Chapter 5 - ANTHONY’S REAL REASON FOR RETURNING
Nicholas said nothing until we were outside Camille’s room.
Then he punched the wall.
Not hard enough to break his hand.
Hard enough to shock me.
“I’m tired of people speaking in riddles.”
Detective Malloy looked over.
Nicholas ignored him.
“Everyone knows pieces. Nobody tells the whole truth.”
I understood.
In less than twelve hours, he had learned his father was alive, his fiancée had been planted in his life, his mother may have tried to murder Anthony, and the cemetery kidnapping might have been staged.
I had learned my father was alive and that I might be a DeLuca.
Neither of us had slept.
Neither of us knew whom to trust.
Nicholas looked at me.
“Did you know Gabriel DeLuca?”
“No.”
“Did Thomas ever mention him?”
“Never.”
Malloy approached.
“We have units headed toward Pier 38.”
Nicholas nodded.
“I’m going.”
“I’d advise against that.”
“I didn’t ask.”
I stepped beside him.
“I’m going too.”
“No.”
“We already did this.”
“And I already hated it the first time.”
“If Anthony came back for me, I need to know why.”
Nicholas stared at me.
Then nodded.
“Stay beside me.”
Pier 38 had been abandoned for years.
Old warehouses lined the Delaware River, their windows black against the morning sky.
Police found Camille’s crashed car first.
Blood on the passenger seat.
Victor’s fingerprints.
Anthony’s blood.
But no bodies.
Fifty yards away, an old security camera had captured a black SUV.
Michael obtained the footage.
Three men exited.
One was Thomas Hayes.
My father.
I watched him walk across the screen.
Alive.
It should have been impossible.
Instead it was undeniable.
Nicholas stood beside me.
“You want a minute?”
“No.”
I did.
But I was afraid if I let myself feel anything, I would collapse.
Michael zoomed in on the second man.
Nobody recognized him.
Then the third.
Nicholas did.
“Raymond Pike.”
The missing DeLuca security chief.
The same guard Margaret had recognized.
Nicholas stared at the image.
“Pike worked for my father before he worked for me.”
Michael frowned.
“So Anthony may control him.”
“Or someone controls all of them.”
We searched the warehouse.
Inside, we found ropes.
A chair.
Medical supplies.
And a portable cassette player.
Nicholas pressed play.
Anthony’s voice filled the empty building.
“Nick, if you found this, you ignored my instructions.”
Nicholas looked furious.
Anthony continued.
“That means you’re still exactly like me.”
A pause.
“You believe force gets you answers faster than patience.”
Nicholas muttered, “Apparently abandoning your child for twenty-one years makes you philosophical.”
The tape continued.
“I need you to understand why Rachel matters.”
I stopped breathing.
“Gabriel was my younger brother. He was brilliant, reckless, and incapable of leaving trouble alone. In 1988, he discovered Victor Warren was helping powerful men move money through our shipping company.”
Nicholas looked at me.
Anthony continued.
“Gabriel wanted to expose them. I wanted to contain it quietly. We fought.”
The warehouse seemed to disappear around me.
“Then Gabriel fell in love with Laura Shaw.”
Margaret’s daughter.
My mother.
Biological mother.
“They had a child.”
Me.
“Rachel.”
I put my hand over my mouth.
Nicholas listened silently.
“Gabriel intended to leave Philadelphia with Laura and the baby. He said the DeLuca name would destroy his daughter if he stayed.”
Anthony’s voice became rough.
“He was right.”
A long pause.
“Gabriel was killed before he could leave.”
My knees weakened.
Nicholas grabbed my elbow.
“Who killed him?” I whispered, though Anthony couldn’t hear me.
The tape answered anyway.
“I believed Victor did it.”
Again Victor.
Again believed.
“But years later, I learned Gabriel had hidden evidence of something bigger. Evidence no one has ever found.”
Nicholas turned toward me.
Anthony said, “The evidence is tied to Rachel.”
My stomach dropped.
“How?” Nicholas demanded.
The tape continued.
“Laura panicked after Gabriel’s death. She gave Rachel to Susan and Thomas Hayes. Thomas was one of my men. I ordered him to protect them.”
Camille had told the truth.
“At least, that is what I thought he was doing.”
Nicholas frowned.
“Thought?”
“Thomas disappeared four years ago because he discovered the same thing I did.”
The recording paused.
Then Anthony said:
“Someone inside the DeLuca organization has been protecting the people responsible for Gabriel’s death for thirty-seven years.”
Nicholas looked at Michael.
Michael looked back.
Anthony’s voice dropped.
“And that person is not Victor Warren.”
I felt cold.
“Victor stole from us. He lied. He helped Evelyn cover things up. But Gabriel’s murder frightened him too.”
The tape clicked.
“Victor and I staged the cemetery escape because we needed whoever is really responsible to believe we still blamed him.”
Nicholas slowly lowered his head.
Camille had been telling the truth.
“So Victor’s helping Anthony,” I said.
“Apparently.”
Nicholas looked furious enough to tear the building apart.
Anthony continued.
“If Victor is alive when you hear this, trust him once. Only once.”
A pause.
“Ask him what happened on October 14, 1989.”
Michael typed the date into his phone.
Nicholas said, “That’s three months after the photograph.”
Anthony continued.
“Rachel, if you’re listening, I owe you an apology.”
I stared at the cassette player.
“You were placed in Nicholas’s house without your knowledge because Thomas believed the safest place for you was beside the one person our enemy could not kill without destroying everything they built.”
Nicholas’s expression changed.
“Me.”
“Yes,” Anthony’s recording said as if answering him.
“Nick.”
Another pause.
“Rachel was never sent to spy on you.”
I swallowed.
“She was sent so you would protect each other.”
Something in my chest shifted.
Nicholas did not look at me.
Anthony continued.
“Under no circumstances should you trust the red ledger alone. Someone altered it.”
Nicholas looked sharply at Michael.
“The original?”
Anthony’s voice continued.
“The genuine pages are marked with tiny pinholes in the upper-right corner.”
We had not checked.
“There are six false pages inserted into the ledger. Those pages were designed to make you believe Camille controlled everything.”
Nicholas exhaled.
Camille was guilty.
But perhaps not of everything.
“Remove those pages. Read the initials running down the margins.”
The tape stopped.
Nicholas called the estate.
Margaret checked the ledger while we waited.
Six pages had no pinholes.
She removed them.
Hidden along the inner edges of the remaining pages were letters.
Michael had her read them aloud.
R.
A.
Y.
M.
O.
N.
D.
Nicholas stared at the warehouse footage.
Raymond Pike.
His security chief.
The man now standing beside Thomas in the recording.
“That makes no sense,” I said. “If Raymond is the enemy, why is he with Thomas?”
Nicholas answered quietly.
“Maybe Thomas isn’t who Anthony thinks he is.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
Nicholas looked at it.
“Speaker.”
I answered.
“Rachel?”
My father’s voice.
For years, I had dreamed about hearing it again.
Now hearing it made me feel sick.
“Dad?”
A long silence.
Then:
“I’m sorry.”
I started crying before I could stop myself.
“You’re alive.”
“Yes.”
“You let Mom bury you.”
“I had no choice.”
“You always had a choice.”
“I know.”
“Where are you?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Is Anthony with you?”
“Yes.”
Nicholas stepped closer.
“Thomas.”
My father went silent.
Nicholas said, “Put my father on.”
“I can’t.”
“Then tell me why Raymond Pike is with you.”
Another silence.
Thomas’s breathing changed.
“Raymond isn’t with us.”
Nicholas looked at Michael.
“We have video.”
“Then the video is old.”
“The timestamp is this morning.”
Thomas cursed.
“What?”
My father suddenly sounded afraid.
Nicholas’s voice sharpened.
“Where are you?”
Thomas ignored him.
“Rachel, listen to me.”
“Where are you?”
“Raymond cannot find Anthony.”
“He already did.”
“No.”
My father’s voice rose.
“You don’t understand. Raymond isn’t working for the people who killed Gabriel.”
“Then who is he working for?”
Thomas whispered:
“Gabriel.”
I stopped.
Nicholas stared at the phone.
“That’s impossible.”
My father answered:
“No, Nicholas.”
A sound came through the line.
A door opening.
Then a man spoke in the background.
Calm.
Deep.
Unfamiliar.
“You really should stop telling my daughter I’m dead.”
My hand went numb.
Thomas whispered:
May you like
“Rachel, run.”
The call ended.
