Chapter 2 - The Secret Behind the Hospital Door
The darkness lasted three seconds.
That was all.
Three seconds without light.
Three seconds of distant screams.
Three seconds in which I heard someone running down the corridor.
Then the emergency lights came on.
Red light washed across the walls.
Detective Shaw grabbed my arm.
"Stay behind me."
Her other hand moved toward her holstered weapon.
I looked toward the door leading to Dante's treatment area.
Two hospital security officers were shouting into radios.
A nurse hurried past us.
Somewhere beyond the double doors, an alarm began to sound.
"What happened?"
"Power interruption."
Shaw's answer came too quickly.
I knew she didn't believe it.
Neither did I.
The hallway doors burst open.
Marco appeared with two men behind him.
His eyes went straight to me.
"Where's Dante?"
Shaw stepped in front of him.
"Mr. Moretti is being treated."
"Where?"
"You don't get to walk into a restricted treatment area."
Marco looked past her toward the emergency doors.
Then he said something that made my stomach drop.
"Someone just tried to access the medication room using a stolen staff badge."
Shaw's expression changed.
"How do you know that?"
"Our security team received a warning from hospital personnel."
The detective reached for her radio.
"Possible security breach in the emergency department."
Marco's attention returned to me.
"Did anyone approach you?"
"No."
"Call you?"
I hesitated.
Shaw noticed.
"Miss Fields received threatening messages."
Marco's jaw tightened.
"Show me."
I held up my phone.
He read the screen.
For a second, all the color left his face.
Not because of the threat against me.
Because of something else.
He recognized it.
"Who sent this?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
"Marco."
He looked at me.
"Do you know who sent it?"
His silence was answer enough.
"You're coming with us."
Shaw immediately shook her head.
"No."
"Detective—"
"She's a material witness in an attempted murder investigation."
"And she's in danger."
"Then we'll protect her."
Marco glanced toward the flickering hallway lights.
"With respect, Detective, someone just accessed a restricted hospital corridor while the power went out."
Shaw's mouth tightened.
She couldn't dismiss that.
But she wasn't about to hand me over, either.
"Miss Fields stays with the police until I know what's happening."
I stepped between them.
"Could somebody please tell me why my dead mother is suddenly part of this?"
Both of them looked at me.
And I knew.
There was more to the messages than either was willing to say.
By 1:16 a.m., Dante was in surgery.
A surgeon told Marco that he had internal bleeding, several cracked ribs, and a concussion.
The next few hours would be critical.
Marco listened without interrupting.
When the surgeon left, he sat down beside me.
For the first time, he looked exhausted.
"How long have you worked at Bellini's?"
"Almost four years."
"Who hired you?"
"Mr. Salvatore."
"First name?"
"Peter."
Marco's face gave nothing away.
"Did you know Dante before tonight?"
"No."
"You never met him privately?"
"No."
"You never delivered anything to him?"
"I delivered a steak once."
Marco looked at me.
"Excuse me?"
"He ordered medium rare."
I folded my arms.
"That's the extent of our relationship."
He almost smiled.
Then he became serious again.
"Have you ever seen this man?"
He showed me a photograph.
A man in his forties stood outside a private airplane.
Dark hair.
Expensive watch.
A crooked nose that looked as though it had been broken years earlier.
My heart skipped.
"That's him."
Marco leaned forward.
"You're certain?"
"That's Vanessa's lover."
The photograph disappeared from his screen.
"Who is he?"
Marco looked toward the operating room.
"Adrian Bell."
"Should that name mean something?"
"He's Dante's chief financial officer."
I stared at him.
"His what?"
"He oversees the company's financial operations."
The room seemed to tilt.
The man who had helped plan Dante's murder wasn't an outsider.
He was one of Dante's closest associates.
"Does Dante know?"
"He knows Adrian works for him."
"That's not what I meant."
Marco's eyes hardened.
"We don't know how much Dante knows."
I thought of Vanessa laughing in the booth.
The easy confidence in her voice.
The certainty that the plan would work.
This wasn't an impulsive act.
It had been carefully arranged.
And if Adrian Bell controlled Dante's money, he probably knew where Dante kept more than a few secrets.
"Why would Vanessa want him dead?"
Marco considered the question.
"Money."
"That's all?"
"People have killed for much less."
I looked toward the operating room.
"And Adrian?"
Marco didn't answer.
I leaned closer.
"You're hiding something."
He looked at me for a long moment.
"There's a reason Dante trusted Adrian Bell."
"What reason?"
"Three years ago, Adrian saved his life."
My blood ran cold.
I had just done the same thing.
And somehow, that made me feel less safe.
Detective Shaw returned shortly after two in the morning.
She asked Marco to leave while we spoke.
He refused at first.
Then she informed him that she could formally question him as part of the investigation.
He left.
Shaw sat opposite me.
"I checked the information you gave me."
"About my mother?"
"Yes."
My stomach twisted.
"What did you find?"
"Your mother, Evelyn Fields, was reported dead seven years ago."
"She died of cancer."
"That's what the death certificate says."
I stared at her.
"Why are you saying it like that?"
"Because the property records connected to her old apartment show continued activity."
"Activity?"
"Maintenance bills, utility payments, and a visitor record from the building."
I shook my head.
"I pay for the apartment."
"Through which account?"
"My brother handles it."
Shaw watched me carefully.
"Your brother is Daniel Fields?"
"Yes."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know."
"When did you last see him?"
"Six months ago."
"Did he disappear voluntarily?"
I looked down.
"He left a note."
"What did it say?"
I had read that note so many times that I could have recited it in my sleep.
Cara, don't look for me.
I'm doing this to protect you.
One day you'll understand.
I told Shaw everything.
She wrote it down.
"Did Daniel have financial problems?"
"Everyone in my family has financial problems."
"Debts?"
"Yes."
"What kind?"
"I don't know."
She stopped writing.
"Did he ever mention the Moretti family?"
My head snapped up.
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
Shaw closed her notebook.
"There's something I need to verify before I say more."
I grabbed her sleeve.
"Please don't do that."
She looked at my hand.
"Do what?"
"Talk like you know something about my family and then walk away."
For a moment, her expression softened.
"You're right."
She lowered her voice.
"We found an account connected to the apartment."
I waited.
"Who pays into it?"
She hesitated.
"Adrian Bell."
I felt as if someone had punched me.
"That's impossible."
"I haven't verified why."
"My brother doesn't know him."
"Maybe."
I stood up.
"You're wrong."
"Cara—"
"You're wrong."
Shaw rose slowly.
"I hope I am."
I stepped away from her.
My mind raced.
Daniel had worked in computer repair before he disappeared.
He was smart with numbers.
He could fix things other people threw away.
He was stubborn.
He was funny.
He was the little boy who used to hide beneath my bed during thunderstorms because he was convinced lightning could reach through windows.
He wasn't part of a mafia conspiracy.
He couldn't be.
Then I remembered something.
A conversation from the night before he vanished.
Daniel had been sitting at my kitchen table with his laptop open.
He looked terrified.
I asked him what was wrong.
He said he had found something at work.
Something he wasn't supposed to see.
When I asked what, he said, "People are moving money through accounts that don't belong to them."
I thought he'd been complaining about a customer.
Now I wasn't so sure.
"Detective."
Shaw turned.
"Daniel was working on something before he disappeared."
"What?"
"I don't know exactly."
"Did he leave anything?"
I hesitated.
There was one thing.
A small brass key he'd given me two days before leaving.
He told me it belonged to a storage locker.
He said if anyone ever asked about it, I should pretend I'd never seen it.
I still had it.
At home.
Shaw noticed my expression.
"What are you remembering?"
Before I could answer, her radio crackled.
A man's voice came through.
"Detective Shaw, we have a possible suspect near the service elevator."
She reached for the radio.
"Description?"
"Male, approximately thirty, wearing hospital scrubs."
My heart began to pound.
The voice continued.
"He was carrying a syringe and a visitor badge issued under a false name."
Shaw moved toward the door.
"Stay here."
"Wait."
She turned.
"What?"
I whispered the question before I could stop myself.
"What name?"
There was a burst of static.
Then the officer answered.
"Daniel Fields."
My knees nearly gave out.
Ten minutes later, Detective Shaw returned alone.
"Where is he?"
She didn't answer immediately.
"Where's my brother?"
"We haven't confirmed the man's identity."
"But the badge—"
"Was issued using your brother's name."
"Did you catch him?"
"No."
I stared at her.
"He escaped?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"The service elevator opened into a delivery corridor."
I put a hand over my mouth.
Shaw stepped closer.
"Cara, listen carefully."
I shook my head.
"He's alive."
"We don't know that he was the man in the hospital."
"He's alive."
My voice broke.
For six months, I'd imagined Daniel alone somewhere.
Hungry.
Injured.
Dead.
Now his name had appeared inside the same hospital where someone might have tried to kill Dante.
I didn't know whether to feel relieved or terrified.
Shaw handed me a paper cup of water.
I couldn't hold it steady.
Then Marco appeared.
"Dante's out of surgery."
I looked up.
"Is he okay?"
"He survived."
The relief was so overwhelming that my eyes filled with tears.
Marco watched me.
"He's asking for you."
Shaw frowned.
"He's conscious?"
"Briefly."
"That doesn't mean she's going anywhere without—"
"Detective."
Marco lowered his voice.
"He asked specifically for Cara Fields."
I looked from one to the other.
Then I made a decision.
"I want to see him."
Dante lay in a private recovery room.
Medical monitors surrounded the bed.
His face was pale beneath the bruises.
A bandage covered part of his forehead.
Another disappeared beneath the hospital gown near his ribs.
Without his tailored suit and dangerous expression, he looked almost ordinary.
Almost.
His eyes opened when I approached.
"Cara."
I stopped beside the bed.
"You look terrible."
His mouth moved slightly.
"I've looked worse."
"I find that difficult to believe."
He tried to smile.
Then he winced.
I pulled a chair closer.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then he said, "Marco told me."
"About Vanessa?"
He nodded.
"And Adrian."
I looked at his hand resting on the blanket.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be."
His voice turned hard.
"You didn't betray me."
I didn't know what to say.
He studied my face.
"You're frightened."
"That's an understatement."
"Someone threatened you."
I nodded.
"Who?"
"I don't know."
"Did they mention your family?"
My stomach tightened.
"How did you know?"
Dante closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, something was different.
He looked at me not as a waitress who had saved him, but as someone standing in the middle of a problem he recognized.
"Cara."
I leaned closer.
"Yes?"
"Did your brother ever work for Adrian Bell?"
I stopped breathing.
"Why?"
Dante's jaw tightened.
"Answer me."
"I don't know."
He stared at the ceiling.
Then he whispered one sentence.
"Daniel Fields was the man who warned me someone inside my company was stealing from me."
The room spun.
"You knew my brother?"
Dante turned toward me.
"Yes."
"Where is he?"
He hesitated.
And that hesitation told me something terrible was coming.
"Where is Daniel?"
Dante reached for my hand.
May you like
His voice was barely audible.
"The last time I saw your brother, he was covered in blood."
