Chapter 6 - Her Father DisappearsThe wheelchair sat beside Michael’s empty bed.
That was the detail that broke Tessa.
Not the open window.
Not the unconscious night guard.
Not the missing nurse.
The wheelchair.
Her father could walk perhaps six or seven steps with assistance on his best days.
Whoever had taken him had not even bothered to take the chair.
Tessa touched the worn leather armrest.
“Dad.”
Leo stood in the doorway.
He had gone frighteningly quiet.
The facility administrator babbled explanations behind him.
“The cameras lost power for nine minutes. We have backup systems, Mr. Santoro, but someone—”
“Nine minutes?”
“Yes.”
“How long to move Michael from this room?”
“With a gurney, perhaps three.”
“Elevator?”
“Service elevator.”
“Camera?”
“Disabled.”
Leo looked at Carlo.
“Find the vehicle.”
“Already working.”
Tessa noticed something beneath the bed.
A piece of paper.
She crouched.
“Tessa?”
Leo stepped forward.
She pulled out a folded napkin.
Her father’s handwriting was shaky but recognizable.
BLUE HOUSE.
Three words.
Tessa stared.
“What does that mean?” Leo asked.
“I don’t know.”
She turned the paper.
Nothing.
Then memory struck.
A blue house.
Summer.
Her mother driving.
Her father arguing with someone behind a closed door.
Tessa had been eight.
“Lake Mercer.”
Leo’s attention sharpened.
“What?”
“There was a vacation house near Lake Mercer. It belonged to one of Dad’s friends.”
“Name?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Russo?”
She closed her eyes.
A man giving her lemonade.
Silver hair darker then.
“Matteo.”
Leo cursed.
“Russo’s house?”
“Maybe.”
Carlo entered.
“We found Price’s car twelve miles west.”
“Body?”
“No driver. Blood inside.”
Tessa looked at Leo.
“What if Russo took him?”
“Then we find Russo.”
Matteo answered Leo’s call on the second attempt.
“I wondered when you’d call.”
“Do you have Michael?”
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
“I rarely do anything else.”
Leo’s voice became lethal.
“If you touched him—”
“Tessa is listening, I assume.”
She grabbed the phone.
“Where’s my father?”
Matteo’s tone changed.
“I don’t know.”
“Blue house.”
Silence.
Leo and Tessa exchanged a look.
Matteo spoke.
“Where did you hear that?”
“My father wrote it before someone kidnapped him.”
More silence.
Then Russo said, “Lake Mercer. North side. Old blue cottage at the end of Willow Road.”
“You own it?”
“Once.”
“Who owns it now?”
“A trust.”
“Whose?”
“Your mother’s.”
Tessa forgot how to breathe.
“My mother has been dead seventeen years.”
“The trust remains.”
“Why?”
“Tessa, there are things your parents never wanted you involved in.”
“That excuse is getting very old tonight.”
Matteo sighed.
“Go to the house. I’ll meet you there.”
Leo took the phone.
“No.”
“Then remain ignorant.”
The call ended.
Tessa turned.
“We’re going.”
Leo nodded.
No argument.
Lake Mercer was nearly ninety minutes away.
They arrived shortly before sunrise.
The cottage was exactly as Tessa remembered.
Faded blue wood.
White porch.
Pine trees surrounding a small lake silver beneath the dawn.
Matteo stood alone on the porch.
Leo approached with a gun.
Matteo looked at the sling.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
Tessa walked between them.
“Open the house.”
Matteo produced a key.
Inside, dust covered everything.
Furniture remained beneath sheets.
Tessa walked toward the kitchen.
A faded height chart remained on the doorframe.
TESSA — AGE 7.
TESSA — AGE 8.
Her eyes filled.
“We came here more than once.”
“Yes,” Matteo said.
“Why don’t I remember?”
“You were young.”
“Why was this house in Mom’s name?”
Matteo looked toward Leo.
“Because Evelyn Jenkins worked for me.”
Leo’s head snapped around.
“What?”
“She was an attorney.”
“My mother taught Sunday school.”
“She did both.”
Tessa gripped the counter.
“What did she do for you?”
“Kept records.”
“The ledger?”
“Yes.”
Matteo walked toward the fireplace.
“Your father discovered Vittorio Santoro and Antonio were running unauthorized weapons through the docks. Michael wanted out. Evelyn understood that people like Vittorio didn’t allow resignations.”
Leo went completely still at his uncle’s name.
“Antonio?”
Matteo looked at him.
“You really never knew?”
“Careful.”
“Your father wasn’t the mastermind, Leo.”
Tessa’s heart hammered.
“Antonio was?”
“Antonio created the route. Vittorio protected him.”
Leo stared.
“That makes no sense. Antonio hated the weapons trade.”
“He hated competition.”
Matteo removed a loose brick from the fireplace.
Behind it was an envelope.
He handed it to Tessa.
EVELYN.
Her mother’s handwriting.
Tessa opened it.
A letter.
My darling Tessie,
If you are reading this, then everything your father and I tried to hide has probably failed.
Tessa stopped.
Her vision blurred.
Leo remained beside her but did not touch.
She continued.
Your father made a mistake by working for dangerous men. I made another by believing evidence could make us safe. Men who build their lives on fear eventually become frightened of truth.
There are copies of everything.
Not only Michael’s ledger.
Records.
Accounts.
Names.
Enough to protect you if used correctly.
Never give everything to Santoro.
Never give everything to Russo.
Make them need each other.
Tessa stared.
Even dead, her mother apparently understood criminal politics better than everyone currently alive.
A sound came from outside.
Carlo shouted.
“Movement!”
Leo turned.
Gunfire erupted.
Again.
Matteo pulled Tessa down.
Leo fired through the window.
Cars appeared between the trees.
Three SUVs.
Armed men poured out.
“Back door!” Matteo shouted.
Tessa crawled behind the kitchen island.
Leo grabbed her hand.
They ran.
The rear porch overlooked the lake.
A boathouse sat thirty yards away.
Carlo covered them.
Bullets tore through the wooden siding.
Tessa ran barefoot after losing one heel.
They reached the boathouse.
Inside was an old speedboat.
Matteo tossed Leo the keys.
“You drive.”
“I was planning to.”
They climbed aboard.
The engine roared.
Bullets hit the water.
Leo accelerated toward the center of the lake.
Tessa looked back.
One attacker stepped onto the dock.
Even at distance, she recognized his face.
She had seen him every Sunday for a year.
Antonio Santoro.
Leo’s uncle.
The man held a phone to his ear.
Leo’s phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
UNCLE ANTONIO.
Leo answered.
Neither spoke at first.
Then Antonio’s voice came through the speaker.
“Come home, Leo.”
Leo stared back at the distant shoreline.
“You took Michael.”
“Yes.”
Tessa grabbed the phone.
“Is he alive?”
Antonio laughed softly.
“For now.”
“Where is he?”
“Safe.”
“If you hurt him—”
“Your father survived once because Vittorio became sentimental. I am not sentimental.”
Leo’s face changed.
“Antonio.”
“Bring me the blue ledger and Evelyn’s archive.”
“We don’t have the archive.”
“You’ll find it.”
“And if we don’t?”
“Michael dies.”
Tessa’s knees weakened.
Antonio continued.
“Leo, nephew, there is one more thing.”
“What?”
“Ask Russo who was driving Michael’s truck the night it went over the guardrail.”
Everyone in the boat went still.
Matteo’s face changed.
Tessa slowly turned.
“My father was driving.”
Matteo looked away.
“No.”
Her stomach dropped.
“Who was?”
Matteo closed his eyes.
Antonio laughed through the phone.
“Enjoy the family history.”
The call ended.
Tessa stared at Matteo.
“Who was driving?”
Matteo looked at her.
“Your mother.”
The lake seemed to go silent.
Tessa could not speak.
Matteo continued.
“Michael wasn’t the target that night.”
Her legs collapsed beneath her.
Leo caught her.
This time she did not tell him not to touch her.
She clung to his shirt as the truth ripped through everything she believed.
Her mother’s death had not happened years before her father’s accident.
Her mother had died in that crash.
Everyone had lied.
Even her father.
May you like
Especially her father.
And somewhere, Antonio Santoro was holding him hostage.
Related Stories
