Chapter 8 - The Motel Room
Luca did not go alone.
He only made Salvatore believe he did.
Daniel contacted a retired federal investigator he trusted named Evelyn Hart.
No sirens.
No marked cars.
No Moretti security.
We drove separately.
The address led to a roadside motel near Cicero.
Luca entered through the front.
Dominic and Evelyn approached from the rear.
Vanessa stayed with Daniel.
I was supposed to stay too.
I did not.
Teresa had called me.
She had trusted me before any of them.
So I followed Evelyn.
Room 214.
Door cracked open.
No voices.
Luca stepped inside.
Empty.
Bed unmade.
Lamp on.
Bathroom door closed.
“Teresa?”
Nothing.
He opened it.
Empty.
Then the television turned on by itself.
Salvatore Moretti appeared on the screen.
Seventy-one.
Silver hair.
Dark suit.
Calm face.
The man looked like someone’s grandfather at a Sunday dinner.
His voice was warm.
“Luca.”
Luca stared.
“If you’re watching this, you continue to disappoint me.”
Dominic entered behind him.
Salvatore smiled from the recording.
“Dominic is probably there.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
“And if Claire Dawson ignored instructions, she is there too.”
I stopped.
He knew us too well.
Salvatore continued.
“Everyone believes betrayal comes from hatred.”
“It rarely does.”
“Usually it comes from love distorted by fear.”
Luca’s jaw tightened.
“My brother Anthony loved this family.”
“So he built a machine powerful enough to protect it.”
“He bought judges.”
“He paid police.”
“He purchased silence.”
“He called it survival.”
Salvatore leaned closer to the camera.
“Then one day he became ashamed of the machine he built.”
“So he decided to destroy it.”
A sad smile.
“And destroy all of us with it.”
Dominic whispered, “Where is Teresa?”
The recording continued as if answering.
“Ms. Walsh is alive.”
“For now.”
Luca stepped toward the television.
“What do you want?”
Salvatore couldn’t hear him.
But again, the recording seemed prepared.
“What I want is simple.”
“Tomorrow, Luca will marry Vanessa.”
“Dominic will stand beside him.”
“The trust will activate.”
“And all of you will behave as though nothing has happened.”
“After the ceremony, the original ledger will be delivered to me.”
Dominic laughed.
“We don’t have it.”
Salvatore continued.
“You will retrieve it from the safe-deposit box at First National.”
We all looked at one another.
He knew.
“Do not attempt to copy it.”
“Do not involve the police.”
“Do not pretend you have choices.”
Then his smile disappeared.
“Claire.”
My stomach dropped.
“If you want to know what happened to your father, attend the wedding.”
The screen went black.
I could hear my own breathing.
Then someone knocked.
Three times.
We turned.
Evelyn opened the door.
A motel employee stood there holding an envelope.
“This was left for the man in this room.”
Luca took it.
Inside was a photograph.
My father.
Alive.
Taken eight years ago.
He sat across from Salvatore in a restaurant.
On the back was a handwritten sentence.
YOUR FATHER DIDN’T DIE BECAUSE HE FOUND THE MONEY.
I flipped it over again.
Below the first sentence, smaller writing continued.
HE DIED BECAUSE HE FOUND THE NAME.
I stared at Luca.
“What name?”
Nobody knew.
Then Dominic looked at the photograph more closely.
“Wait.”
He pointed to the mirror behind my father.
A reflection.
A fifth person stood behind the photographer.
Only half his face was visible.
Daniel Reed leaned closer.
His expression changed.
“Oh God.”
Luca looked at him.
“You know him?”
Daniel nodded.
“That’s Judge Malcolm Hayes.”
The name meant nothing to me.
It meant everything to Luca.
Judge Hayes had signed the order dismissing the investigation into Anthony Moretti’s death.
Eight years ago.
May you like
Two weeks after my father died.
And Judge Hayes was scheduled to officiate Luca’s wedding.
