Chapter 6 - THE MORNING AFTER THE STORM
Morning sunlight cut through the dusty blinds.
Rebecca hadn't slept a wink.
She sat at the kitchen table with the cast-iron skillet within arm's reach.
Leo was gone, chased out into the dawn with a strict warning never to return.
On the table lay her mother’s old leather-bound diary.
The one she had kept locked in a trunk since she was ten.
Rebecca broke the small brass clasp with a kitchen knife.
Yellowed pages fell open.
Entries written in frantic ink.
“March 12: Senior Costa found out I copied the shipping records. He killed David to send a message.”
“March 15: I fled to Chicago with baby Emma. If Roman ever finds us, he will think I stole the money.”
“The truth is in the safety deposit box at First National.”
Rebecca traced the faded handwriting with a trembling finger.
Her mother hadn't been a thief.
She had been an accountant who uncovered murder.
And Senior Costa—Roman’s father—had murdered David, the man Rebecca had thought was her uncle.
The door buzzer rang.
Once.
Twice.
Persistent.
Rebecca stood up, slipping her mother’s diary into her backpack.
She peeked through the door peephole.
Roman Costa stood in the hallway.
Alone.
May you like
Wearing a charcoal overcoat.
His gray eyes stared directly into the camera lens, as if he knew she was watching.
