Chapter 10 - THE MAN WHO LOST TWENTY YEARS OF HIS LIFE|
The first thing I noticed about Anthony Russo was how much he resembled my grandfather.
Not in his face or the color of his hair, but in the quiet way he carried his sadness.
He moved slowly.
He listened before speaking.
And when he smiled, his eyes looked as though they remembered a different world.
We met him inside an Illinois correctional facility several days after Sofia arranged the visit through his legal team.
Evelyn had explained the new evidence to his attorneys, and Anthony had agreed to speak with Luca.
He was sixty-one years old.
Twenty years earlier, he had been a hardworking delivery driver with a wife, a daughter, and plans to open a small trucking business.
Now his hair was almost completely gray.
When he entered the visiting room, Sofia stood so quickly that her chair scraped the floor.
"Papa."
Anthony smiled.
"Hello, sweetheart."
They embraced for a long time.
I watched Luca lower his head.
He had never been able to hug his father again after October 18, 2006.
But Anthony had been deprived of thousands of ordinary embraces with his daughter despite still being alive.
Eventually, Anthony looked toward Luca.
"You've got your father's eyes."
Luca's expression tightened.
"People tell me that."
"Frank used to say you were stubborn enough to argue with a brick wall."
"He was right."
Anthony smiled sadly.
"He usually was."
Luca sat across from him.
"For twenty years, I believed you murdered my father."
"I know."
"I never came to see you."
"I know that, too."
"I'm sorry."
Anthony studied him carefully.
"You're not the one who put me here."
"No," Luca said.
"But I could have asked more questions."
Sofia sat beside her father, holding his hand.
For a while, nobody spoke.
Then Anthony looked at the photograph we'd brought from my grandfather's workshop.
"Nathan kept this?"
"Yes," I answered.
"I'm his granddaughter."
His expression softened.
"Claire Bennett."
I nodded.
"Your grandfather talked about you whenever he wrote."
"He said you used to sit beside him while he fixed watches."
"He told me you believed everything broken could be repaired if someone cared enough."
Tears filled my eyes.
"That's what he taught me."
Anthony smiled.
"He was a good man."
Then Luca placed Frank's letter on the table.
"We need to know what happened the night my father died."
Anthony's smile vanished.
He looked down at his hands.
For several moments, I wondered whether he would refuse.
Then he began speaking.
"Frank discovered that Angelo Bellini had been using shell companies to manipulate the ownership of several businesses."
"Your father wasn't involved with those operations."
"He just happened to own a building Angelo wanted badly enough to commit fraud."
Luca listened without interrupting.
"Frank asked me to deliver copies of some documents to a lawyer outside Chicago."
"He didn't trust Martin Vale anymore."
"But before I could leave, somebody contacted me and said Sofia would be hurt if I made the delivery."
Sofia tightened her grip on his hand.
Anthony looked at her.
"I was terrified, sweetheart."
"I know, Papa."
He turned back toward us.
"Frank told me to come to the restaurant the following evening."
"He said he'd found a way to protect the evidence."
"When I arrived, I heard shouting near the rear entrance."
Anthony's breathing became uneven.
I could see the memory returning with terrible clarity.
"Frank was arguing with Victor Sloane."
"Victor told him the time for negotiating was over."
"Then I heard a gunshot."
Luca's face went pale.
"I ran toward them," Anthony continued.
"Frank was lying beside the delivery entrance."
"Victor disappeared into the alley."
"I knelt beside Frank and tried to stop the bleeding."
"He was still conscious for a few seconds."
Anthony closed his eyes.
"He told me to protect the girl."
"Then he said the papers were still where they belonged."
Rosa's words came rushing back to me.
The photograph.
The frightened girl.
The secret Frank had tried to protect.
"What girl?" I asked.
Anthony opened his eyes.
"The girl sitting inside Angelo Bellini's car."
"She'd watched the entire argument through the rear window."
"And she saw Victor shoot Frank."
Luca leaned forward.
"Who was she?"
Anthony looked directly at him.
"Vanessa Bellini."
The name seemed to suck the air from the room.
Luca stared at the older man as though he hadn't understood.
"My wife?"
"Your wife was sixteen years old that night."
"She was sitting in the back seat while her father waited nearby."
I felt a chill travel down my spine.
Vanessa had known what happened to Frank Moretti long before she married Luca.
She hadn't simply discovered the truth after our wedding.
She had carried it for twenty years.
Anthony continued.
"There was another witness."
"A young waitress named Elena Morales saw Victor leaving the alley."
"She tried to speak to the police."
"Five days later, she was killed in a hit-and-run."
I remembered Victor's threat to Maya.
The last girl who saw what happened hadn't lived long enough to testify.
He had been referring to Elena.
Luca gripped the edge of the table.
"And the police arrested you?"
"Before the ambulance even left."
"Someone claimed they found the murder weapon near my truck."
"Later, the detectives told me Sofia would die unless I cooperated."
Sofia began crying silently.
Anthony held her hand tighter.
"I thought confessing would keep her safe."
"And once I'd signed their statement, nobody wanted to hear anything else."
Luca looked at the man's worn prison uniform.
Then at the photograph of his father.
Finally, he spoke.
"I'm going to do everything I legally can to get you out of here."
Anthony shook his head.
"Don't make promises you can't keep."
"I'm not promising an outcome."
"I'm promising I won't turn away again."
For the first time, Anthony's expression changed.
He nodded slowly.
As our visit ended, he called me back.
"Claire, there's something you should know about your grandfather."
I turned.
"What?"
"The night Frank died, Nathan called me before the police took me away."
"He said he'd hidden something in the restaurant years earlier."
"And he told me that if the truth ever came out, the watch would lead someone home."
I thought about the copper key marked 418.
The hidden compartment in Grandpa's clock.
And the restaurant that Angelo Bellini had spent forty years trying to take.
Suddenly, I understood where the final evidence might be waiting.
But before we could leave the prison, Luca's phone rang.
It was Evelyn.
Her voice sounded urgent.
"Angelo Bellini has obtained authorization to begin interior demolition work at the old restaurant."
"The contractors are scheduled to arrive Saturday morning."
Luca looked at me.
May you like
Saturday was less than twenty-four hours away.
If Frank had hidden the original evidence inside that building, we were running out of time.
