Chapter 5 - THE BOY THEY THOUGHT NOBODY WOULD PROTECT
"Dominic photographed my son?"
My voice came out louder than I intended.
A nurse glanced toward us from the station.
Luca examined the photograph again.
"The permit belongs to the estate's security fleet. Dominic uses that vehicle."
Detective Vega took it from him.
"Then we'll verify who was driving."
I barely heard her.
My mind was already racing through everything Marcus had done that morning.
He'd eaten cereal.
He'd complained about a spelling test.
He'd forgotten his lunch money.
And somewhere outside his school, a man had watched him through a car window.
A man who knew exactly where I worked.
Where we lived.
And how little protection I could afford.
I called Mrs. Alvarez, our neighbor.
She answered on the fourth ring.
"Delilah? Honey, is everything okay?"
"Is Marcus there?"
"Of course. He's asleep on the couch. I was starting to worry about you."
My knees weakened.
"Please don't let him leave."
"What's happened?"
"I'll explain when I get there."
She heard something in my voice.
"Nobody's getting near that boy. You know that."
I closed my eyes.
Mrs. Alvarez had lived across the hall for eighteen years.
She'd brought casseroles after Thomas died.
She'd sat with Marcus during my late shifts.
We weren't related by blood.
But she'd been more family to us than people who shared our last name.
Detective Vega arranged for officers to check our apartment building and accompany me home.
Luca approached.
"I'm going with you."
I shook my head.
"Your mother needs you."
"Your son needs protection."
"He has me."
Luca stopped.
Then he nodded.
"You're right."
It was the first time he'd spoken to me without sounding as though he expected obedience.
At three in the morning, I walked into our small apartment.
Marcus sat up on the couch.
"Mom?"
I crossed the room and wrapped my arms around him.
He smelled like shampoo and the peanut-butter cookies Mrs. Alvarez had baked.
"Hey, sweetheart."
"Why are you crying?"
"I'm just glad to see you."
He leaned back.
"Did something bad happen at work?"
I looked at Mrs. Alvarez.
She quietly stepped into the kitchen.
"An older lady got hurt," I told him. "I helped her."
"Is she okay?"
"She's getting better."
He thought about that.
"Then you did good."
Three simple words.
And suddenly I was crying again.
Marcus hugged me.
"Mom, you're squeezing me."
For one heartbreaking second, I heard Thomas's voice in that complaint.
Detective Vega waited while I collected a few things.
She'd asked whether I still had Thomas's personal belongings.
I opened the closet in my bedroom.
On the top shelf sat an old wooden box.
Inside were his wedding ring, an expired driver's license, a few photographs, and the wristwatch he'd worn on his final night.
Its brown leather strap was cracked.
The glass had a thin scratch near the number four.
The watch had stopped at 8:17.
For six years, I'd never had it repaired.
Somehow, keeping it stopped had felt like keeping one small piece of that night unchanged.
I picked it up.
Marcus appeared beside me.
"Dad's watch?"
"Yes."
He looked at the box.
"Can I see his coat?"
I frowned.
"What coat?"
"The brown one."
"Why?"
He shrugged.
"I remember he had it on when we made the stars."
I stared at him.
"What stars?"
Marcus looked confused.
"You know. The little ones inside."
Then I remembered.
A week before Thomas died, Marcus had been practicing drawing five-pointed stars.
Thomas had let him use a washable marker on the inside lining of his old brown coat.
I'd scolded them both.
Thomas had laughed and said a man ought to carry something beautiful where nobody else could see it.
I hadn't thought about that coat in years.
It hung at the back of the closet, behind my winter clothes.
I pulled it free.
The wool smelled faintly of cedar.
Inside the left pocket, three faded blue stars remained.
Marcus touched them.
"Dad said they were his lucky stars."
I pressed my lips together.
"He did."
As I folded the coat, I noticed something strange.
A short section of the inner lining had been stitched by hand.
The thread was darker than the original seam.
Thomas had never been good at sewing.
I knew because I'd spent our marriage repairing buttons he'd tried to fix himself.
I gently opened the loose stitches.
Inside was a folded piece of paper.
My hands began shaking.
Detective Vega examined the paper beneath our kitchen light.
It was a parking receipt.
Six years old.
Issued by Marlowe Private Medical Center.
The same clinic shown in the photograph with Vanessa and Giorgio.
The receipt was dated the night Thomas died.
The printed arrival time was 6:21 p.m.
Two hours before his watch stopped.
On the back, someone had written:
Copies received. N.F.
I looked at Vega.
"What does that mean?"
"We'll need to establish who wrote it."
Luca's voice came through the detective's phone after she called him with the discovery.
"N.F.?"
"Yes," Vega said.
Luca went silent.
Then he answered.
"Nora Finch."
"Who is she?"
"My father's former bookkeeper."
I gripped the kitchen table.
"Where is she now?"
"I don't know. She left the company around the time Thomas died."
"Was she fired?"
"Officially, she resigned."
Detective Vega looked at the receipt.
"Then finding Ms. Finch just became important."
By sunrise, Marcus was staying with Mrs. Alvarez under a safety plan coordinated with the police.
Two officers had checked the building, and Vega arranged additional patrols while investigators worked on the threat.
Marcus didn't understand why everyone suddenly cared so much about the apartment entrance.
I told him the truth he was old enough to hear.
"Some grown-ups are investigating something that happened to Dad. We want to make sure you're safe while they do."
"Was Dad in trouble?"
I knelt beside him.
"No, baby. I think he was trying to do the right thing."
Marcus looked at the watch in my hand.
"Then why did he die?"
I couldn't answer.
Not yet.
Instead, I kissed his forehead.
"That's what we're trying to find out."
When I returned to the hospital, Dominic was waiting near the elevator.
He looked surprised to see Detective Vega beside me.
"Mrs. Moore," he said. "I'm glad your boy's all right."
I stopped.
"How do you know anything happened to my boy?"
Dominic looked toward Luca.
The answer was written across his face.
Luca stepped closer.
"You took that photograph."
Dominic said nothing.
"Did Carlo Bellini send you to Marcus's school?"
"Sir, I can explain."
"Then start."
Dominic rubbed his hands together.
"Mr. Bellini asked me to keep an eye on the boy."
"Why?"
"He said there were people looking into Thomas Moore's death. He wanted to know whether the family was talking to anyone."
I stared at him.
"You watched my child for a man you knew was threatening us?"
Dominic lowered his head.
"I never meant for anyone to get hurt."
"That's what people keep saying," I whispered.
Detective Vega asked him to accompany her for a formal interview.
Before leaving, Dominic looked at Luca.
"There's something else."
Luca's eyes narrowed.
"Say it."
"Mr. Bellini came to the estate last night."
"Last night?"
"Before the party."
"Why?"
Dominic swallowed.
"He told me to let him through the service gate."
"Did he go to the greenhouse?"
"No, sir."
"Then where?"
Dominic looked directly at me.
"Mrs. Moretti's bedroom."
My stomach tightened.
"Why would he go there?"
Dominic's voice dropped.
"He had a small white pharmacy bag. He said he was replacing her medication."
Luca took one step forward.
"YOU LET CARLO BELLINI INTO MY MOTHER'S BEDROOM?"
Dominic nodded.
May you like
Then he said something that made the entire hallway fall silent.
"SIR, HE'S BEEN COMING INTO HER ROOM FOR SIX MONTHS."
