Chapter 3 - THE PHOTOGRAPH IN THE ENVELOPE|
Dante stared at the photograph on his phone until the screen dimmed.
It showed Maren kneeling alone in the chapel.
Her head was bowed.
Her cardigan lay folded beside the candle.
The picture had been taken through the eastern window.
Judging by the position of the moonlight, it was only a few nights old.
His wife had been watched inside the one place where she believed nobody could see her.
A cold fury moved through him.
Maren noticed the change immediately.
"What happened?"
"Nothing you need to worry about."
The words came automatically.
He regretted them before he finished speaking.
Maren's expression closed.
"There it is again."
He looked up.
"What?"
"The door."
He frowned.
"What door?"
"The one you close whenever something frightening happens."
Her voice was gentle.
"You walk through it, and I'm left outside."
Dante stared at her.
For a year, he had mistaken her silence for acceptance.
Tonight, he could see how much of that silence had been learned.
He turned the phone toward her.
Maren studied the photograph.
Her fingers moved toward her mouth.
"That's me."
"Yes."
"When?"
"Recently."
She looked toward the bedroom window as though somebody might be waiting behind the curtains.
"Who took it?"
"I don't know."
"Are they threatening you?"
Dante hesitated.
"Possibly."
Her eyes returned to the picture.
"They've been there before."
His expression changed.
"What do you mean?"
Maren pulled the blanket around herself.
"Sometimes the chapel window rattles when there's no wind."
"Why didn't you tell anyone?"
"Because it's an old building."
She paused.
"And because I didn't want anyone to know I was there."
Dante reached for his phone.
"Nico."
The call connected immediately.
"Boss?"
"Seal the grounds."
"Already done."
"Every gate, every camera, every access road."
"Yes, sir."
"And nobody approaches the chapel until I say so."
There was a brief silence.
"Understood."
Dante ended the call.
Maren watched him.
"You're going to find whoever took it."
"Yes."
"And then?"
He looked at her.
His old answer would have been simple.
He would have described consequences in language that left no room for mercy.
Instead, he said, "Then we'll find out what they want."
Maren noticed the restraint.
She also noticed how difficult it was for him.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Why were you shot tonight?"
Dante leaned back against the headboard.
For several seconds, he considered telling her that it was a minor disagreement.
The lie was familiar.
So was the temptation.
But Maren had just given him the truth of three hundred and sixty-four nights.
He owed her more than another locked door.
"There was a meeting at the river docks."
"About your business?"
"About a shipment that disappeared."
"What kind of shipment?"
"Medical equipment."
Maren blinked.
"Medical equipment?"
Dante gave a humorless laugh.
"I know what you think I do for a living."
"Do you?"
He studied her.
"Tell me."
"You run legitimate businesses."
"Yes."
"And businesses that aren't legitimate."
He didn't deny it.
"You have men who are loyal to you because you protect them."
"Some."
"And men who are loyal because they're afraid of you."
"More than I would like."
Maren folded her hands.
"I married you knowing your name, Dante."
"You married me because your father owed money."
Her expression hardened.
"That was why our families arranged the marriage."
She met his eyes.
"It isn't why I stayed."
The distinction struck him harder than he expected.
He had spent fourteen months thinking of their marriage as an obligation she endured.
He had never asked whether her feelings had changed.
"The missing equipment belonged to a hospital supply contract," he explained.
"One of my companies handles transportation."
"And someone stole it?"
"Someone diverted it."
"Why?"
"That's what I was trying to find out."
Maren considered this.
"What happened at the meeting?"
"Someone fired from a warehouse roof."
She looked at his shoulder.
"You could have died."
"Yes."
The honesty silenced them both.
Dante took her hand.
"I should have called you."
"You should have come home."
Her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Not just tonight."
He bowed his head.
"I know."
The bedroom door opened after a quiet knock.
Nico entered holding a sealed plastic evidence sleeve.
Dante's expression changed.
"What is it?"
"The original envelope."
Nico placed it on the desk.
"There was a message on the back."
Maren straightened.
"What message?"
Nico looked at Dante.
"Boss—"
"Read it."
Nico took a breath.
"'Ask your wife what she knows about the night the warehouse burned.'"
The room went silent.
Dante turned slowly toward Maren.
She had gone pale.
"Maren?"
She shook her head.
"I don't understand."
But Dante had spent his life studying faces.
He saw recognition.
Not guilt.
Not exactly.
Fear.
"What do you know?"
Maren looked at Nico.
Then toward the door.
Dante understood.
"Nico, give us a minute."
The security chief hesitated.
"Boss, there are things—"
"A minute."
Nico left.
Maren stared at the folded blanket covering her knees.
"I didn't tell you something about the hospital."
Dante felt a cold weight settle in his chest.
"What?"
"The second night you were unconscious, a woman came to see me."
"Who?"
"I don't know her name."
"What did she look like?"
"Older than me, maybe in her forties."
Maren struggled to remember.
"Dark hair, brown coat, a scar near her eyebrow."
Dante went still.
"Did she say why she was there?"
"She said she worked at the warehouse."
"Doing what?"
"Accounting."
Dante's face changed.
Maren noticed.
"You know who she is."
"Keep talking."
"She asked whether you had mentioned a man named Adrian."
Dante's fingers tightened around the sheet.
"Adrian Voss?"
Maren nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Adrian Voss had been Dante's business partner before the warehouse fire.
The man who died when the building collapsed.
The man whose funeral Dante had paid for.
And the man whose death had ended a dispute over millions of dollars in missing inventory.
"What else did she say?" Dante asked.
"She told me the fire wasn't an accident."
He stared at her.
"Did you believe her?"
"I didn't know what to believe."
Maren's eyes filled.
"She said someone had arranged for you to be inside when the building exploded."
"Who?"
"She wouldn't tell me."
Dante leaned forward.
"Why not?"
"Because she was frightened."
A tear rolled down Maren's cheek.
"She said if I wanted you to survive, I needed to stay quiet."
He felt anger rising.
"Why didn't you come to me?"
"You were unconscious."
"Afterward."
Maren hesitated.
"Afterward, a man came to the house."
Dante's expression became dangerous.
"What man?"
"He said he worked for your family."
"Name."
"Leonard Pike."
Dante stood so abruptly that pain shot through his injured shoulder.
Maren reached for him.
"Dante!"
He barely heard her.
Leonard Pike was his father's former attorney.
A man who had managed sensitive family matters for decades.
A man who had personally reassured Dante that Maren was being protected while he recovered.
"What did Pike say?"
Maren swallowed.
"He told me the woman had been killed."
Dante closed his eyes.
"He said that if I repeated her story, the people responsible would come after you again."
Her voice broke.
"I thought keeping quiet was the only thing I could do."
Dante pressed his hand against the edge of the desk.
For a year, he had believed his wife lived comfortably behind expensive gates.
Now he was discovering that someone had used those gates to imprison her in fear.
"Did Pike threaten you?"
"Not directly."
"What exactly did he say?"
Maren looked at him.
"He said widows should learn when to stop asking questions."
Dante's expression went utterly still.
Maren recognized that stillness.
It was the face that appeared in newspaper photographs whenever someone mentioned the Caruso name.
"Dante, please."
He turned toward her.
"Please what?"
"Don't disappear again."
The plea stopped him.
She held out her hand.
"Whatever happens, don't leave me alone in this."
He crossed the room and sat beside her.
Then he took her hand.
"I won't."
She searched his face.
"Promise?"
"I promise."
Outside, a car approached the main gate.
A moment later, Nico called again.
Dante answered.
"What?"
Nico sounded shaken.
"Boss, we checked the chapel camera."
"And?"
"Someone disabled it nine months ago."
"Find out who."
"We did."
Dante waited.
Nico continued.
"The authorization came from Leonard Pike's office."
For the first time that night, Dante understood that the gunshot at the docks was not the beginning of anything.
It was the continuation of something that had started a year earlier.
Then Nico said something worse.
"There's one more thing."
"What?"
"Leonard Pike entered the mansion twenty minutes ago."
Dante looked toward the bedroom door.
"Where is he now?"
May you like
Nico's answer came in a whisper.
"Nobody knows."
