Chapter 5 - THE KEY THAT EVERYONE WANTED
Luca looked at Vanessa as though she had become a stranger.
“You knew your father believed Sofia was murdered?”
Vanessa lowered her eyes.
“I knew he was afraid she had discovered something.”
“That wasn't my question.”
She gripped the tissue until it tore.
“Yes.”
The answer settled over the room.
For two years, Luca had believed his wife's death was a terrible accident.
He had carried the grief into every room of his house.
He had stopped celebrating holidays.
Stopped attending Oliver's school events.
Stopped speaking about Sofia unless someone else mentioned her first.
And Vanessa had known there were questions he should have been asking.
“You let me plan a wedding with you,” Luca said.
Her face twisted.
“I loved you.”
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
Vanessa wiped her cheeks.
“Because my father said you would destroy the foundation if you found out.”
Luca looked away.
That answer hurt more than anger would have.
Because Vanessa had chosen the reputation of her family over the truth about his.
Detective Hayes ended the interview.
Vanessa was escorted into another room.
Luca remained beside the desk.
Oliver sat on the sofa next to me, his head resting against my arm.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said, “you should sit down.”
He gave a tired smile.
“I've been sitting on the wrong side of my own life for two years.”
I didn't know what to say.
So I didn't say anything.
A little later, Detective Hayes returned with an update from the hospital.
Marcus was stable.
His injuries would require treatment, but doctors expected him to recover.
He had provided a detailed account of what happened.
Three nights earlier, Marcus confronted Richard Bellini after discovering unusual transfers from the charity foundation.
Those payments led to a private security company.
The same company had supplied a replacement driver for Sofia on the night she died.
Luca stared at the detective.
“Sofia drove herself.”
“According to the original report,” Hayes said. “But Marcus found evidence someone else had access to her vehicle.”
Daniel leaned against the wall.
“So the question is whether someone interfered with the car.”
“That's one possibility. We are reviewing the original investigation.”
Luca closed his eyes.
I watched him struggle to keep his breathing steady.
For all his money and influence, there was nothing he could do to change that November night.
No order could bring Sofia home.
No guard could protect her retroactively.
But there was still Oliver.
And Oliver was watching.
Luca opened his eyes and crossed the room.
He sat beside his son.
“Buddy, none of this is your fault.”
Oliver looked at him.
“Mommy?”
Luca's voice broke.
“I miss her too.”
Oliver moved into his arms.
For a long time, Luca simply held him.
Then the little boy reached toward the pocket watch.
“Tick.”
Luca opened it.
The hands remained frozen at 4:24.
“It doesn't work anymore.”
Oliver shook his head.
He touched the winding crown.
“Turn.”
Luca gently turned it.
The watch resisted.
Daniel approached.
“Don't force it. If someone altered the mechanism, we may damage evidence.”
Luca handed it over.
Detective Hayes arranged for a forensic examination.
She also informed them that Richard Bellini was requesting an attorney and refusing further questions.
That was his right.
But there was something else.
“Bellini asked whether we had located Eleanor Whitcomb.”
Luca looked up.
“Why?”
“He wouldn't say.”
I remembered the photograph.
The pale blue cardigan.
The way Sofia had smiled with her friend.
“What if Eleanor has the key?” I asked.
Detective Hayes nodded.
“That's possible.”
An officer had already contacted the address listed for Eleanor.
But she no longer lived there.
Her former neighbor said she'd moved after receiving repeated unwanted visits from strangers.
Nobody knew where she went.
Luca looked toward the clock.
“Eleanor was always careful. She kept notebooks. She wouldn't disappear without leaving some way for Sofia to find her.”
Then he stopped.
“Sofia kept letters.”
We returned to the bedroom.
Inside a cedar chest beneath the window were dozens of envelopes tied with blue ribbon.
Birthday cards.
Thank-you notes.
Letters from Sofia's mother.
At the bottom, beneath Oliver's baby photographs, lay a small bundle addressed in Eleanor's handwriting.
Luca opened the first letter.
It described an ordinary visit.
A garden.
A broken coffee machine.
Oliver's first steps.
The second letter mentioned a disagreement about charitable donations.
The third contained only a few sentences.
Luca read them aloud.
“Some things are not lost because people forget them. They are lost because people are frightened to remember.”
He turned the page.
At the bottom was a sketch of a small brass key.
Beside it were the words:
Keep the music playing until you hear the third bell.
I looked toward the white swan music box.
“Could she mean that?”
Luca lifted it.
He wound the mechanism.
A delicate melody filled the room.
One soft chime sounded.
Then another.
Then a third.
The music stopped.
Nothing happened.
Daniel examined the bottom.
“Wait.”
He pressed a small brass pin.
A hidden drawer slid open.
Inside was a folded photograph.
Sofia stood beside Eleanor outside a modest brick building.
A sign above the entrance read:
THE HARBOR HOUSE CHILDREN'S CENTER.
On the back was an address.
Luca recognized it immediately.
“That's one of the foundation's rehabilitation centers.”
Daniel checked the date.
“Three months before Sofia died.”
I looked closer.
Behind the two women, partially hidden near the doorway, stood another figure.
A teenage girl with a red backpack.
“Who's that?” I asked.
Luca shook his head.
But Oliver leaned forward.
“Grace.”
Anthony Russo's missing daughter.
The girl had looked much younger in the photograph.
Daniel stared at it.
“Grace was there years before Anthony claims he knew anything about the foundation.”
Luca's expression darkened.
“Anthony never told me his daughter received treatment there.”
We examined the photograph again.
Something was written on the red backpack.
A name.
Not Grace.
LILY.
I looked at Luca.
“Maybe that's somebody else's backpack.”
Then Daniel turned the photograph toward the light.
On the building's glass door, reflected behind Sofia, stood a familiar man holding a wooden cane.
His face was barely visible.
But the reflection showed a distinctive gold pin on his black coat.
Luca stared at it.
“That pin belonged to my father.”
Detective Hayes studied the image.
“Could someone else have worn it?”
Luca nodded slowly.
“Yes.”
Then he pointed toward the reflected man's wrist.
There was a silver bracelet with three blue stones.
Not a woman's delicate bracelet.
A heavy man's identification band.
The same design as the one in Sofia's photograph.
Luca's voice lowered.
“My father commissioned those pieces for a private family circle.”
“Who belonged to it?” Hayes asked.
Luca looked toward the door.
“Five people.”
He began counting.
“My father. Marcus. Sofia. Richard Bellini.”
Then he stopped.
“And someone I haven't spoken to in twelve years.”
“Who?” I whispered.
May you like
Luca stared at his father's watch.
“MY OLDER BROTHER, GABRIEL.”
