Chapter 4 - 11:17
They returned to the Costello estate at 2:28 in the morning.
Sam was safe.
Victor had moved him to another floor under the protection of hospital security and two of Luca’s men.
Sadi hated that she felt relieved knowing Victor’s people were nearby.
She hated even more that she was beginning to trust him.
The antique desk stood in a smaller room behind Victor’s office.
It had belonged to Arturo Costello.
Victor pushed aside a stack of books.
“There.”
A narrow drawer sat beneath a carved panel.
The brass key slid into the lock.
For nine years, Victor had been unable to open it.
Now it turned easily.
Sadi held her breath.
Inside was a microcassette recorder.
Nothing else.
Victor stared at it.
“You were expecting diamonds?”
Sadi asked.
“No.”
“You look disappointed.”
“I’m afraid.”
It was the first time she had heard him say those words.
Victor removed the recorder.
A cassette was already inside.
On the label, written in black ink, were four numbers.
11:17.
Sadi looked at the watch.
“That can’t be a coincidence.”
“No.”
The batteries were dead.
Victor found replacements in a cabinet.
His fingers remained steady as he installed them.
Then he pressed PLAY.
Static filled the room.
A chair scraped.
Arturo Costello spoke first.
“You’ve gone too far.”
Another man answered.
“You built this.”
Victor froze.
Sadi looked at him.
“You know the voice?”
Victor didn’t answer.
The tape continued.
Arturo said, “I built something to protect this family. I didn’t build a machine that feeds on children.”
“You’re becoming sentimental.”
“They’re stealing chemotherapy grants, Carlo.”
Sadi’s skin went cold.
Victor shut his eyes.
The second voice belonged to Carlo Costello.
Victor’s uncle.
Arturo’s younger brother.
Carlo had helped Victor take control after Arturo’s death.
He had taught him how to survive.
The recording continued.
Arturo said, “Tomorrow I take everything to the authorities.”
“You do that and half the men who call you brother go to prison.”
“So be it.”
“You’d burn us all?”
“I’d burn the whole empire before I let you hide poison behind sick children.”
A sound interrupted them.
A door.
Then Ruth Hayes’s voice.
Sadi stopped breathing.
“Mr. Costello?”
Her mother.
Clear.
Alive.
Frightened.
Arturo said something too low to understand.
Carlo cursed.
Then came a sharp crack.
A gunshot.
Sadi flinched.
On the tape, Ruth screamed.
The recorder hit something hard.
Static swallowed the rest.
Then silence.
Sadi stared at the machine.
“My mother watched him die.”
Victor’s face looked carved from stone.
“My uncle shot him.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know his voice.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“I know his voice.”
Victor’s anger was terrifying because he didn’t raise it.
His hands remained flat on the desk.
Sadi understood then why people feared him.
It wasn’t because Victor Costello lost control.
It was because he rarely did.
She touched the watch.
“Why did Mom take this?”
“Maybe my father gave it to her.”
“Why hide it?”
“To protect whatever was inside.”
“The key.”
Victor nodded.
Sadi looked toward the office door.
“Does Carlo still come here?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“He has dinner here every Thursday.”
Sadi checked the clock.
Thursday.
“He was here tonight?”
Victor didn’t answer quickly enough.
Her stomach dropped.
“Victor.”
“He arrived at midnight.”
She backed away.
“You have the man who may have murdered both our parents inside this house?”
“I did not know any of this an hour ago.”
“Where is he?”
“In the west sitting room.”
Sadi stared.
“You left him waiting?”
“I told him I had business.”
“What kind of business?”
Victor’s mouth hardened.
“The kind that decides whether people live long enough to regret lying to me.”
Sadi stepped between him and the door.
“You cannot kill him.”
Victor looked down at her.
“That’s interesting.”
“What?”
“You’re telling me what I can’t do in my own house.”
“I’m telling you that if you shoot him, we lose whatever he knows about my mother.”
That stopped him.
“And Mick,” she added. “And Sam.”
Victor looked at the photograph again.
Then at Ruth’s medal around Sadi’s neck.
“You’re right.”
Sadi exhaled.
Victor put the cassette recorder in his desk drawer.
The watch remained in his hand.
“What now?”
“We talk to him.”
Sadi laughed once.
“You’re going to casually ask your uncle whether he murdered your father?”
“No.”
“What are you going to ask?”
Victor opened the office door.
“Nothing.”
She followed.
“Then what are we doing?”
“Watching him lie.”
The west sitting room smelled of cigars and old leather.
Carlo Costello stood near the fireplace.
He was in his early sixties, gray at the temples, broad through the shoulders, dressed with the quiet precision of a man who had never needed to display wealth because everyone already knew he had it.
He turned when Victor entered.
“Finally.”
Then Carlo saw Sadi.
His expression barely moved.
But she saw recognition.
Not of her.
Of the medal.
His gaze dropped to Saint Michael at her throat.
Then Victor placed Arturo’s watch on the table.
Carlo’s face changed.
Only for a second.
Victor noticed.
Sadi did too.
Carlo looked from the watch to Sadi.
“Where did you get that?”
Victor leaned against the table.
“You tell me.”
Carlo didn’t touch it.
“That watch disappeared the night your father died.”
“I know.”
“Was it hers?”
His eyes shifted to Sadi.
Victor said, “Why would you think that?”
Carlo recovered quickly.
“I remember the maid.”
Sadi’s chest tightened.
“You knew my mother?”
Carlo studied her face.
“Ruth Hayes.”
He said the name too easily.
Victor’s voice became colder.
“You told me no one saw my father after ten that night.”
Carlo looked at him.
“That was what I was told.”
“You were with him.”
Silence.
Victor stepped closer.
“At 11:17.”
For the first time, Carlo looked afraid.
Then he did something neither Sadi nor Victor expected.
He smiled.
“You found the tape.”
Victor didn’t move.
May you like
Carlo’s smile disappeared.
“And if you think that tape proves Ruth Hayes was innocent, you understand even less than I thought.”
