Chapter 3 - THE MAN GABRIEL TRUSTED
Vince Russo didn't deny that he had taken Molly Shaw through the cathedral's service entrance.
That made Gabriel angrier than any lie could have.
“You had her,” Gabriel said. “You had that little girl in your hands, and you didn't tell me?”
Vince stared at the frozen security image.
“I didn't know she was missing.”
Eleanor stepped forward.
“You knew she was eight years old.”
Vince nodded.
“I thought I was helping.”
“Then where is she?”
“I don't know.”
Gabriel took one step toward him.
Vince didn't retreat.
They had known each other for fifteen years.
Vince had protected Gabriel through shootings, betrayals, and a winter night when half the men who swore loyalty to the Moretti family had disappeared.
Gabriel had trusted him with his life.
Now that trust meant very little.
“Start talking,” Gabriel said.
Vince removed his phone and opened a message.
“At ten fifty-eight, Julian instructed me to escort a child from the west entrance to a medical transport. He said her father had arranged an appointment.”
“Why weren't you suspicious?”
“Because Julian said you approved it.”
Gabriel looked at the message.
His name appeared beneath the instruction.
AUTHORIZED BY G.M.
He felt something unpleasant settle in his stomach.
Julian had spent years issuing instructions in Gabriel's name.
Most involved security, deliveries, or routine business.
Gabriel had never questioned the convenience.
Now an eight-year-old girl had vanished through that same system.
“Where did you take her?” Eleanor demanded.
“To a van behind the parish hall. White vehicle. Blue lettering. Private medical service.”
“Which service?”
Vince looked ashamed.
“I didn't record the company name.”
Eleanor turned away.
Gabriel watched her struggle for control.
She had already spent twenty-four hours wondering whether her niece was frightened, hungry, or calling for her father.
Now a man with access to Gabriel's entire security operation was admitting that he had delivered the girl to strangers.
“I want every camera between here and the street,” Gabriel told Vince. “Every vehicle record. Every person who entered that corridor.”
Vince nodded.
“And Vince?”
“Yes?”
“You don't give another order using my name without speaking to me directly.”
“I understand.”
“Good. Because if anything happens to that girl, your good intentions won't change what happened.”
Dr. Benton insisted Eleanor go to the hospital.
Gabriel accompanied her.
Nathan followed in a separate car.
Julian called Gabriel twice during the drive.
Gabriel let both calls go unanswered.
At the hospital, imaging confirmed a small fracture near Eleanor's left ankle and a severe sprain.
Dr. Benton recommended a walking boot, limited weight-bearing, and follow-up care.
Eleanor listened politely.
Then she asked whether she could leave.
The doctor looked at Gabriel.
“She needs rest.”
Gabriel answered without hesitation.
“Then she'll get it.”
Eleanor turned toward him.
“Don't make promises for me.”
He stopped.
She was right.
He had spent their entire acquaintance making decisions that concerned her.
Even now, he had spoken as though her life belonged to him.
“I'm sorry,” he said. “What would you like to do?”
Eleanor looked surprised.
She considered the question.
“I want to find Molly.”
“Then that's what we'll work on.”
“And after?”
“After that, you decide.”
Eleanor watched him for a long moment.
“Even if I decide I never want to see you again?”
Gabriel swallowed.
“Yes.”
She looked away.
For the first time since the cathedral, some of the tension left her shoulders.
Nathan arrived carrying Eleanor's handbag and a folded cream-colored coat.
It was the coat she had worn to the cathedral.
He placed it on a chair.
“I brought your things.”
Eleanor didn't thank him.
Gabriel pulled another chair closer.
“Sit down, Nathan.”
Nathan obeyed.
Gabriel placed a copy of the debt agreement on the bedside table.
“Four hundred and twenty thousand dollars,” he said. “Explain it.”
Nathan rubbed his face.
“I borrowed money after Sarah died.”
Eleanor's expression softened despite herself.
Sarah had been Nathan's wife.
She had died three years earlier, leaving him to raise Molly alone.
Nathan had tried to manage the funeral expenses, the mortgage, and a contracting business that was already struggling.
Gabriel opened the agreement.
“How much did you actually borrow?”
Nathan stared at the floor.
“Eighteen thousand.”
Gabriel went still.
Eleanor looked at her brother.
“What?”
Nathan spoke more quietly.
“Eighteen thousand. That's all.”
“Then where did four hundred and twenty thousand come from?”
“They added penalties. Then another loan appeared. Then they said I'd signed guarantees on equipment.”
Gabriel studied the document.
Several pages carried signatures.
Others carried only initials.
The numbers were absurd, even by the standards of the collection business his organization had operated for years.
“Who handled the loan?” Gabriel asked.
“Julian.”
“Who told you the total?”
“Julian.”
“Who suggested the marriage?”
Nathan closed his eyes.
“Julian.”
Eleanor turned toward the window.
Gabriel could see her shoulders shaking.
He wanted to comfort her.
But he understood that he had not yet earned the right.
Nathan reached for the cream-colored coat.
“Ellie, I kept Sarah's photograph in your pocket. I thought you might want it.”
He took out a small photograph.
Molly stood between Nathan and Sarah at a park.
She was about five, wearing a blue ribbon in her hair.
Three crooked white stars decorated it.
Sarah was laughing.
Nathan handed the picture to his sister.
Eleanor pressed it against her chest.
“She made that ribbon,” she whispered.
Gabriel looked up.
“Sarah?”
Eleanor nodded.
“Molly wanted stars because she was afraid of the dark. Sarah stayed awake sewing them onto a piece of ribbon.”
Nathan wiped his face.
“After Sarah died, Molly wore it whenever she was scared.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Eleanor looked directly at her brother.
“She must be terrified.”
Nathan began to cry.
“I know.”
“No,” Eleanor answered. “You don't get to say that and make everything better.”
Gabriel stepped into the hospital hallway and called Simone Price, the financial controller who supervised the legitimate side of his family's transportation companies.
“I need every transfer connected to Nathan Shaw,” he said.
“Which company?”
“All of them.”
There was a pause.
“Gabriel, those records include private collection accounts.”
“I know.”
“Julian normally handles those.”
“Not anymore.”
Simone didn't ask another question.
She promised to assemble the records.
When Gabriel returned, Eleanor was holding Molly's photograph.
Nathan sat across from her.
Neither was speaking.
Gabriel noticed something protruding from the pocket of her cream coat.
A paper receipt.
He almost ignored it.
Then he recognized the faded motel logo.
Eleanor noticed his attention.
“That's from work.”
Gabriel picked it up.
The name printed across the top was SOUTH GATE MOTOR LODGE.
Beneath it appeared a room number.
214\.
The date was eight months earlier.
Gabriel stared.
He knew that date.
Three people had died in a fire at the Ashland Freight Annex, a Moretti-owned storage facility near the southwest industrial corridor.
The fire had been blamed on faulty electrical wiring.
Gabriel had paid the families.
He had attended the funerals.
Then he had allowed Julian to handle the investigation's aftermath.
“Why do you have this?” he asked.
Eleanor's expression changed.
“Because someone told me not to throw it away.”
“Who?”
“A man named Eli Mercer.”
Gabriel felt his chest tighten.
Eli Mercer had been one of the men who died at Ashland.
Eleanor watched his reaction.
“You knew him?”
“He was a safety inspector.”
“He came to my motel the night of the fire. He was frightened.”
Gabriel pulled a chair closer.
“What did he say?”
“He asked whether we kept duplicate guest receipts. I said yes.”
“Why?”
“He said someone was using hotel bookings to create false timelines. He thought they were planning something at the warehouse.”
Gabriel looked at the receipt again.
“Did he tell you who?”
“No. But he paid for another guest's room and asked me to keep the duplicate.”
“Which guest?”
Eleanor hesitated.
“That's the part I never understood.”
Gabriel looked down at the receipt.
The guest name had been partially obscured by a coffee stain.
Eleanor reached over and flattened the paper.
“The person who booked Room 214 never checked in through the front desk. Our system marked the room as occupied anyway.”
Gabriel moved the receipt closer to the light.
A corporate billing code appeared beneath the name.
It belonged to Moretti Freight.
Eleanor continued.
“Eli came back just after midnight and asked whether the reservation was still active. When I told him yes, he looked terrified.”
“Then what?”
“He said the person in that room was supposed to be somewhere else.”
Gabriel turned the paper over.
On the back, written in Eli's cramped handwriting, were four words.
Check who paid first.
Gabriel examined the receipt again.
Under the booking details was the full guest name.
His own.
GABRIEL MORETTI.
The reservation had been made the night three people burned to death.
And according to the motel's records, Gabriel had been staying in Room 214.
He looked at Eleanor.
“That wasn't me.”
May you like
She nodded slowly.
“Then someone wanted the police to believe it was.”
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