Chapter 1 - The Call That Came at 9:17
“Get that disgusting thing out of here.”
Vanessa Bellini pointed toward the telephone in my hands.
It was an old cream-colored desk phone.
Heavy.
Scratched.
With a brass dial and a receiver that had yellowed over the years.
The cord was wrapped around the base.
And the small metal plate beneath the dial read:
LUCIA MORETTI.
I stood in the upstairs hallway, holding it carefully.
“Mrs. Bellini, are you sure Mr. Moretti doesn't want to keep it?”
Vanessa stopped.
Her red silk gown shimmered beneath the chandelier.
“Emma.”
“Yes, ma'am?”
“Did I ask for your opinion?”
“No.”
“Then take it to the dumpster.”
I looked down at the phone.
“It belonged to his mother.”
Vanessa laughed.
“Everything in this house belonged to his mother.”
She stepped closer.
“Luca is getting married. It's time to stop living in a museum.”
I swallowed.
“Yes, ma'am.”
“And don't let him see it.”
That was the part that bothered me.
Not the order to throw it away.
The secrecy.
My name is Emma Sullivan.
I was twenty-eight years old and had worked at Luca Moretti's Chicago mansion for nine months.
I knew very little about his mother.
Lucia Moretti had died twenty-two years earlier.
Luca had been sixteen.
Nobody spoke about her.
Not Mrs. Carter.
Not the security guards.
Not even Luca's younger sister Isabella.
But every October seventeenth, Luca left the house before sunrise and returned after dark.
And every year, he placed one white rose beneath the portrait of a woman who looked exactly like him.
That was all I knew.
Three hours before the engagement dinner, Vanessa had called me into the old west bedroom.
The room had been locked for years.
Now its doors stood open.
Two movers were carrying boxes toward the service staircase.
Vanessa pointed toward a wooden desk.
“Everything on that side goes.”
I nodded.
Then I noticed the telephone.
It sat beside a silver picture frame.
The photograph inside showed a young Luca standing between his parents.
He couldn't have been older than ten.
His mother was smiling.
His father wasn't.
I picked up the phone.
The receiver felt strangely warm.
I frowned.
There was no wall cord connected.
Only the coiled receiver cord.
I turned it over.
A small rectangular panel had been added beneath the base.
Newer plastic.
Tiny screws.
A faint green light.
Before I could examine it, Vanessa appeared behind me.
“What are you doing?”
I straightened.
“Moving the phone.”
She looked at the base.
Her face changed.
“Did you press anything?”
“No, ma'am.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
For several seconds, she stared at me.
Then she smiled.
“Good.”
She took the photograph from the desk.
Slipped it into a box.
Then pointed toward the phone.
“Throw it away.”
I nodded.
But instead of carrying it outside, I placed it in the laundry-room cabinet.
I told myself I'd ask Mrs. Carter what to do with it later.
That should have been the end of it.
It wasn't.
At eight fifty-two that evening, I was arranging champagne glasses in the dining room when Vanessa approached.
“Emma.”
“Yes, ma'am?”
“Did you dispose of the telephone?”
I hesitated.
“Yes.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“Where?”
“The service trash.”
“Which bin?”
My stomach tightened.
She smiled.
“You didn't.”
I lowered my eyes.
“No, ma'am.”
Her expression changed.
“Where is it?”
“In the laundry room.”
For a moment, she looked frightened.
Then she grabbed my wrist.
Hard.
“You stupid girl.”
I winced.
“I'm sorry.”
“Do you have any idea what you've done?”
I stared at her.
“It's just a telephone.”
Her face went pale.
Then she released me.
“Bring it to the dining room.”
I blinked.
“Ma'am?”
“If you insist on keeping Luca's dead mother's garbage, let him see what kind of employee he hired.”
She straightened my apron.
“And afterward, you can explain why you disobeyed me.”
I understood.
She wasn't giving in.
She was setting me up.
Ten minutes later, I walked into the dining room carrying Lucia Moretti's telephone.
Forty guests slowly stopped talking.
Luca sat at the head of the table.
Black suit.
Open collar.
One tattooed hand resting beside his wineglass.
Vanessa stood beside him.
“There she is.”
Her voice was loud enough for everyone.
“Our housekeeper has apparently decided tonight is the perfect time to bring old junk to the dinner table.”
Several guests shifted uncomfortably.
I felt my face burn.
Luca looked at the telephone.
Then at me.
“What is that?”
Before I could answer, Vanessa laughed.
“Some old thing she found upstairs.”
Luca's eyes narrowed.
“Where upstairs?”
Vanessa answered.
“Storage.”
I looked at her.
That wasn't true.
Luca noticed.
“Emma.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Where did you find it?”
I swallowed.
“Your mother's bedroom.”
The dining room went completely still.
Luca slowly turned toward Vanessa.
“My mother's room?”
She sighed.
“Darling, I was clearing old clutter.”
“That room is locked.”
“I had the staff open it.”
Luca's expression didn't change.
“Which staff?”
Vanessa hesitated.
“Emma.”
I shook my head.
“No, sir.”
Luca looked at me.
“Who opened it?”
“It was already open when I arrived.”
Silence.
Luca stood.
“Bring me the phone.”
I carried it toward him.
He took it carefully.
His fingers moved over the brass dial.
Then stopped.
“My mother used this every night.”
His voice sounded different.
Younger.
“She used to call my grandmother after dinner.”
He turned the phone over.
His expression changed.
“What is this?”
He pointed toward the small plastic panel.
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Probably a repair.”
Luca looked at her.
“When?”
“I don't know.”
He examined the green light.
Then the telephone rang.
A sharp metallic sound.
Everyone froze.
The phone wasn't connected to a wall.
There was no visible telephone line.
Yet it rang again.
Luca stared at it.
Vanessa went completely white.
“Don't answer that.”
Her voice was barely audible.
Luca slowly looked at her.
“What?”
She forced a laugh.
“It's probably some electronic trick.”
The phone rang a third time.
Luca lifted the receiver.
“Hello?”
Static.
Then a woman's voice.
Faint.
Shaking.
“Luchino?”
Luca stopped breathing.
His face changed completely.
Nobody moved.
The woman repeated:
“Luchino... is that you?”
Luca gripped the receiver.
Only one person had ever called him that.
His mother.
He whispered:
“Who is this?”
The woman began crying.
“Oh, my beautiful boy.”
Vanessa stepped backward.
Luca's eyes widened.
“Mom?”
The line crackled.
Then the woman whispered:
“Don't say my name.”
Luca stared at the receiver.
“Where are you?”
“Listen carefully.”
His hand trembled.
“Mom, where are you?”
A pause.
Then:
“Is Vanessa Bellini in the room?”
Luca slowly raised his eyes.
Vanessa stood motionless beside the table.
He whispered:
“Yes.”
The woman inhaled sharply.
“Then don't trust anyone standing near her.”
The line went dead.
Luca remained still.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he slowly lowered the receiver.
Vanessa laughed nervously.
“Luca, that was obviously a recording.”
He looked at her.
“How do you know?”
She blinked.
“What?”
“You said it was a recording.”
“Because your mother is dead.”
Luca stared.
Then he looked at Daniel, his head of security.
“Find out how this phone works.”
Daniel nodded.
“Yes, boss.”
He examined the base.
Then carefully removed the plastic panel.
Inside was a modern wireless receiver.
A battery.
A small circuit board.
And a SIM card.
Daniel looked up.
“Boss, this phone can receive cellular calls.”
Luca's expression hardened.
“Who installed it?”
Daniel shook his head.
“We'll trace the number.”
Vanessa immediately stepped forward.
“You can't.”
Everyone turned.
Luca looked at her.
“What?”
She swallowed.
“I mean, whoever did this is clearly trying to upset you.”
He stared at her.
“Then I want to know who.”
She said nothing.
Daniel removed the SIM card.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His expression changed.
“Boss.”
Luca looked up.
“What?”
“The number that called the phone is registered to a private medical facility.”
Luca went completely still.
“Where?”
Daniel hesitated.
“Outside Milwaukee.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
Luca stared at her.
“Vanessa.”
She shook her head.
“Please.”
“What medical facility?”
Daniel answered.
“St. Catherine's.”
The room went silent.
Luca looked at Vanessa.
“Why does that name frighten you?”
She whispered:
“Because your mother was never supposed to have access to a telephone.”
Luca's expression hardened.
“What did you just say?”
May you like
Vanessa began crying.
And then the phone rang again."
