Chapter 5 - [THE ROSARY ON THE KITCHEN TABLE]
The phone slipped from my fingers.
Before it could hit the floor, Luca caught it.
He didn’t bring it to his ear. He put it on speaker.
“Richard,” Luca said. His voice was no longer a threat. It was a promise of violence.
A dry chuckle echoed from the speaker. “Luca. I should have known you’d be standing right next to her. Always playing the hero.”
“If you touch a single hair on her mother’s head, you won’t live to see the sunrise. I will dismantle you piece by piece.”
“Save the dramatics,” Richard sighed. “I don’t want the old woman. I want what Thomas Sullivan stole from me fifteen years ago. Emma has the key. Bring it to the house. Alone. Twenty minutes.”
The line went dead.
I couldn’t breathe. The walls of the office felt like they were closing in.
“My mom,” I choked out. “He has my mom.”
Katie let out a sob, burying her face in her hands.
Luca grabbed my shoulders. His grip was firm, grounding me in the present.
“Look at me, Emma.”
I forced myself to meet his eyes.
“I am not going to let him hurt her,” Luca said. “Do you understand me? My men are already moving. We are going to get her back.”
He turned to the door. “Marco!”
The door opened instantly.
“Take Katie to the penthouse downtown,” Luca ordered. “Put three men on the door. Nobody gets in.”
“What about you, Boss?”
“I’m going to the suburbs. Get the armored SUV.”
Ten minutes later, we were tearing down the I-90 expressway. The rain was coming down in sheets, blurring the streetlights into streaks of yellow and red.
I sat in the passenger seat, my hands shaking so violently I had to sit on them.
“Why does Richard care about a key my father hid?” I asked, my voice barely audible over the roaring engine.
Luca kept his eyes on the wet road. “Because whatever is in that lockbox at the church proves what really happened the night Clara died.”
“But Vanessa said my father took a bribe.”
“Vanessa is a liar,” Luca said flatly. “If your father took a bribe, you wouldn’t be working as a maid to pay off a mortgage. Thomas Sullivan didn’t run because he was guilty, Emma. He ran because he was terrified.”
We skidded onto my mother’s street. It was a quiet, working-class neighborhood. Small lawns, porch lights.
It looked completely normal.
Luca parked three houses down and turned off the headlights.
He pulled a sleek black handgun from his shoulder holster, checking the chamber.
My breath hitched. I had known Luca was a powerful man, but seeing the weapon made the danger violently real.
“Stay behind me,” he ordered.
We moved through the rain, creeping up the driveway. The front door was slightly ajar.
Luca pushed it open with his foot.
“Mom?” I whispered.
The living room was empty. A lamp was overturned.
We moved toward the kitchen. The smell of boiling water filled the air. The kettle was whistling loudly on the stove.
Luca stepped into the kitchen first, sweeping the room with his weapon.
“Clear,” he said softly.
I rushed in.
The kitchen was empty. Richard was gone.
And so was my mother.
“Mom!” I screamed, tearing through the back door into the small yard. Empty.
I collapsed against the kitchen counter, sobbing. “He took her. Oh god, he took her.”
Luca turned off the screaming kettle.
He stood perfectly still, looking down at the small wooden kitchen table.
“Emma,” he said quietly. “Look at this.”
I wiped my eyes and walked over.
Lying in the center of the table was my mother’s wooden rosary. She never took it off. Never.
But it wasn’t just lying there.
It was wrapped tightly around a piece of folded paper.
I recognized the paper instantly. It was a withdrawal receipt from the local bank.
I untangled the rosary and opened the receipt.
On the back, written in my mother’s hurried, shaky handwriting, was a message.
He thinks I don’t know. He thinks Thomas never told me.
St. Jude’s Lockbox 402.
Take the key. Get to the church before him.
I love you.
Underneath the message was a secondary note, scribbled so hastily the pen had torn the paper.
Luca Moretti:
Your sister didn’t drown.
She was murdered.
Luca stared at the note. All the color drained from his face.
Then, the floorboards in the hallway creaked.
Someone was still in the house.
Luca shoved me behind him, raising his gun toward the kitchen doorway.
A figure stepped out of the shadows.
It wasn’t Richard.
It was Marco. Luca’s trusted bodyguard.
“Boss,” Marco said, holding his hands up slowly. “I found the old lady. She’s in the trunk of my car.”
I let out a gasp of relief and started to run forward.
Luca threw his arm out, stopping me dead in my tracks.
“Marco,” Luca said. His voice was entirely devoid of emotion. “I told you to take Katie to the penthouse.”
Marco didn’t answer.
He slowly lowered his hands.
And then, he pulled his own gun, pointing it directly at Luca’s chest.
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“I’m sorry, Boss,” Marco said. “But Vanessa pays much better than you do.”
TITLE: THE PRICE OF LOYALTY
