Chapter 14 - THE GIRL ADRIAN NEVER TOLD HER ABOUT
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Grace looked like Adrian.
That was Elena's first thought.
Not the frightened Adrian from the hospital.
The Adrian from twenty years ago.
Before Marco.
Before collections.
Before lies hardened into personality.
The girl in the photograph had his mouth.
His dark eyebrows.
And the same expression Elena remembered from childhood whenever Adrian tried not to admit he was scared.
Seventeen years old.
Her niece.
Elena stared at the image.
“Where has she been?”
Helena sat at the safe-house table.
“Indiana mostly.”
“With her mother?”
“Yes.”
“Name?”
“Megan Walsh.”
“Why didn't Adrian tell me?”
“Because Marco didn't know.”
Dante stood near the wall studying the message metadata.
Elena turned toward Helena.
“So he hid an entire child.”
“He thought silence was protection.”
“That family philosophy is really working beautifully.”
Helena flinched.
Elena regretted the cruelty.
Not enough to apologize yet.
Dante looked up.
“Samuel wants the notebook.”
“Yes.”
“Which means he doesn't know we've copied it.”
Luca nodded.
“Digitized within an hour of recovery.”
Elena frowned.
“So give him the original.”
Dante looked at her.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he'll kill them anyway.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know Samuel.”
“So do you suggest we keep a notebook while my niece dies?”
Dante's expression hardened.
“No.”
“Then what?”
“We make Samuel believe the notebook is more valuable than Grace.”
Elena stared.
“That sentence makes me want to hit you.”
“It should.”
“Explain.”
Dante placed his phone on the table.
“Samuel isn't emotional.”
“He murdered a man.”
“Which doesn't contradict my point.”
Celeste, standing beside Luca, grimaced.
Dante continued.
“He doesn't kill unless it solves something.”
Elena looked at Grace's photograph.
“He's threatening a child.”
“To control Adrian.”
“And Adrian?”
“To control us.”
“So?”
“So Samuel wants Anthony's notebook intact because it contains evidence against people who may still be useful to him.”
Elena understood.
“Blackmail.”
“Yes.”
“If we destroy it—”
“He loses leverage.”
“And if he thinks we already gave copies to the FBI?”
“He kills Adrian because Adrian becomes unnecessary.”
Elena's stomach turned.
“Wonderful.”
Dante's voice softened.
“We need him believing the original matters.”
Helena whispered, “What about Grace?”
Dante looked at Luca.
“Location?”
“Message bounced through six servers. But photo metadata contained a temperature sensor signature.”
Elena blinked.
“A what?”
“Industrial security camera.”
“Meaning?”
“The image probably came from a refrigerated facility.”
Celeste leaned over his shoulder.
“Chicago has thousands.”
“Not with that model.”
Luca tapped.
“Mostly pharmaceutical warehouses and food distribution centers.”
Dante asked, “Connected to Samuel?”
“We're searching.”
Elena paced.
“Midnight is seven hours away.”
“No,” Luca said.
She stopped.
“What?”
“He wants us to think midnight is the deadline.”
Dante understood.
“He'll move before then.”
“Exactly.”
Elena looked between them.
“How much before?”
“Probably when we leave to make the exchange.”
“So the meeting point will be a distraction.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“No location yet.”
As if summoned, Elena's phone rang.
Unknown.
She answered.
“Hello?”
Adrian's voice.
“El.”
Her knees nearly gave.
“Adrian?”
“Elena, listen to me.”
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Grace?”
“She’s alive.”
His voice broke on the last word.
“Where are you?”
“I can't tell you.”
“Samuel there?”
Silence.
That was answer enough.
Adrian continued.
“He wants you to bring the notebook personally.”
Dante shook his head.
Elena ignored him.
“Where?”
“Old Fulton Cold Storage.”
Luca was already searching.
“Midnight.”
Adrian's breathing changed.
Then he said something strange.
“Do you remember Dad's blue station wagon?”
Elena frowned.
“What?”
“The summer we drove to Door County.”
Dante looked at her sharply.
Adrian continued.
“You threw up on the red blanket.”
Elena's heart kicked.
There had never been a red blanket.
It was green.
“What are you doing?”
Adrian spoke faster.
“Dad made us count the bridges.”
Elena remembered.
Three bridges.
Adrian had always hated bridges.
“Adrian—”
The line went dead.
Dante stepped closer.
“What was that?”
“A message.”
Luca looked up.
“What?”
“He got details wrong on purpose.”
“Which?”
“The blanket wasn't red.”
“What color?”
“Green.”
Dante stared.
“Green. Bridges.”
Celeste frowned.
“Green Bridge?”
Luca's fingers moved.
“There is a Green Bridge Road.”
“Where?”
“Near Morris.”
Elena shook her head.
“Too obvious.”
“What else?”
“Dad made us count bridges.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
Luca searched.
“Three bridges near a refrigerated warehouse.”
Celeste pointed.
“Tri-Bridge Cold Logistics.”
Luca looked up.
“Thirty-eight miles southwest.”
Dante was already moving.
They reached the facility at 8:41.
Not midnight.
Not Fulton.
Tri-Bridge sat between industrial fields and rail lines.
Security cameras circled the roof.
Luca's team cut power to two blocks.
Darkness swallowed the building.
They entered through a loading dock.
Elena had been ordered to remain in the vehicle.
She lasted four minutes.
By the time Dante discovered her behind Luca's second team, it was too late to argue.
He glared.
She whispered, “Later.”
His expression promised a spectacular later.
They found Adrian in an office.
Alone.
His hands zip-tied.
Blood on his lip.
He looked at Elena.
“Grace.”
“I know.”
“No, she's not here.”
Elena froze.
“What?”
“Samuel moved her.”
Dante cut the ties.
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
Adrian grabbed Elena's arm.
“It's not Samuel.”
She stared.
“What?”
“He isn't running this.”
Dante went still.
“Who is?”
Adrian looked terrified.
“Samuel said the plan changed when Marco got arrested.”
“Who changed it?”
“A woman.”
Elena's blood ran cold.
“What woman?”
“I never saw her face.”
Dante's expression sharpened.
Adrian continued.
“But Samuel called her Mrs. Caruso.”
Elena stopped breathing.
Helena.
“No.”
Adrian shook his head.
“Not Mom.”
“Then who?”
Before he could answer, the building lights exploded back on.
An alarm screamed.
Overhead speakers crackled.
A woman's voice filled the warehouse.
Older.
Cold.
Familiar to Dante.
“Well done.”
Dante's face turned white.
Elena looked at him.
“You know her.”
He stared toward the ceiling.
The voice continued.
“Anthony always said you were clever.”
Celeste entered behind them and froze.
“No.”
Dante whispered one word.
“Grandmother.”
Elena stared.
May you like
Dante's grandmother had been declared dead twelve years ago.
And apparently the Moretti family was no better at funerals than hers.
