Chapter 3 - THE MAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO DIE|
Hazel stared at the black phone pressed against her ear.
“Yes,” she said.
“She had a black leather case.”
Raymond Castellano didn't respond immediately.
Through the line, she heard a machine beeping.
Then someone spoke faintly in the background.
“Mr. Castellano, you need to rest.”
Raymond ignored the warning.
“Was it small enough to carry under one arm?”
“Yes.”
“Silver clasp?”
“I think so.”
He exhaled sharply.
“Did anyone else see her?”
“I don't know.”
“Hazel, listen carefully.”
She went still.
“Don't go anywhere alone.”
The familiar command made her bristle.
“I have work.”
“Not today.”
“You don't get to decide that.”
Silence.
Then Raymond said something unexpected.
“You're right.”
Hazel blinked.
“I apologize.”
She hadn't expected an apology from a man whose name appeared in newspaper stories about corruption, violence, and waterfront contracts.
Raymond continued.
“Someone tried to kill me.”
“You may have seen the person responsible.”
“And I'm concerned they'll come back.”
Hazel looked toward Mrs. Park.
The older woman was standing near the locked entrance, watching the street.
“I already spoke to the police.”
“Good.”
“You're not angry?”
“Why would I be?”
Hazel hesitated.
“Because people say you handle your own problems.”
His reply came without humor.
“People say many things about me.”
She couldn't argue.
Raymond coughed.
When he spoke again, his voice was strained.
“My attorney will explain everything.”
“I'm not asking you to trust me.”
“Just don't let anyone convince you that what you saw was unimportant.”
The call ended.
Hazel lowered the phone.
For a moment, she simply sat there.
Then she looked at Mrs. Park.
“I have to go to Manhattan.”
Mrs. Park frowned.
“To meet him?”
“Yes.”
“Then I'm coming downstairs with you.”
Hazel almost smiled.
“You don't have to.”
“I know.”
Mrs. Park folded her arms.
“That's why I'm doing it.”
Three hours later, Hazel entered a private medical center overlooking the East River.
Two security guards stood outside Raymond's room.
Neither wore a uniform.
Both watched her closely.
Gabriel Voss met her in the hallway.
He was a thin man with carefully combed gray hair and a navy suit that looked expensive without attracting attention.
“Miss Keen.”
He extended his hand.
“Thank you for coming.”
Hazel shook it.
“Have the police been told what Mr. Castellano remembers?”
“Yes.”
“About Vivian?”
“Especially about Vivian.”
He studied her expression.
“You don't seem reassured.”
“Rosa Delgado is still dead.”
Gabriel lowered his eyes.
“No.”
“She is.”
Hazel looked toward the closed door.
“Then I'd rather talk about what happened than how grateful everyone is.”
A small expression crossed his face.
Respect, perhaps.
“Understood.”
He opened the door.
Raymond Castellano lay in a hospital bed beside the window.
Without his expensive suit, he looked younger than Hazel expected.
His dark hair was disordered.
A narrow bandage crossed his forehead.
One hand rested above the blanket, revealing black-and-gray tattoos along his knuckles and wrist.
A larger tattoo disappeared beneath the sleeve of his hospital gown.
His left leg was elevated in a medical brace.
But it was his eyes Hazel noticed first.
Dark.
Alert.
And focused entirely on her.
“You came.”
She stopped near the doorway.
“Your attorney said you wanted to talk.”
Raymond gestured toward the chair.
“Please.”
Hazel sat.
For several seconds, neither spoke.
Then Raymond said, “Thank you for saving my life.”
She looked down.
“You thanked me outside.”
“I wasn't entirely conscious.”
“I noticed.”
A faint smile moved across his mouth.
It disappeared almost immediately.
“I've been told about Rosa Delgado.”
Hazel looked up.
He continued.
“I understand she was your supervisor.”
“She was my friend.”
Raymond nodded.
“I'm sorry.”
Hazel studied him.
“Did you know the western service exit was defective?”
His expression changed.
“No.”
“She reported it.”
“To whom?”
“Building management.”
“Who handled those reports?”
“An outside facilities company.”
“Owned by whom?”
Raymond paused.
Then looked toward Gabriel.
His attorney understood immediately.
“I'll get the records.”
Hazel nodded.
“Please do.”
Raymond watched her.
“You've been thinking about this.”
“Since they told me Rosa died.”
“Tell me.”
Hazel took a breath.
“The western exit had a faulty latch.”
“The basement stairwell was barred from the outside.”
“Vivian left before the alarm.”
“And she told me no one remained inside.”
Raymond's jaw tightened.
Hazel continued.
“Those things might be separate.”
“But they don't feel separate.”
He looked away.
“No.”
“They don't.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“Raymond, tell her what you remember.”
Raymond's face hardened.
He stared at the window.
“Vivian came to the ballroom shortly before midnight.”
“She told me she had proof someone was stealing from one of our shipping companies.”
“I went downstairs to meet her.”
“Why downstairs?” Hazel asked.
“Because my private office was beneath the eastern wing.”
He paused.
“When I arrived, she was removing files from a locked cabinet.”
“What files?”
“Financial statements.”
“Employee records.”
“And a ledger I'd been keeping.”
Hazel frowned.
“What kind of ledger?”
Raymond looked at her.
“A record of payments I couldn't explain.”
“Payments from whom?”
“Companies connected to people I used to trust.”
Hazel studied his expression.
“You mean criminal associates.”
Gabriel became still.
Raymond didn't deny it.
“Yes.”
The answer surprised her.
He continued.
“For years, I made decisions that hurt people.”
“I won't insult you by pretending otherwise.”
Hazel remained silent.
“But something changed eighteen months ago.”
“What?”
“My younger brother died.”
His eyes darkened.
“He was thirty-two.”
“He wanted out of the business.”
“He wanted to open a restaurant.”
“And instead, someone shot him outside his apartment.”
Hazel felt her anger soften slightly.
“I'm sorry.”
Raymond nodded.
“After Daniel died, I began examining every part of the organization.”
“I found missing money.”
“Unauthorized shipments.”
“Payments to men who were supposed to have been removed from our operations.”
Hazel leaned forward.
“Vivian knew?”
“She knew I was investigating.”
“And she didn't want you to?”
Raymond was silent.
Then he said, “Vivian benefited from the way things were.”
Hazel remembered her expensive dress.
The diamonds.
The waiting car.
“What happened after you confronted her?”
Raymond's expression changed.
“She said I was destroying everything we'd built.”
“We argued.”
“She told me some people would rather see me dead than watch me abandon the family business.”
Hazel's stomach tightened.
“Was that a threat?”
“I didn't think so at the time.”
He swallowed.
“Then she pushed me.”
Hazel went still.
“I fell backward down three stairs.”
“She struck me with something.”
“I don't remember what.”
“When I woke, the stairwell door was closed.”
“And barred.”
“Yes.”
Raymond looked directly at her.
“I heard Vivian tell someone to start the fire.”
The room fell silent.
Hazel stared at him.
“You heard her?”
“I remember her voice.”
“Are you certain?”
His expression hardened.
“I've been married to her for nine years.”
“I know her voice.”
Hazel looked toward Gabriel.
“Did you tell investigators?”
He nodded.
“Everything.”
She thought about the television broadcast.
Vivian was missing.
Her photograph filled every news report.
But she had walked away.
“Why hasn't she been found?”
Gabriel looked troubled.
“Because someone helped her disappear.”
Raymond shifted painfully in the bed.
“Hazel, I need to ask you something.”
She looked at him.
“Did Vivian seem injured?”
“No.”
“Frightened?”
“No.”
“Was she carrying anything besides the case?”
Hazel closed her eyes.
She replayed the moment.
The broken heel.
The uneven footsteps.
The case.
The way Vivian glanced toward the exit.
Then she remembered something.
“A phone.”
Raymond leaned forward.
“What?”
“She was holding a second phone.”
“Not the one she was using.”
“A smaller one.”
“Black.”
“She put it into her purse before speaking to me.”
Gabriel looked sharply toward Raymond.
Raymond went completely still.
“That's impossible.”
Hazel frowned.
“Why?”
Raymond looked at his attorney.
“Daniel's phone.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“You can't know that.”
Raymond stared at Hazel.
“My brother had a small black phone.”
“It disappeared the night he was murdered.”
Hazel's stomach dropped.
“What was on it?”
Raymond looked toward the window.
“Messages.”
“Photographs.”
“And a recording he'd made before he died.”
“Of what?”
Raymond's voice lowered.
“The person who ordered his murder.”
Hazel felt the room grow colder.
She had walked into the hospital expecting to discuss a fire.
Now she was listening to a man describe a conspiracy that had already claimed at least two lives.
Raymond's hand tightened around the blanket.
“I never recovered that phone.”
“Vivian told me it was destroyed.”
Hazel stared at him.
“But she had it.”
“Maybe.”
He swallowed.
“And if she did, it means she knows much more than she's admitted.”
A knock sounded.
One of the security men entered.
“Sir.”
Raymond turned.
“What?”
“There's someone downstairs asking for Miss Keen.”
Hazel stiffened.
“Who?”
The guard hesitated.
“A young woman.”
“She says her name is Marisol Delgado.”
Hazel stood immediately.
“Why is she here?”
The guard looked uncomfortable.
“She received a message telling her to come.”
“From whom?”
He glanced at Raymond.
“From Mrs. Castellano.”
Hazel felt sick.
“What did the message say?”
The guard read from his phone.
IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY YOUR MOTHER DIED, ASK HAZEL WHAT SHE TOOK FROM THE FIRE.
Hazel stared at him.
“I didn't take anything.”
Then she remembered the tiny red leather fragment in her envelope.
And the photograph she had printed in the laundromat.
Someone had been watching her closely enough to know she'd collected evidence.
Raymond slowly pushed himself upright.
“Gabriel.”
His attorney turned.
“Yes?”
“Get Marisol somewhere safe.”
Then he looked at Hazel.
His voice was low and deadly serious.
“Vivian isn't trying to silence you anymore.”
Hazel swallowed.
“What is she doing?”
May you like
Raymond's expression hardened.
“She's trying to make everyone believe you started the fire.”
