Chapter 7 - The Driver's Terrible Secret|
Thomas Rourke had served Vincent Moretti for six years.
He drove the armored vehicles, coordinated travel, and occasionally stood between Vincent and men who wished him dead.
Clare had always believed Thomas was loyal to the Moretti family.
Now she learned his loyalty had begun somewhere else.
Eight years earlier, he had worked as a private driver for Hale Marine executives.
James Hale had hired him after receiving anonymous threats.
For three months, Thomas drove Clare's father to warehouses, business meetings, and appointments with attorneys.
One evening, James asked him to deliver a sealed envelope to a federal courthouse.
Thomas agreed.
Then someone called with a warning.
His younger brother had been attacked outside a restaurant.
The caller knew where Thomas's mother lived.
The message was simple.
Do not deliver the envelope.
Thomas had been twenty-nine.
His mother was recovering from cancer treatment.
His brother had two small daughters.
He became afraid.
Instead of going to the courthouse, he returned the envelope to James.
“I told him someone had threatened my family,” Thomas said.
Clare sat very still.
“What did my father say?”
“He said I should have told him sooner.”
Thomas swallowed.
“He wasn't angry with me.”
Clare stared at his face.
“Then what happened?”
“Two days later, his car went off the coastal road.”
Tears filled Clare's eyes.
Thomas continued.
“I tried to find out who had threatened us.”
“But nobody would talk.”
“Eventually, a man offered me work with the Moretti organization.”
Clare's voice became cold.
“You took it?”
Thomas nodded.
“I thought if I got close enough, I could find out who ordered your father's death.”
“And did you?”
“No.”
“Eight years, Thomas.”
“I know.”
“Eight years of watching Vincent.”
“Yes.”
“Eight years of watching me marry him.”
Thomas lowered his head.
“I know what that makes me look like.”
Clare stood too quickly.
Pain pulled through her abdomen.
Nina reached toward her, but she stepped away.
“You should have told me.”
“I should have.”
“My father died thinking he couldn't protect us.”
Thomas's voice cracked.
“He died because other people were willing to hurt innocent families.”
Clare looked at him.
“And you kept their secrets.”
Thomas accepted the accusation without defending himself.
“Yes.”
For a long moment, the only sound was Noah breathing in his bassinet.
Then Clare spoke.
“Leave us.”
Thomas nodded and walked away.
Nina watched the door close.
“Do you want me to remove him from the security arrangements?”
Clare looked toward her son.
“I don't know.”
She hated that answer.
She wanted certainty.
She wanted to know whom she could trust.
But betrayal had taught her that certainty could be manufactured.
Later that evening, Clare received a call through Nina's office.
Vincent's attorney wanted to arrange a conversation.
Clare almost refused.
Then she thought about the false signatures, Damian's messages, and her father's death.
She agreed to a supervised call with Nina present.
Vincent appeared on the screen wearing a charcoal sweater.
He looked tired.
His eyes moved immediately over Clare's face.
“Clare.”
She did not answer.
“Thank God.”
He leaned closer.
“I've been looking everywhere.”
“I know.”
“Are you all right?”
She looked at him.
“Do I look all right?”
Vincent flinched.
“I'm sorry about what happened.”
“Which part?”
He frowned.
“The shooting.”
“Or leaving me on the floor?”
His expression tightened.
“I told Thomas to get you.”
“Yes.”
“I knew he would.”
“And if he hadn't?”
Vincent looked away.
Clare waited.
For four years, she had filled his silences with excuses.
She would not do that anymore.
“Ruby was trapped,” he finally said.
“So was I.”
“She couldn't move.”
“I couldn't stand.”
Vincent rubbed his forehead.
“It happened so fast.”
Clare leaned toward the screen.
“Not too fast for you to see me.”
His eyes lifted.
“Clare—”
“You looked directly at me.”
“I know.”
“I told you our baby was in danger.”
He opened his mouth.
She continued.
“You made a choice, Vincent.”
His jaw tightened.
“I made a mistake.”
“No.”
Clare's voice remained steady.
“A mistake is forgetting an anniversary.”
“A mistake is saying something cruel during an argument.”
“What you did was look at your bleeding wife and walk away with another woman.”
Vincent stared at her.
For the first time, he seemed to have no prepared response.
Then his expression softened.
“Come home.”
Clare felt an old ache.
She remembered loving him.
She remembered the man who once stood outside her office in the rain because she had forgotten her umbrella.
She remembered the honeymoon when he promised they would never become strangers.
But she also remembered the hospital operating room.
The fear.
The blood.
The desperate prayer that her son would survive.
“No,” she said.
Vincent's expression changed.
“He's my child too.”
“I know.”
“You can't keep my son from me.”
“Then ask a court for what you believe you're entitled to.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Don't turn this into a war.”
Clare looked at him for a long moment.
“Vincent, you brought a war into a restaurant where your pregnant wife was having dinner.”
He became silent.
She continued.
“I don't know whether you planned what happened.”
“But I know what you did when it happened.”
Vincent leaned back.
“Who have you been talking to?”
“My lawyer.”
“Anyone else?”
Clare remained silent.
He studied her.
Then he spoke in a lower voice.
“Whatever Thomas told you, be careful.”
Clare's blood turned cold.
“What do you mean?”
“Thomas has secrets.”
“So do you.”
Vincent's gaze hardened.
“Some secrets can get people killed.”
Nina immediately ended the call.
Clare stared at the blank screen.
Her hands were trembling.
Nina placed a glass of water beside her.
“He was trying to frighten you.”
“I know.”
“Did it work?”
Clare looked toward Noah's bassinet.
“Yes.”
Then she stood.
“But I'm not going back.”
Outside, Thomas waited in the corridor.
Clare approached him.
He straightened, expecting to be dismissed.
Instead, she asked one question.
“Can you get the music box without putting anyone else in danger?”
Thomas looked surprised.
“I can try.”
“Then you do it with Agent Ward's approval, not alone.”
He nodded.
“And Thomas?”
“Yes?”
“If you ever hide something important from me again, you leave our lives permanently.”
Thomas accepted the condition.
“I understand.”
Before midnight, Agent Ward arranged for investigators to retrieve the music box from the mansion through a lawful search authorized by a federal judge.
Thomas provided the information needed to locate it.
Vincent was away when the agents arrived.
But Damian was not.
From the upper landing, he watched investigators carry a small wooden box out of Clare's former bedroom.
Then he made a call.
“They found the Hale box.”
A man's voice answered.
“Then it's time to stop pretending this is only a marriage problem.”
Damian looked toward the nursery Vincent had prepared for his son.
“Understood.”
May you like
The voice spoke again.
“Bring me the boy.”
