Chapter 9 - Nora left the hospital room because the walls had begun moving.
At least that was how it felt.
She reached the stairwell.
Pushed through the heavy fire door.
Sat on the concrete step.
For approximately 2 minutes, she could hear nothing except her own breathing.
Her father.
She possessed 3 memories of him.
A brown jacket.
The smell of peppermint gum.
Hands lifting her toward a ceiling fan because she had wanted to touch the pull-chain.
That was all.
Her mother had told her he died in a construction accident.
Nora had been 8.
There had been no funeral because, according to her mother, the body was too badly damaged.
Nora had believed her.
Children believed the architecture adults constructed around grief.
The stairwell door opened.
Vincent entered.
Nora did not look up.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
Vincent remained 4 steps above her.
For once, he did not command.
He waited.
Nora pressed her palms against her eyes.
“My mother lied.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Elena would not invent this while half-conscious from blood loss.”
“You don’t know my sister.”
He became silent.
Nora laughed bitterly.
“Right. Apparently I don’t know anyone.”
Vincent moved down one step.
“Nora.”
“My father left.”
She lowered her hands.
“That is what this means, doesn’t it? He didn’t die. He left.”
“We do not know.”
“I know.”
Her voice cracked.
“I know because that makes sense.”
Vincent’s expression remained unreadable.
Nora stood.
“She drank after he died. Constantly. Except maybe he didn’t die. Maybe he left her.”
She paced.
“Maybe every time she stole money from me, every time she said life takes things from people like us, every time she told me never to trust anyone—”
“Nora.”
“She was talking about him.”
Vincent caught her shoulders.
She reacted instantly.
Her hand came up between them.
“Don’t touch me.”
He released her.
Nora’s chest rose and fell.
Vincent lowered his hands.
“Fine.”
The lack of resistance destabilized her.
She sat again.
“I want the truth.”
“So do I.”
“No.”
Nora looked up.
“You want the operational truth. Who betrayed you. Who opened the gate. Who gets killed.”
Vincent’s face hardened slightly.
“I want to know why my mother spent the last 11 years of her life drunk. I want to know why my father vanished. I want to know why people I’ve never met know more about my childhood than I do.”
Vincent came down the remaining steps.
He sat beside her.
Not touching.
“I understand.”
Nora turned toward him.
“No, you don’t.”
“My father lied to me for most of my life.”
“That doesn’t mean—”
“He told me my older brother drowned.”
Nora stopped.
Vincent looked toward the gray concrete wall.
“I was 7.”
His voice had changed.
Flat.
Distant.
“I remembered Marco falling from a dock. My father said the current took him.”
“What actually happened?”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“My father killed him.”
Nora stared.
“He was 12.”
“Why?”
“Marco witnessed something he was not supposed to witness.”
Nora felt cold.
“What?”
“I found out when I was 26.”
Vincent looked at her.
“My father executed 2 men inside a warehouse. Marco was hiding behind shipping crates.”
Nora said nothing.
Vincent’s voice remained level.
“He told our mother it was an accident.”
“And she believed him?”
“She chose to.”
The words were brutal.
Nora understood them immediately.
Families survived through selective blindness.
“What did you do when you found out?”
“I began preparing to remove him.”
“Your father.”
“Yes.”
“Did you kill him?”
Vincent held her gaze.
“No.”
The answer contained something incomplete.
Before Nora could ask more, the stairwell door opened.
Bennett appeared.
“Elena’s asking for you both.”
They returned.
Elena looked weaker.
The medication had dulled her eyes.
Vincent stood beside the bed.
“Start at the beginning.”
Elena breathed slowly.
“Daniel Hale.”
Nora frowned.
“Who?”
“Your father.”
“My father’s name was Thomas Reed.”
“No. Your mother changed both names when you were 8.”
Nora felt sick.
Elena continued.
“Daniel Hale worked as an accountant for Costa Maritime.”
Vincent’s expression darkened.
“Under whom?”
“Father directly.”
“When?”
“Twenty years ago.”
Vincent calculated.
“Before I entered port operations.”
“Yes.”
Elena looked at Nora.
“Your father discovered unusual payments associated with containers routed through port 4.”
“Trafficking,” Nora said.
“Yes.”
“He stole evidence?”
“He copied it.”
“What evidence?”
“Ledgers. Container numbers. Payment records. Names of officials.”
Elena swallowed painfully.
“He also copied insurance documents and private account numbers.”
Vincent frowned.
“Why insurance?”
“I don’t know.”
Nora stepped closer.
“What happened?”
“Daniel contacted a federal investigator.”
Hope appeared and died inside Nora within one breath.
“Did they protect him?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“The investigator sold him out.”
Vincent’s face turned cold.
“To my father.”
Elena nodded.
“Daniel ran.”
“With my mother and me?”
“For several weeks.”
“But we lived in the South End for years.”
“You returned after he disappeared.”
Nora stared.
“My mother told me he died.”
“She needed you to stop asking.”
The explanation hurt because it sounded possible.
“What happened to him?”
Elena hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
Nora’s hands became fists.
“You said he stole the ledger.”
“He stole several things.”
“The key.”
Vincent spoke.
Elena looked at him sharply.
“What key?”
Nora explained.
A small brass key inside Vincent’s coat.
Elena became completely still.
“That may be it.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“It?”
“Daniel kept a safe-deposit box.”
“Where?”
“I never found the bank.”
“Why would the key be in my coat 5 years ago?”
Elena looked toward Vincent.
“Because someone wanted you to find Nora.”
Silence.
Vincent’s face hardened.
“Who?”
“My best guess?”
“Yes.”
“Daniel.”
Nora almost laughed.
“My father, who disappeared 19 years ago, placed a key inside Vincent’s coat?”
“I said best guess.”
“That is insane.”
“So is everything else.”
Elena shifted and winced.
“Five years ago, I began finding anonymous envelopes.”
Vincent stared.
“You never told me.”
“No.”
“What was inside?”
“Copies of old Costa records.”
“From Daniel?”
“No signature.”
“Why assume him?”
“One contained a photograph.”
Elena looked at Nora.
“You at age 7.”
Nora’s stomach dropped.
“Where?”
“Standing beside Daniel.”
“Do you still have it?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“My office safe.”
Vincent’s expression became murderous.
“You concealed this for five years.”
“I was trying to determine whether you were involved.”
Vincent recoiled as if struck.
“Me?”
“You inherited Father’s operation.”
“I destroyed half of it.”
“And preserved the profitable half.”
Vincent leaned over the bed.
“I did not know about trafficking.”
“I know that now.”
“How?”
Elena’s eyes moved toward Nora.
“Because if you knew, she would already be dead.”
Nora frowned.
Vincent straightened.
“Explain.”
“The surviving records connect Daniel Hale’s evidence to something called Northstar.”
Bennett, standing near the door, became still.
Vincent noticed.
“What?”
Bennett looked uncomfortable.
“Northstar is one of our current shipping shells.”
Vincent’s face changed.
“Impossible.”
“I sign monthly security summaries for it.”
“Who controls the account?”
“Dominic.”
The name entered the room like poison.
Vincent’s cousin.
Head of financial operations and port security.
One of the few people with gate authorization.
Elena nodded weakly.
“That is why I met Grigori.”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“He told you Dominic continued the trafficking.”
“He gave me records proving Northstar containers were moving people.”
Nora felt nauseated.
“And you trusted Grigori Antonov?”
“No.”
Elena smiled bitterly.
“I trusted numbers.”
Vincent became silent.
“Did Dominic know you were investigating?”
“I thought no.”
“The gate breach suggests yes.”
Elena looked away.
“I made a mistake.”
“What?”
“I told someone.”
“Who?”
“Our uncle Salvatore.”
Vincent swore.
Bennett immediately moved toward the door.
Vincent lifted one hand.
“Wait.”
He looked at Elena.
“Why Salvatore?”
“He hated Father.”
“He hates everyone.”
“He also helped you take control.”
Vincent’s expression darkened.
“Where is he now?”
Bennett checked his phone.
“Costa residence in Queens. According to security.”
“Verify visually.”
Bennett left.
Nora looked between the siblings.
Family history surrounded them like gasoline.
“So Dominic might be trafficking people,” Nora said. “Elena investigated. Antonov knew. Someone shot Elena. Someone wants me.”
Vincent nodded once.
“And all of it connects to your father’s stolen records.”
“And the key.”
“Yes.”
Elena suddenly reached for Nora’s hand.
Her grip was weak.
“Nora.”
Nora looked down.
“If you find the box, do not give it to Vincent.”
Vincent’s eyes became lethal.
“Elena.”
She ignored him.
“Do you understand?”
Nora stared.
“Why?”
“Because the records do not only destroy Antonov.”
Elena looked at her brother.
“They destroy the Costas.”
Vincent’s face became stone.
Nora slowly removed her hand.
“Then maybe the Costas deserve it.”
No one spoke.
A telephone vibrated.
Bennett returned so quickly that Nora knew the news was bad.
“Salvatore isn’t in Queens.”
Vincent turned.
“Where?”
“We don’t know.”
Bennett held up his phone.
“And Dominic disappeared 40 minutes before the estate attack.”
Vincent closed his eyes briefly.
When they opened, all remaining uncertainty had hardened into purpose.
“Move Elena to the monastery.”
“She just had surgery,” Nora said.
“She cannot stay here.”
“The transport could kill her.”
“So could Dominic.”
Nora stared at him.
Vincent stepped closer.
“Can she survive 20 minutes in an ambulance?”
“Probably.”
“That is sufficient.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“It has to be.”
Nora hated that he was right.
Vincent turned toward Bennett.
“Find Nora’s belongings.”
“They’re in storage.”
“Bring them to the monastery.”
He looked at Nora.
“We find the key.”
Nora’s pulse accelerated.
“And then?”
May you like
Vincent held her gaze.
“We open whatever your father spent 19 years trying to keep closed.”
