Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO WATCHED MY HUSBAND DIE
"Vanessa was there?"
I heard myself asking the question, but my voice sounded far away.
Detective Vega turned the accident report toward Luca.
"The witness gave her statement at 9:42 p.m. She identified herself as Vanessa Bellini."
Luca looked toward the waiting room.
"Get her."
Vega raised one hand.
"I'll speak to her, Mr. Moretti. You can stay here."
But Vanessa had already appeared in the doorway.
She'd heard enough.
Her eyes moved from the report to my face.
And I knew.
Before she said a single word, I knew she'd been hiding something about Thomas.
"Why were you there?" I asked.
Vanessa looked at Luca.
"Please don't let her do this."
"Answer her," Luca said.
Vanessa wrapped her coat tighter around herself.
"My father sent me."
"To do what?"
She looked down.
"Find something."
My chest tightened.
"What?"
"An envelope Thomas was carrying."
The hallway seemed to tilt.
I remembered my husband checking his coat pockets before leaving home that November evening.
He'd kissed Marcus on the forehead.
Then he'd told me he'd be back before bedtime.
"What envelope?"
Vanessa shook her head.
"I never saw what was inside."
Detective Vega moved closer.
"Miss Bellini, you need to understand that we're investigating a potentially staged fatal accident. I strongly recommend that you have an attorney present before continuing."
Vanessa looked at Luca.
He didn't move.
She lowered herself into a chair.
"Then I'll tell you what I can."
Vanessa said her father had called her that evening because one of his employees had been in an accident.
He wanted her to locate a brown envelope before the police inventoried the vehicle.
"Why you?" Vega asked.
"Because I was nearby, and he trusted me."
"Trusted you to remove evidence?"
Vanessa's silence answered that question.
I stepped closer.
"Was Thomas alive when you arrived?"
She pressed her hands together.
"Delilah—"
"Was my husband alive?"
"Yes."
The word struck harder than any scream.
I gripped the back of a chair.
For six years, I'd pictured Thomas dying instantly.
That was what the accident report said.
That was what the funeral director had gently encouraged me to believe.
Vanessa wiped her cheek.
"He was trapped. The front of the car had hit the barrier."
"Was he conscious?"
"Yes."
I could barely breathe.
"Did he ask for help?"
Vanessa began crying.
"He asked me to call his wife."
I turned away.
I couldn't look at her.
Thomas had been thinking about me.
About Marcus.
And this woman had stood beside his wrecked car searching for an envelope.
"Did you call me?" I whispered.
"No."
"Did you call an ambulance?"
"I thought someone already had."
"Did you help him?"
Vanessa's voice cracked.
"I was scared."
I looked back at her.
"So you left."
She didn't deny it.
For a moment, I wanted to hurt her.
I wanted her to feel one second of the grief I'd carried for six years.
Instead, I remembered Marcus asking why other children had fathers at their school concerts.
And I started crying.
Luca moved toward me.
I held up my hand.
"Don't."
He stopped.
That small act of respect nearly broke me again.
Detective Vega took Vanessa into another room to finish her statement.
Luca sat beside me.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
Then he said, "My father met Thomas two days before the accident."
I turned.
"How do you know?"
"Because I saw him leaving Dad's office."
"Did they argue?"
"I assumed they did. Thomas looked upset."
"Did your father say anything afterward?"
Luca considered.
"He said I'd misjudged the situation."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"He told me Thomas might not have been stealing information after all."
My grief turned into anger.
"And you didn't think that mattered?"
"I told Dad I'd already dismissed him."
"That was your answer?"
Luca lowered his head.
"He said he'd handle it."
I looked toward Eleanor's hospital room.
"Giorgio was beginning to believe my husband."
Luca nodded.
"And somebody made sure they never finished that conversation."
It was the first time he had spoken about Thomas's death without hiding behind the word accident.
Shortly after two in the morning, Eleanor awakened.
Her breathing was easier, though the doctor still wanted her monitored.
Luca stood beside her bed.
"Mom, did Dad know Thomas was investigating Carlo?"
Eleanor looked at me.
Then she nodded.
"Your father believed Carlo at first. Thomas found transfers that looked like theft. Carlo said Thomas had stolen company records to hide his own wrongdoing."
"Then what changed?" Luca asked.
"Thomas brought your father a copy of a bank statement. The money had gone into a property company controlled by Carlo."
Luca rubbed his forehead.
"Why didn't Dad tell me?"
"He was ashamed he'd accused an honest man."
I swallowed.
"Did he try to help Thomas?"
"He was going to meet him."
"When?"
Eleanor's eyes filled with tears.
"The night Thomas died."
I looked at Luca.
He looked as stunned as I felt.
Eleanor continued.
"Your father waited in his study until midnight. He kept asking why Thomas hadn't arrived."
She began trembling.
"The next morning, Carlo came over. He said Thomas had died in an accident."
Luca pulled a chair beside her bed.
"And Dad believed him?"
"At first."
"Then?"
Eleanor looked toward the door.
"Then your father started keeping the black ledger."
The room grew quiet.
"He was collecting evidence?"
"Yes."
"Why hide it in the greenhouse?"
"After Giorgio died, Carlo's men searched his study. I found the ledger before they did."
"Why not give it to me?"
Eleanor started crying.
"Because Carlo told me you'd be next."
For the first time, Luca seemed to understand why his mother had lived in fear.
She wasn't protecting a secret because she enjoyed hiding it.
She was trying to keep her only son alive.
When Vanessa returned from her interview, her attorney was on the way.
She looked exhausted.
Detective Vega allowed me to ask one question before ending our conversation.
"Did Thomas say anything else?"
Vanessa stared at me.
"Only that there were two copies."
"Of what?"
"I don't know."
"Did you tell your father?"
"Yes."
"And what did he say?"
Vanessa hesitated.
"He said Thomas was lying."
I stepped back.
Two copies.
One might have been the black ledger.
But where was the other?
Vanessa suddenly reached into her handbag.
Detective Vega watched carefully as she removed a folded photograph.
"I wasn't going to show you this."
She handed it to the detective, who examined it before passing it to me.
The photograph showed a boy wearing a navy-blue school jacket.
A green backpack hung from one shoulder.
His brown hair curled over his forehead.
He stood beside the school entrance.
My breath caught.
Marcus.
My eleven-year-old son.
The photograph had been taken that very morning.
"Where did you get this?"
Vanessa looked ashamed.
"My father sent it to me before the engagement party."
"Why?"
"To remind me what happens when people talk."
I felt sick.
Luca stepped forward.
"Did Carlo threaten the boy?"
Vanessa nodded.
"He said your mother wasn't the only person who needed to learn when to keep quiet."
Detective Vega immediately requested an officer to check on Marcus.
I grabbed my phone to call our neighbor, who was watching him.
Then Luca noticed something on the photograph.
He took it carefully by the edges.
"Detective."
"What is it?"
"Look at the bottom corner."
A faint reflection showed the edge of a vehicle's dashboard.
There was a blue parking permit hanging beneath the mirror.
A permit I'd seen hundreds of times at the mansion.
Luca's face hardened.
"That's not Carlo's car."
May you like
He looked toward the hallway where Dominic had been standing.
"THAT'S DOMINIC'S SECURITY VEHICLE."
