Chapter 7 - [THE TRUTH IN THE TABERNACLE]
“Call the penthouse,” Luca barked, slamming the SUV into gear.
I dialed the number with shaking fingers. It rang three times.
“Yeah, Boss?” a gruff voice answered. One of the guards.
“It’s Emma,” I said, panic rising in my throat. “Is Katie there? Is she safe?”
There was a pause. “Yeah, she’s in the guest room. Been quiet for twenty minutes. I’ll go check.”
I heard footsteps over the phone. A door opening.
Then, a string of violent curses.
“She’s gone,” the guard yelled. “The window’s open. The fire escape… damn it, Marco must have had someone waiting in the alley.”
I dropped the phone. It clattered against the center console.
“They have her,” I choked out. “Vanessa has my sister.”
Luca’s jaw was clamped so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. He pushed the accelerator to the floor, the heavy SUV hydroplaning slightly as we tore through the rain-slicked streets.
“We go to the church first,” my mother said from the backseat. Her voice was remarkably steady. “Richard won’t leave without what’s in that box. If you want Katie back, Emma, you need the one thing Richard is terrified of.”
Ten minutes later, St. Jude’s Catholic Church loomed out of the storm.
It was a massive, gothic stone building, dark and silent at this hour.
We ran up the stone steps. The heavy oak doors were locked.
Luca didn’t hesitate. He pulled his gun and shot the iron lock twice. The sound echoed like thunder in the empty street.
He kicked the door open.
Inside, the church was cavernous, smelling of old wax and incense. Only the red sanctuary lamp burned near the altar.
“Where are the lockboxes?” Luca asked.
“In the basement,” my mother said, leading the way. “The parish keeps a secure room for old records and donations.”
We hurried down a narrow stone staircase. At the bottom was a heavy steel door. My mother punched a four-digit code into the keypad. It clicked open.
The room was lined with hundreds of small metal drawers.
I walked down the rows, my heart hammering against my ribs.
399… 400… 401… 402.
I slid the small brass key into the lock. It turned with a heavy click.
I pulled the long metal drawer out.
Inside was a single, thick manila envelope.
I reached in and pulled it out. It felt heavy.
“Open it,” Luca said softly.
I peeled back the metal clasp and dumped the contents onto a nearby table.
Two things fell out.
The first was an old microcassette tape.
The second was a leather-bound diary.
I opened the diary. The handwriting wasn’t my father’s. It was delicate, looping, and feminine.
I looked at the name inscribed on the inside cover.
Clara Moretti.
Luca inhaled sharply. He reached out with a trembling hand and traced his sister’s name.
“Read the last entry,” my mother urged softly.
I flipped to the back of the book. The final page was dated August 14th—the day she died.
I read aloud, my voice echoing in the cold basement.
“He found out I’m leaving. Richard knows I have the proof of his embezzlement from my father’s company. He cornered me by the docks. He said if I show my father, he’ll kill Luca. He’s going to take me out on the boat tonight to ‘talk.’ I’m terrified. I gave my swallow bracelet to the gardener, Thomas, and told him to hide this diary. If I don’t come back, Thomas promises he’ll give it to the police.”
I stopped reading, my eyes filling with tears.
“Richard killed her,” Luca whispered. His voice broke. For the first time, the invincible mafia boss looked like a broken brother. “She was trying to protect me.”
“Your father tried to take it to the police, Luca,” my mother said gently. “But the police chief at the time was on Richard’s payroll. Thomas knew if he came forward, they’d kill him, and they’d come after Emma. So he hid the evidence, took his family, and vanished.”
“But how did Vanessa get involved?” I asked.
Luca’s eyes hardened. “Vanessa’s father was Richard’s partner. They needed Vanessa to marry me to control the company from the inside and make sure I never looked too deeply into the past. It was a long con.”
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
A text message.
It was from an unknown number.
It was a photo.
Katie. Tied to a chair inside a dimly lit airplane hangar, a piece of tape over her mouth. Standing behind her, holding a gun to her head, was Richard Vale.
Beneath the photo was a text:
Bring the diary to Palwaukee Airfield. Hangar 4. Come alone, Emma. Or she dies.
I showed the phone to Luca.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t curse.
He took his gun out, checked the magazine, and slid it back into his holster.
“Mrs. Sullivan, stay here in the church. Lock the door behind us.”
He turned to me, his dark eyes burning with a lethal fire.
“Are you ready to end this?” he asked.
I looked down at the diary. My father had sacrificed everything to keep this safe.
I grabbed the diary and the cassette tape.
May you like
“Let’s go.”
TITLE: THE DEVIL IN THE HANGAR
