Chapter 5 - THE SILVER BRACELET
The handcuffs clicked coldly around my wrists.
I stood in the center of the foyer, completely paralyzed.
“Kidnapping?” Luca stepped forward, his voice a lethal low register. “Take those off her right now.”
The detective smirked.
“Back off, Moretti. We have a signed statement and eyewitness testimony.”
“From who?”
“Vanessa Bellini.”
My stomach dropped.
Vanessa hadn’t just run. She had gone to the police. She had framed me to cover her tracks.
“She claims your housekeeper discovered the boy’s location, assaulted her, and took the child for ransom,” the detective said, reading from the folder.
He looked at me with disgust.
“We found your fingerprints all over the child’s bedroom in the West Addison house twenty minutes ago.”
Of course they did.
I had picked up the drawing. I had touched the photograph. I had searched the room while Luca held the gun.
Vanessa knew I was there.
She used it.
“She’s lying,” I said, my voice shaking. “She’s the one who hid the boy! She’s working with Dominic!”
The detective ignored me. He grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the door.
“Wait,” Luca said.
He didn’t yell. He didn’t reach for a weapon.
He simply stood in the center of his foyer, radiating an absolute, terrifying authority.
He looked at the detective.
“What is your name?” Luca asked softly.
The detective frowned. “Detective Miller.”
“Miller,” Luca repeated, tasting the name. “Your daughter goes to St. Jude’s Academy. Your wife runs a bakery on 5th Avenue. You have a mortgage that is three months past due.”
The detective went pale.
The SWAT officers nervously shifted their rifles.
“Are you threatening a police officer, Moretti?” Miller asked, his voice losing its arrogance.
“I’m making an observation,” Luca said smoothly. “You work for Dominic. You’re on his payroll. And he sent you here to stall me so he can finish what he started at Pier 44.”
Miller didn’t answer.
Luca reached into his jacket pocket.
The SWAT team tensed, fingers tightening on their triggers.
But Luca didn’t pull out a gun.
He pulled out a small, silver charm bracelet.
It caught the light of the chandelier.
I recognized it immediately.
I had seen it in old photographs around the house. It belonged to Luca’s mother. The mother who had died when he was young.
Luca tossed the bracelet onto the floor at Miller’s feet.
“Pick it up,” Luca ordered.
Miller stared at it, confused. “What is this?”
“It’s a down payment,” Luca said.
Miller frowned. “For what?”
“Your mortgage. Your daughter’s tuition. Your life.”
Luca stepped closer, completely ignoring the rifles pointed at his chest.
“That bracelet is worth three hundred thousand dollars. Take it. Walk out that door. And forget you were ever here.”
Miller looked at the bracelet.
Then at Luca.
“And if I don’t?”
Luca’s eyes went pitch black.
“Then my men will find your wife’s bakery. And they won’t be bringing flowers.”
The silence in the foyer was deafening.
I held my breath.
Miller looked at the SWAT team. They were all young. Sweating. Terrified of the man standing in front of them.
Slowly, Miller reached down and picked up the silver bracelet.
He slipped it into his pocket.
Without a word, he reached over and unlocked my handcuffs.
The metal cuffs hit the marble floor with a sharp clatter.
“Let’s go,” Miller barked to his men.
They backed out of the mansion, pulling the doors shut behind them.
I rubbed my bruised wrists, shaking uncontrollably.
Luca was at my side in a second, his large hands gently gripping my arms.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his eyes scanning my face.
“No,” I whispered. “But Vanessa… she gave Dominic the boy.”
“I know.”
“Why would she frame me?”
“To keep me busy,” Luca said, his jaw tight. “If I’m bailing you out of jail, I’m not kicking in the doors at Pier 44.”
He turned to Sal.
“Get the cars. All of them.”
Sal nodded and ran toward the garage.
But before he could even reach the doors, a deafening explosion shook the mansion.
The glass windows in the foyer shattered inward, raining shards across the marble floor.
Luca grabbed me, tackling me to the ground, shielding my body with his own as the shockwave rolled over us.
Thick black smoke billowed from the hallway leading to the garage.
“Sal!” Luca roared, scrambling to his feet.
He sprinted down the smoke-filled hallway.
I followed, coughing, my eyes burning.
The door to the garage was blown off its hinges.
Inside, one of the black SUVs was completely engulfed in flames.
Laying on the concrete floor, ten feet away from the burning car, was Sal.
His dark driving coat was torn and scorched.
He wasn’t moving.
Luca dropped to his knees, pressing his hands to the old man’s neck.
“He’s got a pulse!” Luca yelled over the roar of the fire.
I ran to them, helping Luca drag Sal away from the flames and out onto the driveway in the pouring rain.
Sal groaned, his eyes fluttering open.
“Mr. Moretti…” Sal coughed, blood staining his lips.
“Don’t speak, Sal. I’ve got you.”
Sal weakly reached up, his trembling fingers grabbing the lapel of Luca’s jacket.
“In my pocket,” Sal rasped.
Luca reached into Sal’s torn driving coat.
He pulled out a heavy, blood-stained piece of metal.
It was a hotel room key.
Brass. Old-fashioned.
May you like
Stamped with the number 402.
“He’s not at the pier,” Sal whispered, closing his eyes. “He’s at the Palmer House.”
