Chapter 6 - THE MAN WHO WORE HIS FATHER'S WATCH
“Anthony Bellini met Patricia three weeks ago?”
I looked again at the grainy photograph.
Luca didn't answer immediately.
He was studying the watch.
It had a square gold case and a dark brown leather strap.
His father had given it to Anthony after twenty years of service.
Luca remembered the inscription.
For keeping your word.
It seemed a cruel message now.
Daniel examined the image.
“The face isn't visible. We shouldn't assume it's Anthony based only on the watch.”
Luca nodded.
“Find the original video and preserve it.”
Evelyn folded her arms.
“I remember that visitor. He didn't come inside.”
“Did Patricia seem frightened?” I asked.
“Not at first. They spoke near the garden gate. Then she appeared upset.”
“What happened afterward?”
“She left in a taxi.”
Luca looked surprised.
“Not with the man?”
“No. She refused his ride.”
That changed things.
Perhaps Anthony had tried to help her.
Or perhaps she had discovered something during their conversation that made her afraid of him.
Both possibilities worried me.
Luca stepped away to call Daniel's colleague at the former foundation office.
I stayed with Evelyn.
“Did you know my mother used to be a nurse?” I asked.
She smiled faintly.
“You mentioned it earlier.”
“She always said frightened people sometimes need you to sit quietly before they can tell you what's wrong.”
Evelyn looked toward the doorway.
“Then Patricia must have been very frightened. Because she stopped trusting everyone.”
“Everyone?”
“Almost.”
She opened a drawer and removed a small envelope.
“She left this with Rachel. Asked that it be given to Mrs. Moretti if she didn't return.”
Inside was a paper train ticket.
The destination was Milwaukee.
The date was October nineteenth.
Patricia's supposed resignation date.
On the back, she had written:
If I disappear, don't assume the children did.
My stomach tightened.
I carried it to Luca.
He read the words.
Then looked toward Daniel.
“The locker number from Mom's bell. Which station?”
“Chicago Union Station.”
“We're going there.”
Evelyn touched his arm.
“Mr. Moretti, if Patricia was trying to protect those children, please remember something.”
“What?”
“They weren't numbers on a reimbursement sheet. They were people who grew up believing somebody would come back for them.”
Luca looked at Elliot's photograph.
“I remember.”
We went to Union Station with the locker information.
Police had already been contacted about Patricia's disappearance and the suspicious financial records.
Daniel coordinated with station security, who helped preserve relevant records and establish the locker contents through the proper process.
I stood beside Luca while we waited.
He looked exhausted.
“Have you eaten?” I asked.
“Not since last night.”
“Then you're doing a terrible job looking after yourself.”
He almost smiled.
“My mother would say that.”
“She's right.”
For several seconds, we stood quietly.
Then he said, “I thought Vanessa loved her.”
“Maybe she wanted to.”
“That's not the same thing.”
“No.”
He looked toward the station clock.
“I trusted her with appointments, with staff, with the foundation. I told myself it was what a future wife should want.”
“Maybe she did want to help at first.”
He turned toward me.
“You think so?”
“I don't know her well enough to decide. But people can begin with good intentions and still make terrible choices.”
He looked down.
“And people can overlook those choices because admitting the truth is painful.”
I didn't answer.
He didn't need me to.
When investigators opened the locker, there was no suitcase full of money.
No dramatic confession.
Only a worn canvas bag.
Inside were copied invoices, letters, photographs, and a small digital recorder.
The recorder's label read:
PATIENT INTERVIEW — A.M.
There was also an old blue child's coat, carefully folded.
Elliot's coat.
I recognized the crooked stitching along the sleeve from the photograph.
Luca touched it.
“Mom sewed that herself.”
He showed me a tiny embroidered star near the pocket.
“She put one on every coat. Said the children should have something made just for them.”
A small card was pinned inside.
For Elliot. You will always have a place here. Love, Adelaide.
Luca looked away.
His eyes were wet.
Then he found another object in the bag.
An inexpensive silver bracelet.
Three little charms hung from it.
A house.
A heart.
A star.
The clasp was broken.
I turned it over.
Three initials were engraved on the back.
M.S.
“Mia's?” I asked.
“Probably.”
A note was folded around it.
This was returned to the foundation as unclaimed property. Ask why.
Daniel carefully documented everything.
The copies suggested that funds allocated for the three children had been routed through several organizations over the years.
Some organizations were real.
Others had been dissolved.
A few addresses corresponded to ordinary office buildings rather than care facilities.
But none of that told us where Elliot, Mia, and Benjamin had gone.
Then investigators reviewed the recorder.
It contained Adelaide's voice.
Weak but recognizable.
Patricia asked questions about her medication and about the children's home.
Adelaide struggled to answer.
Finally, she said:
“Letters. Elliot. Bring them back.”
Patricia replied softly.
“I'm trying.”
Then there was a pause.
A man's voice entered the room.
“You shouldn't have made copies.”
Luca straightened.
He recognized the voice.
So did I.
Anthony Bellini.
But the next sentence surprised us.
“You have no idea what my son did,” Anthony said.
Patricia sounded frightened.
“Then help me stop him.”
Anthony sighed.
“I tried years ago.”
The recording ended abruptly.
Luca stared at the device.
His suspicions about Anthony had changed.
Maybe the older man had been hiding evidence.
Or maybe he'd been helping Patricia.
Daniel looked at the recovered paperwork.
“There's an address in Milwaukee connected to one of the closed placement agencies.”
Luca nodded.
“Give it to the investigators.”
I unfolded the train ticket again.
Something was written beneath Patricia's message.
Three words.
ASK FOR MARTHA.
Luca frowned.
“Who's Martha?”
I didn't know.
But the answer came from Evelyn when we called her.
She went silent for several seconds.
Then she said, “Martha Keene was the social worker who originally handled those children's transfers.”
“Where is she now?” Luca asked.
“I thought she'd retired.”
Evelyn hesitated.
“Luca, there's something nobody told you.”
“What?”
“Martha came to the home last month. She said she'd spent years trying to correct what happened to Elliot, Mia, and Benjamin.”
“Correct what?”
Evelyn's voice cracked.
“The records say those children were placed with families.”
“And?”
“Martha says at least one of them never was.”
Luca looked toward the blue coat.
“Which one?”
Evelyn swallowed.
“Elliot.”
I stared at the photograph in my hand.
The smiling thirteen-year-old boy.
The one who wanted to learn about engines.
The one who had written that he didn't want to leave.
Then Evelyn said something that changed everything again.
“Luca, Martha told me Elliot was alive.”
He froze.
“Where?”
“She wouldn't tell me without speaking to your mother first.”
May you like
“Why?”
“Because Elliot has spent seven years believing Adelaide Moretti personally signed the papers that sent him away.”
