Chapter 3 - THE BRACELET IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
“Luca's mother died when he was eleven.”
I said it aloud because I needed Arthur to hear how impossible his words sounded.
From the basement, the old butler answered quietly.
“That's what Luca believes.”
I looked at Daniel.
He was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, carefully straightening the wrinkled corners of his drawing.
“Arthur, are you telling me she's alive?”
“No. I'm telling you Catherine recognized the bracelet.”
“Then whose bracelet is it?”
A woman's weak voice answered through the phone.
“Isabella Moretti's.”
Catherine Ellis.
I moved closer to the window.
“Miss Ellis, where did Daniel see it?”
“I don't know. But Vittorio kept it in a blue suitcase. He said it was the one thing he couldn't afford to lose.”
Someone spoke urgently in the background.
Catherine's breathing became uneven.
Marco returned to the phone.
“She's exhausted. The paramedics are taking over.”
“Is she all right?”
“She needs a hospital. She's dehydrated and weak, but she's awake.”
I glanced toward Daniel.
“Does Luca know what she said?”
“Not yet. He's upstairs dealing with the officers.”
“Then tell him.”
“I will.”
The call ended.
For several seconds, I stood motionless.
Isabella Moretti.
Luca's mother.
According to the family portraits, she'd been a beautiful woman with dark hair and warm brown eyes.
She had died in a boating accident.
That was the story everyone knew.
Even Daniel knew it.
His grandfather had once shown him her picture and said she was the grandmother who watched over him from heaven.
Now a missing nurse was claiming that a bracelet belonging to Isabella had something to do with Vittorio's death.
And Vanessa had recognized the drawing.
I sat beside Daniel.
“Sweetheart, can you tell me something?”
He nodded.
“Did Grandpa ever show you a red bracelet?”
Daniel thought carefully.
“Not a real one.”
“What do you mean?”
“He showed me a picture.”
“Where?”
“In his big book.”
“The notebook?”
Daniel shook his head.
“The other one. The one with the little boat.”
My heart began beating faster.
“Do you remember where he kept it?”
Daniel pointed toward the hallway.
“In the library.”
The library Vanessa intended to demolish.
Of course.
I stood, then stopped.
Luca had told me to keep Daniel safe.
Taking him into a room connected to a death investigation would hardly qualify.
“Stay here,” I said. “I'll ask someone to help.”
Daniel caught my hand.
“Emma?”
“Yes?”
“Grandpa said the lady was sad.”
“Which lady?”
“The one with the bracelet.”
He looked at his drawing.
“She wanted to come home.”
Before I could answer, Luca entered the room.
His black suit jacket was gone.
The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, revealing the dark tattoos along his forearms.
He looked older than he had an hour earlier.
“Daniel.”
The little boy climbed off the sofa.
“Daddy, did you find Miss Catherine?”
Luca crouched.
“We found her, buddy.”
“Is she okay?”
“Doctors are helping her.”
Daniel nodded.
Then he asked the question Luca had clearly been dreading.
“Did Vanessa put her there?”
Luca hesitated.
“We're going to find out.”
Daniel held out the drawing.
“Grandpa said not to forget her.”
Luca accepted it.
I watched him study the picture.
The moment he saw the bracelet, his face changed.
“Where did you see this?”
Daniel shrugged.
“Grandpa's book.”
Luca looked at me.
“What book?”
I told him.
Then I explained Catherine's words.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, his eyes had gone cold.
“My mother was buried in the family cemetery in 1998.”
“I know.”
“I saw the funeral.”
I said nothing.
Luca looked toward the doorway.
“Arthur.”
The old butler had just entered.
His face was drawn.
“Sir?”
“Tell me everything you know about my mother's bracelet.”
Arthur glanced at Daniel.
“Perhaps somewhere private.”
“No more private conversations that leave my son carrying secrets,” Luca said.
The words were firm, but not cruel.
Arthur nodded.
“Your mother wore that bracelet every day. It was made of red coral beads with a little silver anchor.”
Luca stared at him.
“An anchor?”
“Yes.”
“She wore it when we went sailing.”
“I remember.”
Luca looked down at the drawing.
“Why would my father have it?”
Arthur's expression tightened.
“Because your mother gave it to him the morning before the accident.”
“Why?”
“She was frightened.”
“Of what?”
Arthur hesitated.
Then he reached into his vest pocket and removed an old gold watch.
The crystal was scratched.
The leather strap was nearly worn through.
“This belonged to your father.”
Luca frowned.
“I thought that watch was lost.”
“He asked me to keep it.”
Arthur opened the back.
Inside was a faded photograph of Isabella holding Luca as a little boy.
Behind the photograph lay a narrow strip of paper.
Arthur unfolded it with trembling fingers.
“Your father wrote this after your mother died.”
Luca took the paper.
His face drained of color.
“What does it say?” I asked.
He read aloud.
“Isabella was right about the harbor.”
Silence.
Arthur looked toward the windows.
“Your father spent twenty-eight years trying to learn what happened on that boat.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
“You told me it was an accident.”
“That was the official finding.”
“And you believed it?”
Arthur's eyes glistened.
“I wanted to.”
Luca turned away.
For a moment, I thought he might shout.
Instead, he walked to the window and pressed his hands against the frame.
“My father let me hate her.”
Nobody spoke.
“When I was eleven, I thought she had taken me sailing because she was angry with him. I thought it was my fault she died.”
Arthur lowered his head.
“I'm sorry.”
Luca turned.
“Sorry doesn't give me those years back.”
Daniel approached him.
“Daddy?”
Luca immediately softened.
“Yes?”
“Grandpa said she was nice.”
Luca closed his eyes.
“I know, buddy.”
He lifted Daniel into his arms.
And for the first time since I'd known him, Luca Moretti cried.
Not loudly.
Not dramatically.
Just a few silent tears as he held his son.
I looked away.
The moment felt too private to witness.
But Arthur spoke again.
“Mr. Moretti, there's more.”
Luca lowered Daniel carefully.
“What?”
“Your father told me to give you the watch if anything happened to him before he could finish his investigation.”
“Then why didn't you?”
Arthur's voice broke.
“Vanessa told me you already knew.”
Luca stared.
“She said you'd instructed her to protect Daniel from the old stories.”
“That was a lie.”
“Yes, sir.”
Luca looked at the watch again.
Then he noticed something.
The photograph inside the case had two corners.
One had been folded over.
He lifted it.
Beneath the picture was a tiny handwritten number.
17\.
Arthur frowned.
“Your mother used that number for her private storage box at the harbor.”
Luca looked up.
“The harbor?”
Arthur nodded.
“The same marina where she disappeared.”
Suddenly, Daniel reached toward the watch.
“Daddy, Grandpa showed me that.”
Luca turned.
“When?”
“Before he got sick.”
“What did he say?”
Daniel touched the number.
“He said seventeen was where the boat slept.”
Luca went completely still.
Then Daniel added:
“And Grandpa said the boat wasn't empty when Grandma fell.”
Arthur gripped the chair.
Luca whispered, “What?”
Daniel looked at him innocently.
“There was another person.”
May you like
The little boy pointed at the photograph.
“GRANDPA SAID THE PERSON ON THE BOAT IS STILL COMING TO OUR HOUSE.”
