Chapter 4 – THE COAT IN THE WINE CELLAR

The mansion was on lockdown.

Guests had been evacuated by police, who were currently cordoning off the burning garage. Luca’s lawyers were handling the authorities at the front gate, keeping them out of the main house.

Inside, it was a war room.

Dozens of armed men patrolled the corridors.

I sat in the kitchen, wrapping a blanket tightly around my shoulders. My hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

Luca walked in. He had taken off his suit jacket and rolled up his sleeves. He looked exhausted, but his eyes were sharp.

He set a mug of hot tea in front of me.

“Drink this,” he said softly.

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Do you have any news?”

“My men are tracking Vanessa’s phone. But I need to ask you something, Olivia.”

He sat across from me.

“You said you saw Vanessa inspecting the staff quarters yesterday.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was she alone?”

I thought back to the afternoon.

“No,” I realized. “She was with a man. I thought he was an exterminator. He was wearing a heavy black winter coat, even though it’s sixty degrees outside. He kept his collar pulled up.”

Luca’s jaw clenched. “A scar on his neck?”

“I couldn’t see. But he walked with a slight limp.”

Luca stood up. “Victor shattered his femur in a car accident ten years ago. It was him. He’s been inside my house.”

Daniel rushed into the kitchen.

“Boss. We found something in the sub-basement. The old wine cellar.”

Luca didn’t hesitate. “Show me.”

He looked at me. “Stay here with the guards.”

“No,” I said, standing up. “If they framed me, I’m involved. I’m coming with you.”

Luca looked like he wanted to argue, but he saw the determination in my eyes. He gave a sharp nod.

We descended two flights of stairs into the massive, cavernous wine cellar. It was freezing cold, smelling of oak and damp earth.

At the far end of the cellar, an old iron door had been forced open.

Inside was a dusty storage room.

Lying on the floor was a heavy black wool coat.

The same coat I had seen the man wearing yesterday.

Luca walked over and picked it up. He checked the pockets.

He pulled out a heavy, silver rosary.

The beads were black onyx. The cross was tarnished.

Luca stared at the rosary. The color drained from his face completely.

“It’s him,” Luca whispered. “This is the rosary my father gave Victor when they took their oaths.”

“Why would he leave his coat and his rosary behind?” Daniel asked.

I looked at the stone wall behind the coat.

“Mr. Moretti,” I said, pointing.

Scratched into the limestone wall, fresh and white against the dark rock, were numbers.

41.8781, -87.6298

“Coordinates,” Daniel said, quickly typing them into his phone.

He looked up.

“It’s the old shipping yards on the South Side. Pier 4.”

Luca dropped the coat. He pulled a spare magazine from his pocket and slammed it into his pistol.

“Load up the men,” Luca ordered. “We’re going to Pier 4.”

“Boss, it’s a trap,” Daniel warned. “He wants you there.”

“He has my son, Daniel. I don’t care if it’s the gates of hell. I’m walking through them.”

He looked at me.

“You stay here. Lock the kitchen doors. Do not let anyone in.”

Before I could argue, a loud, echoing gunshot rang out from the floor above us.

Then another.

“They aren’t at Pier 4,” I realized, panic seizing my throat.

Luca raised his gun, aiming it at the stairs.

“They’re still in the house.”

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