”
Grace’s knees nearly gave out.
Her mother.
The ledger wasn’t hidden with Margaret Harper.
Margaret Harper was the ledger.
Then footsteps sounded outside the mausoleum.
Vincent raised his weapon.
A man appeared between the stone lions.
Tall.
Gray-haired.
Unarmed.
Grace stared at him.
Anthony whispered, “Impossible.”
The stranger looked directly at Grace.
His eyes filled with tears.
“Grace.”
She stared.
“Who are you?”
He looked toward the cassette recorder.
Then said:
“Daniel Cross.”
May you like
Grace stopped breathing.
The father of her daughter had just come home.
