Chapter 6 - The Red Coat in the Attic
“Eleanor, if you found this, don’t bring a Gallo.”
Dominic read the sentence twice.
Then handed the drawing back to Nora.
“You’re not going alone.”
“I knew you’d say that.”
“You were apparently expected to.”
Beatrice looked worried.
“Maybe that warning exists for a reason.”
Dominic glanced at her.
“So does the Glock under my coat.”
Nora almost laughed.
It surprised all three of them.
The sound lasted only a second.
But it mattered.
They drove north before dawn.
Not in a convoy.
Not in armored SUVs.
Nora insisted on Dominic’s older sedan, which looked ordinary enough to disappear in traffic.
Leo followed several miles behind.
The Hudson Valley Women’s Cooperative had indeed closed years earlier.
The address now belonged to a farmhouse.
White siding.
Sagging porch.
An apple orchard stretching behind it.
Nora stopped at the gate.
A red wool coat hung from the porch railing.
Her breath left her.
Dominic saw her face.
“The coat?”
“The one Claire wore at Saint Agnes.”
They approached slowly.
The front door was unlocked.
Inside smelled of cedar and old coffee.
No people.
No movement.
On the kitchen table sat a record player.
Beside it was a handwritten note.
Play me.
Nora lifted the needle.
A scratchy recording began.
A woman singing.
Softly.
Two little bluebirds sitting on a wall.
One named Eleanor.
One named Claire.
Nora covered her mouth.
“My mother.”
Beatrice began crying.
Dominic searched the room with his eyes.
Family photographs covered one wall.
Different women.
Children.
Holiday dinners.
Graduations.
And then he saw her.
A woman in her late thirties or early forties, standing beside two teenage girls.
She had Nora’s eyes.
Nora saw it too.
“Claire.”
She crossed the room.
Her fingers touched the photograph.
The woman was smiling.
Alive.
Not a frightened teenager.
Not a memory.
A mother.
On the frame was written:
Claire, Lily & Anna — Christmas 2024.
Nora cried without sound.
Dominic remained several feet away.
He understood instinctively that this moment did not belong to him.
Beatrice whispered, “She lived.”
Nora laughed through tears.
“She lived.”
Then Dominic noticed the date.
2024.
Nearly two years earlier.
“Where are they now?”
Nora began examining the other pictures.
The most recent photograph was eight months old.
Claire stood alone beside the orchard.
No children.
No smile.
A blue scarf covered her hair.
Dominic’s stomach tightened.
Nora noticed.
“She was sick.”
Beatrice crossed herself.
A floorboard creaked upstairs.
Dominic immediately moved in front of Nora.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
He looked back.
She gave him a look.
After everything he had seen, he did not argue.
They climbed together.
At the end of the upstairs hallway, a small attic room stood open.
Inside sat cardboard boxes.
A sewing machine.
Children’s books.
And a wooden trunk.
Nora opened it.
On top lay the red coat.
The real one.
The garment on the porch had only been a signal.
Nora lifted it carefully.
Something metallic dropped onto the floor.
Dominic picked it up.
A pocket watch.
Old.
Heavy.
Engraved with initials.
A.G.
“My father’s,” Dominic said.
Nora stared at him.
Inside the watch cover was a tiny photograph.
Angelo Gallo.
Samuel Vale.
Standing together.
Friends.
Dominic had never seen the image.
Beneath it was folded paper.
A letter.
This one was from Angelo.
Dominic read aloud.
“Samuel,
I was wrong to trust Arthur’s word. I should have taken both girls myself. Claire is alive, but he has hidden her where neither of us can reach her without exposing Eleanor. I will keep searching. If I fail, Beatrice knows enough to protect one child. One is better than none, though God forgive me for writing those words.”
Nora sat down hard on the attic floor.
Dominic continued.
“Do not contact me. Arthur has someone inside my house.”
He stopped.
Nora looked up.
“Inside the Gallo house?”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
The next line had been cut from the paper.
Deliberately.
A clean rectangle missing.
Dominic swore under his breath.
Nora searched the trunk.
Under the coat were newspaper clippings.
Charity galas.
Court appointments.
Construction contracts.
Names circled in red.
Then one photograph stopped Dominic.
His father at a family dinner.
Dominic was perhaps eighteen.
Beatrice stood in the background.
Leo’s father stood near the door.
And beside Angelo was a younger man Dominic knew very well.
Frankie Romano.
Beatrice’s brother.
The guard who had been unconscious in the foyer tonight.
Nora looked at Beatrice.
“Frankie worked for Angelo?”
Beatrice’s face had gone white.
“He was fifteen when my brother first started doing errands.”
“You never told me he was your brother,” Dominic said.
Beatrice looked stricken.
“You never asked.”
“Beatrice.”
“He changed his last name after prison.”
Dominic stared.
“What prison?”
Before she could answer, a young woman spoke from the attic doorway.
“Uncle Frankie went to prison because of my mother.”
Everyone turned.
She was about seventeen.
Dark hair.
Claire’s eyes.
Nora stood.
The girl held a baseball bat, but her hands shook.
“Are you Lily?”
The girl looked at Nora.
Her expression shifted.
“Oh.”
The bat lowered.
“You really do look like her.”
Nora could barely speak.
“Where is Claire?”
Lily’s eyes filled.
“At the hospital.”
Nora moved immediately.
Lily raised the bat again.
“Wait.”
Nora stopped.
“My mom said if you ever came, I had to ask one question.”
“What question?”
Lily looked at Dominic.
Then back at Nora.
“What color was Grandma’s kitchen?”
Nora’s face broke.
“Yellow.”
Lily’s bat fell to the floor.
“With blue curtains,” Nora added.
The girl burst into tears.
Nora crossed the room and held her niece for the first time.
Dominic looked away.
Then Lily whispered against Nora’s shoulder,
“My mom said you’d come when Arthur was finally afraid.”
Nora drew back.
“What does that mean?”
Lily wiped her face.
“She said he only gets scared when somebody finds the ledger.”
Dominic and Nora exchanged a look.
“The painting,” Dominic said.
Lily nodded.
“My mom told me the ledger isn’t inside the painting.”
Nora frowned.
“Then what is?”
Lily looked toward Angelo’s pocket watch in Dominic’s hand.
“The name of the person who betrayed both your families.”
Dominic’s expression hardened.
“Who?”
Lily swallowed.
May you like
“My mother said it was someone Dominic still trusts.”
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