Chapter 5 - Ghosts Do Not Stay BuriedClara did not sleep.
At four in the morning, she sat alone on the floor of Dominic’s private gym with her back against the boxing ring.
The photograph Adrian Vale had left Arthur rested beside her.
Her father smiled from the image.
Daniel Hayes had always smiled easily.
That was what Clara remembered most.
Even after her mother died.
Even when money disappeared.
Even when Arthur needed surgery they could not afford.
Daniel had possessed the irritating ability to make desperation seem temporary.
He taught Clara to box when she was twelve.
Not because he wanted her to fight.
Because she had returned from school with a split lip after punching a boy twice her size.
“You are going to fight anyway,” he had said. “You might as well learn to do it properly.”
Clara had believed she understood her father.
Now every memory contained a second shadow.
Bookmaker.
Castellano associate.
Informant.
Target.
Possibly alive.
The gym door opened.
Dominic entered wearing black training pants and a gray shirt.
He stopped when he saw her.
“You should rest.”
“You should stop telling me what to do.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
Dominic approached slowly.
Clara looked at the heavy bag hanging across the room.
“Tell me everything.”
“I told you everything I know.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You told me enough to stop me from leaving the vehicle.”
Dominic leaned against the ring post.
Clara continued.
“You knew my father.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he survived the warehouse.”
“Yes.”
“You knew his body was never found.”
“Yes.”
“And you looked at my employee file when you investigated me after the fight.”
“Yes.”
“So you knew who I was before Rosetti found me.”
Dominic said nothing.
That was answer enough.
Clara stood.
“How long?”
“The morning after our fight.”
Her fists tightened.
“You knew.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my father was Daniel Hayes and said nothing.”
“I was not certain how much you knew.”
“You could have asked.”
“I should have.”
“You investigated me instead.”
“Yes.”
Clara walked toward him.
“You arrogant bastard.”
“I have been called worse.”
She punched him.
Not in the face.
Her fist struck his chest.
Dominic absorbed it without moving.
She struck him again.
“You knew.”
Another punch.
“You knew.”
Dominic caught her wrist after the fourth.
Clara twisted free automatically.
“Do not touch me.”
He released her.
Anger burned through her.
“You kissed me knowing my father may have died because of your family.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“My family is not me.”
“Convenient.”
“I was nineteen.”
“And my father trusted you.”
“Yes.”
“Did you deserve it?”
Dominic did not answer quickly enough.
Clara laughed without humor.
“That is what I thought.”
She walked away.
Dominic’s voice followed her.
“I spent seven years trying to learn what happened to him.”
Clara stopped.
“What?”
“I did not forget Daniel.”
She turned.
Dominic approached.
“My father considered compassion weakness. Daniel was one of the first men who taught me otherwise.”
“Yet you became this.”
She gestured around the penthouse.
The empire.
The violence.
The fear.
Dominic accepted the insult.
“Maybe I learned badly.”
Clara said nothing.
“I searched Pittsburgh. Philadelphia. New York. Canada.”
“Why did you stop?”
“I did not.”
He walked toward a locked cabinet and entered a code.
Inside were folders.
Dozens.
He removed a thick black file.
DANIEL HAYES was written across the front.
Clara stared.
Dominic placed it on a bench.
She opened it.
Police reports.
Photographs.
Bank transfers.
Hospital records.
Private investigator notes.
False names.
Passport applications.
One page contained a surveillance image of a thin man entering a train station in Montreal.
Clara’s fingers froze.
The picture was blurry.
The man’s face was partially hidden.
But his posture—
She knew it.
“When?”
“Five years ago.”
“You think that is him?”
“I think it might be.”
“Why did you never find him?”
“The man used a Canadian passport under the name David Hale.”
Clara turned the page.
Another photograph.
This one from Brussels.
Four years ago.
Then Buenos Aires.
Three years ago.
Clara looked at Dominic.
“You have been following him.”
“Trying to.”
“Why?”
“Because I promised him.”
Her throat tightened.
“What was the last trace?”
Dominic removed a page from the back.
“A bank transaction eleven months ago.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
Clara stared at him.
Her father might have returned.
Before she could speak, Dominic’s phone rang.
He checked the screen.
His expression changed.
“Marco.”
He answered.
“What?”
Clara watched him listen.
Dominic’s entire body became still.
“When?”
Another pause.
“Lock the facility down. No one enters or leaves.”
Clara’s heartbeat surged.
“What happened?”
Dominic ended the call.
“Arthur.”
Everything inside her went cold.
She grabbed Dominic by the shirt.
“What happened to Arthur?”
“He is alive.”
“Where?”
“The facility.”
“Then what?”
“Someone tried to enter his room twenty minutes ago using forged medical credentials.”
Clara released him.
“Vale.”
“Probably.”
“I am going there.”
“So am I.”
“I do not need—”
“This is not a debate.”
For once, Clara did not argue.
They reached Evanston in nineteen minutes.
Dominic’s security had already surrounded the facility.
Two men controlled the lobby.
Another guarded the elevators.
Marco waited outside Arthur’s room.
His expression was grim.
“We caught one.”
“Alive?” Dominic asked.
“Yes.”
Clara entered Arthur’s room.
He was sitting upright in bed.
Two nurses stood nearby.
Arthur looked irritated rather than frightened.
“Apparently I am important now.”
Clara crossed the room and hugged him.
He froze.
She rarely showed fear around him.
“Hey.”
“I am fine.”
“Did they touch you?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“A doctor came in.”
“He was not a doctor,” Marco said from the doorway.
Arthur continued.
“He asked the nurse to leave. Then he checked my IV.”
Clara looked at the line running into his arm.
“What did he do?”
“Nothing. One of Dominic’s guys came in.”
Arthur glanced toward Dominic.
“So I assume I should know why a mafia army is standing in the rehabilitation wing.”
Clara closed her eyes.
Dominic stepped inside.
Arthur studied him.
“You are Castellano.”
“Yes.”
“The guy my sister fought?”
Dominic looked at Clara.
“She told you?”
“No. Nurses gossip.”
Arthur smiled.
“You really lost to her?”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
Clara almost laughed despite everything.
“It was a tactical misunderstanding.”
Arthur nodded solemnly.
“Sure.”
Marco looked away to hide a smile.
Dominic addressed Clara.
“We need to move him.”
“No.”
Arthur spoke first.
Everyone looked at him.
“I am not being moved like luggage without someone explaining what the hell is happening.”
Clara sat beside him.
She had protected Arthur through lies for years.
Those lies had nearly allowed someone to poison him.
It was over.
She told him everything.
Rosetti.
The fixed fight.
The two million dollars.
Chicago.
Dominic.
Vale.
Their father.
Arthur listened without interrupting.
When she finished, the room remained silent.
Finally he looked at Clara.
“You did all of that for me?”
She swallowed.
“Mostly.”
Arthur shook his head.
“You are an idiot.”
“I know.”
“A terrifying idiot.”
“I know.”
He reached for her hand.
“You should have told me.”
“Yes.”
“Dad might be alive?”
Clara looked at Dominic.
“We do not know.”
Arthur stared toward the window.
For several seconds he seemed fourteen years old again.
Then his expression hardened.
“So where are we going?”
Dominic answered.
“My home.”
Arthur laughed.
“You are moving me into a mafia boss’s penthouse?”
“It has excellent accessibility.”
Clara stared at Dominic.
“You renovated?”
“I own the entire floor beneath mine.”
“You prepared this?”
“When Vale visited him yesterday, yes.”
Arthur looked impressed.
“I like him.”
“Do not encourage him,” Clara said.
Three hours later, Arthur was transferred under armed escort.
The captured intruder was taken elsewhere.
Clara did not ask where.
She already knew.
Dominic’s penthouse became a fortress before nightfall.
Bullet-resistant shutters.
Additional guards.
Restricted elevator access.
Arthur settled into a large guest suite with medical equipment supplied by a private clinic.
Clara stood outside his door after he fell asleep.
Dominic approached.
“We identified the man who entered his room.”
“Who?”
“Former military contractor.”
“Vale?”
“His employer was a subsidiary controlled by Vale.”
Clara crossed her arms.
“What was in the syringe?”
“Potassium chloride.”
Her stomach tightened.
Enough could stop the heart and imitate certain natural complications if administered correctly.
Arthur had been minutes from death.
Clara looked toward Dominic.
“Where is the man now?”
“Talking.”
“Voluntarily?”
“No.”
She should have objected.
She did not.
“What did he say?”
“Vale wants you.”
“Why?”
“He does not know.”
“Then find out.”
“I intend to.”
Clara began walking toward the private gym.
Dominic followed.
“What are you doing?”
“Training.”
“For what?”
She entered the gym and removed her sweatshirt.
“For whatever comes next.”
Clara wrapped her hands.
Dominic watched.
“You cannot punch Adrian Vale until he disappears.”
“No.”
She tightened the wrap around her wrist.
“But I can make sure that when he sends someone through that door, they regret accepting the job.”
For the next hour, she attacked the heavy bag.
Jab.
Cross.
Hook.
Pivot.
Body shot.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Dominic stood near the ropes.
Eventually Clara stopped.
Sweat ran down her face.
“Fight me.”
Dominic raised an eyebrow.
“You are angry.”
“Yes.”
“That seems unwise.”
“You wanted an equal.”
She lifted her gloves.
“Get in the ring.”
Dominic smiled.
Twenty minutes later, both were bruised.
Neither had won.
Clara sat against the ropes breathing hard.
Dominic sat beside her.
Their shoulders touched.
“You could have told me,” she said.
“I know.”
“About my father.”
“I know.”
“If you hide something like that again, I leave.”
Dominic looked at her.
“I understand.”
“I mean it.”
“So do I.”
Clara rested her head against the corner pad.
“Why did Vale try to kill Arthur instead of me?”
Dominic’s expression changed.
“That bothers me too.”
“He wants me unstable.”
“Perhaps.”
“No.”
Clara looked at him.
“If he wanted me emotional, he could threaten Arthur. Killing him removes leverage.”
Dominic considered the point.
“You think Arthur knows something.”
“He may not know that he knows it.”
“About Daniel?”
“Maybe.”
Dominic stood.
“We should search everything transferred from Philadelphia.”
Arthur’s belongings included three boxes Clara had stored for years.
Clothing.
Photographs.
Legal records.
Several notebooks belonging to their father.
At two in the morning, Clara and Dominic opened the final box.
Inside was Daniel’s old boxing equipment.
Hand wraps.
Coaching pads.
A leather speed-bag platform bracket.
Arthur watched from the sofa.
“That thing came from Dad’s gym.”
Clara lifted the bracket.
It was heavier than she remembered.
Something moved inside.
She and Dominic exchanged a look.
Dominic took a screwdriver from a drawer.
They removed the rear plate.
A small flash drive fell onto the table.
No one spoke.
Clara picked it up.
Arthur whispered, “Dad hid that?”
Dominic stared at the drive.
“Yes.”
Clara inserted it into an isolated laptop.
One folder appeared.
HAYES INSURANCE.
It required a password.
Arthur leaned closer.
“What would Dad use?”
Clara thought.
Birthdays.
Names.
Boxing.
Then she remembered something Daniel always said before she entered a ring.
Hands high. Eyes open.
She typed:
EYESOPEN.
The folder unlocked.
Hundreds of documents appeared.
Financial records.
Photographs.
Audio files.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Dominic became pale.
“What?”
Clara looked at him.
“What is it?”
He pointed toward one file.
VINCENT CASTELLANO - ADRIAN VALE - FEDERAL ARRANGEMENT.
Clara opened it.
The first scanned page contained signatures.
The second contained payment schedules.
The third contained photographs of meetings.
Arthur stared at Dominic.
“What does it mean?”
Dominic’s voice was almost a whisper.
“It means our fathers were not simply working for criminals.”
He looked at Clara.
“They were documenting a network that reached into federal law enforcement.”
Clara stared at the screen.
Then another file appeared beneath it.
A video.
DANIEL_FINAL_MESSAGE.
Her fingers began trembling.
She pressed play.
The screen turned black.
Then Daniel Hayes appeared.
Older than she remembered.
Injured.
Alive.
He looked directly into the camera.
“If Clara or Arthur is watching this,” he said, “then Adrian Vale finally found you.”
Clara stopped breathing.
Her father continued.
“And if Dominic Castellano is with you…”
Daniel smiled weakly.
“…tell that arrogant kid he still drops his right hand when he jabs.”
Dominic sat down.
For the first time since Clara had met him, the ruler of Chicago looked completely shaken.
Daniel leaned toward the camera.
“Listen carefully. Vale does not want money.”
May you like
His expression became deadly serious.
“He wants Chicago.”
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