Chapter 6 - THE ACCOUNT IN HIS NAME|
By noon, Daniel Romano had become the owner of two million dollars he had never seen.
At least, that was what the bank records claimed.
Samuel Mercer spread the documents across Gabriel's desk while rain struck the windows of the mansion.
Daniel stood beside the fireplace.
He had taken off his work jacket and folded it neatly over a chair.
The simple gesture made my chest ache.
Even now, accused of stealing a fortune, he seemed more concerned about leaving someone's furniture untidy.
Gabriel examined the first statement.
“Northbridge transferred money into an account at Franklin Commercial Bank.”
Mercer nodded.
“The account was opened in Daniel's name fourteen months ago.”
Daniel frowned.
“Fourteen months?”
“Yes.”
“I was working in Milwaukee that week.”
Gabriel looked up.
“Doing what?”
“Installing heating equipment at a hospital.”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I remember because it was my first job supervising another technician.”
Mercer made a note.
“Can your employer verify it?”
“Probably.”
Daniel reached for his phone.
“I kept the timesheets.”
Gabriel watched him.
Then something like pride flickered across his face.
Daniel wasn't panicking.
He was trying to solve the problem.
Mercer continued.
“The account received several transfers over four months.”
“How much total?” Gabriel asked.
“Approximately two million dollars.”
Daniel stared at the papers.
“Where did it go?”
Mercer turned the page.
“Most of it was transferred out almost immediately.”
“To whom?”
“Several accounts connected to intermediary businesses.”
Gabriel leaned back.
“And who owns those businesses?”
“We're still tracing them.”
Daniel looked toward the rain.
“Someone used my name because they thought nobody would believe me.”
Nobody contradicted him.
That was the cruelest part.
A few years earlier, people might not have believed him.
Daniel had made mistakes.
He'd borrowed money he couldn't repay.
He'd missed work.
He'd lied about drinking because admitting the truth frightened him.
But he had worked for twenty-six months to build a different life.
Now someone was trying to turn the person he'd once been into evidence against the person he'd become.
Gabriel stood.
“I want the bank's original account-opening records.”
Mercer nodded.
“And we need an independent forensic accountant.”
“Hire one.”
Gabriel looked at Daniel.
“We'll establish where you were, who opened the account, and who actually controlled the money.”
Daniel hesitated.
“Gabe?”
“Yeah?”
“I want my own lawyer.”
Gabriel stopped.
For a second, I wondered whether he'd be offended.
Instead, he nodded.
“Good idea.”
Daniel looked surprised.
“You don't mind?”
“Why would I?”
“Because you're already handling everything.”
Gabriel shook his head.
“Exactly.”
He stepped closer.
“You deserve someone whose job is to represent you, not the family business.”
Daniel swallowed.
“Thank you.”
Mercer immediately offered to recommend an independent attorney.
Gabriel agreed, but made clear Daniel could choose for himself.
The conversation was interrupted when Mrs. Alvarez entered.
She had worked for the Romano family for twenty-three years.
Her silver hair was secured in a neat bun, and she wore an expression I rarely saw.
She looked frightened.
“Mr. Gabriel?”
He turned.
“Yes, Rosa?”
“May I speak with you?”
“Of course.”
She glanced toward Daniel.
“Privately.”
Daniel reached for his jacket.
“I can leave.”
Mrs. Alvarez shook her head.
“No, Mr. Daniel.”
Her eyes filled.
“You should hear this too.”
Gabriel gestured toward a chair.
She sat carefully.
For a moment, she stared at her folded hands.
Then she said, “I knew Mrs. Langford had been taking things from your father's sitting room.”
Gabriel went still.
“What things?”
“Letters.”
My stomach tightened.
“Financial papers.”
She swallowed.
“And photographs.”
Daniel frowned.
“Photographs?”
Mrs. Alvarez nodded.
“Pictures of you with your father.”
He looked confused.
“Why would she take those?”
“I don't know.”
Her voice trembled.
“But I heard her tell Mr. Vale that memories can be just as dangerous as documents.”
Gabriel stared at her.
“When was this?”
“About six months ago.”
Daniel looked down.
“That explains something.”
We turned toward him.
He rubbed his hands together.
“Dad used to keep a photograph of me in his study.”
Gabriel nodded.
“The one from your high school graduation?”
“No.”
Daniel smiled sadly.
“The one where I'm about eight and he's helping me fix an old radiator.”
Gabriel's face softened.
“I remember that picture.”
Daniel stared at the floor.
“Last Christmas, I asked Victoria if I could have a copy.”
He swallowed.
“She told me Dad had thrown it away.”
Mrs. Alvarez began crying.
“No.”
Daniel looked up.
“No?”
“I packed that photograph myself.”
She wiped her eyes.
“It was on his bedside table when he died.”
Daniel's expression collapsed.
Gabriel put a hand on his shoulder.
Mrs. Alvarez continued.
“Your father kept it beside the lamp.”
She looked directly at Daniel.
“He said you had always been good at fixing things.”
Daniel shook his head slowly.
For years, he'd believed his father remembered only the broken parts of his life.
Now he was learning that the man had kept a photograph of their happiest afternoon within reach of his bed.
“Where is it?” Daniel whispered.
Mrs. Alvarez looked ashamed.
“I don't know.”
Gabriel crouched beside her.
“Rosa, listen to me.”
She looked up.
“You've done nothing wrong by telling us.”
Her lip trembled.
“I should have spoken sooner.”
Gabriel's expression softened.
“We all should have.”
He stood.
“Did you see where Victoria kept the papers?”
Mrs. Alvarez hesitated.
“She used the old conservatory.”
Gabriel frowned.
“The conservatory has been closed for months.”
“Yes.”
She nodded.
“But Mrs. Langford had a key.”
I remembered carrying flowers there before the room was closed.
It stood behind the east wing, surrounded by tall windows and climbing ivy.
Victoria had claimed the heating system was unreliable and ordered staff to stay away.
Daniel suddenly straightened.
“The conservatory?”
Gabriel looked at him.
“What?”
“I repaired the heating unit there last winter.”
“Before it closed?”
Daniel nodded.
“Dad asked me to do it.”
He paused.
“And Victoria was furious when she found out.”
Gabriel frowned.
“Why?”
“She said outside contractors were supposed to handle maintenance.”
Daniel looked offended even remembering it.
“I told her I wasn't an outside contractor.”
He swallowed.
“Dad laughed.”
Gabriel smiled faintly.
“That sounds like him.”
Daniel continued.
“Dad told me the conservatory was the only room where he could think without someone interrupting.”
Mercer's expression sharpened.
“Did he keep records there?”
“Not that I saw.”
Daniel hesitated.
“But he asked me to repair something else.”
“What?”
“An old wall safe.”
Gabriel's face changed.
“There's a safe in the conservatory?”
Daniel nodded.
“Behind a wooden panel beneath the windows.”
Gabriel stared at him.
“Did you open it?”
“No.”
“I replaced a damaged hinge on the outer compartment.”
Daniel frowned.
“Dad said he'd forgotten the combination years ago.”
Mercer leaned forward.
“Did he give you any instructions?”
Daniel thought for a moment.
“He made a joke.”
Gabriel waited.
“He said if I ever needed to open it, I should remember the first thing he taught me to repair.”
Daniel gave a small smile.
“A radiator.”
Gabriel looked toward the door.
“Anthony.”
The security chief appeared almost immediately.
“Sir?”
“Check the conservatory.”
Anthony nodded.
“And bring the estate maintenance records.”
Daniel stood.
“I can show you where the safe is.”
Gabriel looked at him.
“Are you comfortable doing that?”
Daniel considered the question.
Then nodded.
“Yeah.”
He picked up his work jacket.
“I think I'd like to fix one more thing for Dad.”
We crossed the east wing together.
The conservatory was cold and dusty.
Dead leaves gathered against the glass doors.
A grand piano stood beneath a white sheet.
Daniel walked toward the far wall.
He knelt beside a wooden panel.
“Here.”
Gabriel joined him.
Daniel felt along the lower edge.
A hidden latch clicked.
The panel opened.
Behind it was a compact steel safe.
Gabriel studied the keypad.
“Six digits.”
Daniel stared at it.
For a moment, he looked almost frightened.
Then he entered a number.
The safe beeped.
Red light.
He tried another.
Another red light.
Gabriel touched his shoulder.
“Take your time.”
Daniel closed his eyes.
“The first thing Dad taught me to repair.”
He smiled suddenly.
“Not the radiator.”
Gabriel frowned.
“What?”
Daniel looked up.
“The radiator was broken, but I couldn't fix it.”
He laughed softly.
“Dad said sometimes you have to start with something smaller.”
He entered another six-digit sequence.
The keypad flashed green.
A metallic click sounded.
Gabriel stared at him.
“You remembered.”
Daniel smiled through tears.
“Dad made me fix the kitchen clock first.”
He opened the safe.
Inside were three objects.
A leather-bound ledger.
A small velvet pouch.
And a photograph.
Daniel reached for the photograph first.
He stared at it.
Then began crying.
It showed a little boy standing beside an old radiator, holding a wrench nearly as long as his arm.
Beside him knelt their father.
Both were smiling.
Daniel turned the photograph over.
Written on the back were the words:
My Danny, who always knows how to make a broken thing work again.
Gabriel wrapped an arm around him.
Neither brother spoke.
Then Mercer opened the leather ledger.
His expression changed.
“Gabriel.”
Gabriel turned.
“What?”
Mercer flipped through several pages.
“These are handwritten transaction records.”
He stopped at one entry.
His face went pale.
“Your father was tracking the missing money.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
Mercer pointed to a name.
Richard Vale.
Beside it was a series of dates and amounts.
Then another name.
Victoria Langford.
Gabriel's jaw tightened.
But it was the third name that made him stop breathing.
Daniel looked over his shoulder.
“Who is that?”
Gabriel stared at the page.
Then whispered, “That's impossible.”
Mercer looked grim.
May you like
The third name was someone Gabriel had trusted since childhood.
Anthony Russo.
