Chapter 13 - THE WOMAN THEY COULDN'T SILENCE|
Mrs. Carter woke to the smell of old wood and cold coffee.
Her wrists ached.
Her head felt heavy.
And somewhere nearby, water dripped into a metal bucket.
She opened her eyes.
A bare bulb hung from the ceiling.
The walls were brick.
A narrow window sat high above the floor.
She was sitting on a wooden chair.
But this time, her hands were not tied.
That frightened her more than the restraints had.
A man stood near the doorway.
Marcus Bellini.
Salvatore's nephew.
He turned when she moved.
"Good morning, Margaret."
Mrs. Carter stared at him.
"Where am I?"
"Somewhere safe."
She gave a bitter laugh.
"Men like you have a strange understanding of safety."
Marcus ignored the remark.
"Are you thirsty?"
She shook her head.
"I want to go home."
"That depends."
"On what?"
He placed a photograph on the table.
Anthony Vale.
Standing beside the lighthouse.
Mrs. Carter looked down.
Her breath caught.
"He's alive."
Marcus watched her.
"You didn't know?"
She shook her head.
"I hoped."
Marcus leaned closer.
"Then you understand why my uncle needs your help."
Mrs. Carter lifted her chin.
"I won't help Salvatore."
Marcus smiled.
"You haven't heard what we want."
"I don't need to."
He sighed.
"Margaret, you're seventy years old."
"And?"
"Wouldn't you rather spend the years you have left somewhere peaceful?"
She stared at him.
"I was peaceful until your family came into my home."
Marcus's expression hardened.
He pulled out another photograph.
This one showed Olivia leaving the hospital.
Mrs. Carter's face changed.
Marcus noticed.
"She's a nice girl."
Mrs. Carter remained silent.
"Hardworking."
He tilted his head.
"Very loyal."
"Leave her alone."
Marcus smiled.
"Then tell us what Giovanni hid."
Mrs. Carter shook her head.
"I don't know."
He leaned closer.
"Don't insult me."
She looked directly at him.
"I know what Giovanni wanted me to know."
"And what was that?"
"That Luca deserved to live."
Marcus struck the table.
Mrs. Carter flinched.
But she didn't lower her eyes.
For a moment, Marcus looked furious.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
"Yes?"
He listened.
His expression changed.
"The police?"
Mrs. Carter watched him.
Marcus turned away.
"No, I'm not moving her yet."
A pause.
"Because she's still useful."
He ended the call.
Then looked toward the elderly woman.
"Your boy is making this difficult."
Mrs. Carter's eyes filled.
"He's always been stubborn."
Marcus frowned.
She gave a small smile.
"He got that from his mother."
For a moment, Marcus seemed unsure how to respond.
Then he walked outside and locked the door.
Mrs. Carter sat alone.
Her heart was racing.
But beneath the fear was something stronger.
Anger.
She had spent decades protecting Luca.
Sometimes by telling the truth.
Sometimes by hiding it.
And now she understood how much damage silence had caused.
She looked around the room.
Near the wall stood an old desk.
A landline telephone sat on top.
The cord had been disconnected.
Beside it was a dusty radio.
Mrs. Carter slowly stood.
Her knees hurt.
But she crossed the room.
She examined the telephone.
Then the radio.
Neither seemed useful.
She looked toward the window.
Too high.
Then toward the door.
Locked.
She lowered herself onto the desk chair.
For several minutes, she listened.
Footsteps passed outside.
A truck engine started.
Then stopped.
Somewhere in the distance, a bell rang.
Mrs. Carter lifted her head.
A church bell.
She counted the chimes.
Eleven.
Then she heard another sound.
A train horn.
Her eyes narrowed.
There weren't many places in Chicago where an old industrial building stood close enough to both a church and active rail tracks.
She thought of Giovanni's properties.
The waterfront warehouses.
The storage buildings.
The abandoned print shop near St. Agnes Church.
Her breath caught.
She knew where she was.
The old print shop.
Giovanni had purchased it decades earlier.
It stood beside a freight rail line.
And it had been empty for years.
Mrs. Carter looked toward the telephone.
The cord had been removed.
But the radio had a battery compartment.
She opened it.
Two batteries remained inside.
The device was an old emergency weather radio.
She turned the knob.
Static filled the room.
Then a faint broadcast.
She smiled.
It worked.
But it couldn't transmit.
She sat back.
Then noticed a narrow strip of paper sticking out beneath the desk.
She bent down.
Her fingers closed around a folded sheet.
It was an old invoice.
At the top was the print shop's address.
Her heart began pounding.
If she could get the information outside, Luca could find her.
She looked toward the door.
Then at the water glass Marcus had left.
An idea formed.
When he returned, she would ask for something.
Not freedom.
Not mercy.
Something he might actually give her.
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Luca was flying back toward Chicago.
I sat across from him in the helicopter.
Anthony and Rebecca remained in Maine under police protection.
Daniel sat beside the pilot, coordinating with investigators.
Luca hadn't spoken for nearly twenty minutes.
He held Mrs. Carter's photograph in his hands.
I watched his face.
He looked exhausted.
And frightened.
I had never imagined Luca Moretti could look frightened.
But he did.
Finally, I spoke.
"She knows how to take care of herself."
He looked up.
"She's seventy."
"I know."
"She was injured."
"I know."
His voice broke.
"And I left her."
I leaned forward.
"You didn't abandon her."
He stared at me.
"Then what did I do?"
"You went to find your father."
His eyes filled.
"While someone took the woman who raised me."
I swallowed.
"Salvatore arranged that."
Luca looked away.
I continued.
"You can't take responsibility for every cruel decision someone else makes."
He stared at the photograph.
Then whispered:
"I promised I'd protect her."
I moved into the seat beside him.
"Then keep that promise now."
He looked at me.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then he nodded.
"I will."
His phone rang.
An unknown number.
He answered immediately.
"Hello?"
A man's voice spoke.
"Mr. Moretti?"
"Who is this?"
"My name is Thomas Reed."
Luca frowned.
"Do I know you?"
"No, sir."
"Then why are you calling?"
"I'm a delivery driver."
Luca straightened.
"Go on."
"I just left a warehouse on the South Side."
My heart began pounding.
"What warehouse?"
The driver gave an address.
Daniel immediately looked back.
Luca put the phone on speaker.
"Why are you calling me?"
The man hesitated.
"Because an elderly woman asked me to."
Luca stopped breathing.
"Margaret Carter?"
"I don't know her name."
"What did she say?"
"She told me to deliver a message."
Luca gripped the phone.
"What message?"
The driver swallowed.
"She said to tell Lu that the old printing press still works."
Mrs. Carter.
Nobody else called him Lu.
Luca closed his eyes.
"Did you see her?"
"Only for a moment."
"Was she hurt?"
"She looked tired."
Luca's jaw tightened.
"Where was she?"
"Inside the warehouse."
Daniel immediately contacted the police.
The driver continued.
"She handed me an envelope."
Luca frowned.
"What envelope?"
"She said it was for you."
"Where is it?"
"With me."
"Don't give it to anyone else."
"Yes, sir."
Luca swallowed.
"Thank you."
The driver hesitated.
"Mr. Moretti?"
"Yes?"
"She seemed very worried."
Luca closed his eyes.
"About what?"
The driver took a breath.
"She told me something strange."
"What?"
"She said the man who took her wasn't the one she was most afraid of."
Luca went completely still.
"Then who?"
The driver answered quietly.
"She said the woman in the red dress was coming."
I felt my stomach drop.
Vanessa.
Luca looked at me.
I looked back.
Neither needed to speak.
The woman who had tied Mrs. Carter to a chair had somehow returned to the center of everything.
May you like
And this time, she wasn't waiting for Luca to discover what she'd done.
She was coming to finish it.
