Chapter 9 - THE SECOND CAR
Traffic cameras from three years earlier had mostly been overwritten.
Mostly.
Ashwood Bridge sat near an intersection monitored by an old municipal congestion system.
One archive survived.
At 7:41 p.m. on the night of the crash, Alessandra’s black sedan entered frame.
Eight seconds later, a gray SUV followed.
The plate was unreadable.
The vehicle itself was not.
Matteo recognized it.
“Dominic had one like that.”
Luca answered without looking away.
“So did half of Chicago.”
The detective zoomed.
A parking permit was visible in the windshield.
Moretti Foundation.
Luca stood.
“Find the fleet records.”
The SUV belonged to North Pier Security.
Its assigned driver was a man named Victor Sanz.
On his right wrist, Victor had a winged hawk tattoo.
The same design Sophia remembered.
The same design visible on the man who stole my phone.
Victor Sanz was supposed to be dead.
According to state records, he had died eighteen months earlier in Nevada.
Matteo discovered the death certificate used a Social Security number belonging to another Victor Sanz born nine years earlier.
The dead man was not our man.
He had disappeared.
Until the gala.
That afternoon, Chicago police issued a warrant.
Dominic remained missing.
Marcus Vale stopped answering calls.
And Sophia asked me if she could have grilled cheese.
The normality nearly destroyed me.
We sat in Luca’s kitchen while rain streaked the windows.
Sophia dipped her sandwich in tomato soup.
“Was Mommy murdered?”
My hand froze.
Luca was at the opposite end of the table.
Dr. Benton looked down.
Nobody had prepared for the question.
Luca moved closer.
“We think somebody may have caused the accident.”
“That means yes.”
“We don’t know everything.”
“Did Uncle Dominic do it?”
“We don’t know.”
She looked at me.
“You know.”
“No.”
“You think he did.”
“That is different from knowing.”
She frowned.
“Adults say that when they don’t want to tell kids things.”
“Sometimes.”
“Are you doing it?”
“Yes.”
She accepted that more easily than a lie.
Then she asked, “Did Mommy know she was going to die?”
Luca’s face folded for half a second.
“No.”
He answered immediately.
“She was trying to get to me.”
Sophia pushed her soup away.
“I remember her telling me not to be scared.”
Luca took her hand.
“She loved you.”
“I know.”
“She loved you more than anything.”
“I know.”
Sophia looked at him.
“Did she love you?”
A broken laugh escaped him.
“Yes.”
“Did you love her?”
“More than I knew how to say.”
“Then why didn’t you listen to her about Uncle Dominic?”
The question left no place to hide.
Luca lowered his head.
“Because I was wrong.”
Sophia considered him.
Then nodded.
“That happens.”
He looked up.
She added, “A lot.”
I laughed before I could stop myself.
Luca looked offended.
Then Sophia laughed too.
For ten seconds, the kitchen felt like a family kitchen.
Then the front security alarm sounded.
Matteo appeared in the doorway.
“Move.”
Everything changed instantly.
Luca grabbed Sophia’s wheelchair.
“What?”
“Vehicle breached the outer gate.”
“How?”
“Contractor credentials.”
“Whose?”
“No time.”
Two guards entered.
Dr. Benton took Sophia.
I followed.
Luca caught my arm.
“Safe room.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“I am not hiding while—”
“Hannah.”
His voice cut through mine.
“If Victor stole your phone, you are a target.”
Before I could argue, glass shattered somewhere downstairs.
A gunshot followed.
Sophia screamed.
Luca turned toward the sound.
I saw what happened to him.
Father disappeared.
Leader arrived.
He pushed Sophia’s wheelchair toward me.
“Go.”
This time I listened.
Matteo led us through a hidden door behind the pantry.
The safe room had reinforced walls.
Sophia cried silently while Dr. Benton held her.
I crouched beside her.
“Three breaths.”
She shook her head.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Look at me.”
Another gunshot.
She covered her ears.
I took her face gently.
“One.”
She inhaled.
“Two.”
Again.
“Three.”
The gunfire stopped.
Silence followed.
Too much silence.
Then the secure intercom came alive.
Luca’s voice.
“We’re clear.”
Sophia sagged against me.
The intruder was not Victor.
He was a twenty-six-year-old foundation maintenance contractor named Aaron Pike.
He had entered using credentials issued that morning.
In his pocket, police found cash.
A disposable phone.
And a photograph.
The photograph showed me leaving my apartment three weeks earlier.
On the back, someone had written:
SHE STILL HAS IT.
I stared at the picture.
Luca stood beside me.
“What did they think I still had?”
“The voicemail?”
“The phone?”
“The backup?”
I shook my head.
“They stole both.”
“Maybe they didn’t know about the cloud.”
“No.”
Something about the wording bothered me.
SHE STILL HAS IT.
Not she has a copy.
Not get the recording.
Still has it.
A memory returned.
Cold water.
Broken glass.
Alessandra trapped behind the wheel.
My hand reaching beneath the dashboard.
A small object floating near the center console.
I had picked it up without thinking.
Then everything became chaos.
I looked at Luca.
“What did Alessandra always wear?”
His brow furrowed.
“What?”
“Jewelry.”
“What kind?”
“A wedding ring.”
“Necklace?”
He looked confused.
“A gold locket.”
My heart began pounding.
“What shape?”
“Oval.”
I stood so fast the chair moved backward.
“Where is it?”
He stared at me.
“It wasn’t recovered.”
I closed my eyes.
Because suddenly I remembered.
May you like
I had found it inside the car.
And I had not given it to police.
