Chapter 12 - The Wrong Woman
At first, I thought the note meant me.
The wrong woman knows.
Clara Vance.
The waitress who had walked toward the mafia boss's table.
The woman holding his son.
The stranger who had somehow found her way into a conspiracy that began months before she ever met the Morettis.
But Rico saw something else.
He took the note from Dr. Ellis.
“Who has access to this cabinet?”
“Only me and my administrator.”
“Who is your administrator?”
The doctor hesitated.
“Her name is Caroline Shaw.”
Dante looked up sharply.
“Shaw?”
Rico turned toward him.
“What?”
Dante pulled out his phone.
“Vincent's longtime attorney is named Patrick Shaw.”
Dr. Ellis covered her mouth.
“Caroline is his daughter.”
The room went silent.
Rico looked toward the hallway.
“Where is she?”
Dr. Ellis was already reaching for the office phone.
“She called in sick this morning.”
Dante spoke quietly into his radio.
“Find Caroline Shaw. Now.”
I leaned against the desk.
Something about this was wrong.
Not just the missing video.
The note.
The timing.
The way every clue appeared just before we reached it.
As if someone were deliberately leading us.
I looked at Rico.
“Who knew we were coming here?”
He frowned.
“You. Me. Dante.”
“And Nora.”
His expression changed.
I continued.
“And the person listening to that call.”
Dante stiffened.
“What are you suggesting?”
“I don't know. But every time we find something, somebody is already one step ahead.”
Rico studied me.
Then looked at Dante.
“Have the vehicles checked.”
Dante nodded.
“For tracking devices?”
“And anything else.”
The doctor sat down heavily.
“I thought Elena was safe.”
I turned toward her.
“Did you ever see her after she left?”
The woman nodded.
“Once.”
“When?”
“About eight weeks ago.”
My heart jumped.
“Where?”
“Here.”
Rico stepped forward.
“She came back?”
“Yes.”
“Was she alone?”
The doctor looked uncomfortable.
“No.”
“Who was with her?”
“A woman.”
“What woman?”
Dr. Ellis hesitated.
“I didn't recognize her. Dark hair. Midforties. Walked with a cane.”
I felt the floor shift beneath my feet.
My mother.
Rico looked at me.
I shook my head.
“Mom would have told me.”
But even as I said it, I knew that wasn't necessarily true.
She'd already kept Elena's secrets for six months.
Dr. Ellis continued.
“Elena asked whether it was safe to contact her husband.”
Rico's eyes filled.
“What did you tell her?”
“I said she should speak with her attorney first.”
He looked down.
I could almost see him remembering every morning he'd woken up believing his wife was dead.
Every night he'd heard Leo crying.
Every time he'd stared at Elena's empty chair.
I wanted to reach for him.
But before I could, Dante returned.
His expression was grim.
“We found a tracker.”
Rico straightened.
“Where?”
“Under the rear bumper.”
“Who placed it?”
“We don't know.”
Dante looked at me.
Then away.
I caught the hesitation.
“What?”
He said nothing.
“Dante.”
Rico's voice hardened.
“Tell us.”
Dante took a breath.
“The tracker matches a batch purchased by a security company connected to Vincent.”
“That doesn't surprise me,” Rico said.
“No.”
Dante swallowed.
“What concerns me is the activation record.”
Rico frowned.
“Explain.”
“It was activated less than an hour after Clara left her apartment yesterday.”
I went cold.
“That was before I met Rico.”
Dante nodded.
“Someone was following you before the restaurant incident.”
I stared at him.
My mother hadn't called me about Elena.
She hadn't warned me about Vincent.
As far as I knew, I'd simply gone to work.
Worked my shift.
Seen a frightened child.
Offered him warm milk.
But somebody had already been watching.
Rico looked at me.
“Clara, how long have you worked at Il Destino?”
“Almost nine months.”
“Who hired you?”
“Marco.”
Dante slowly lowered his phone.
Rico's face changed.
Because we all remembered the same thing.
Marco had called Vincent the moment Leo stopped crying.
And suddenly, the restaurant where this nightmare began no longer felt like a coincidence.
Rico turned toward Dante.
“Find Marco.”
Dante was already dialing.
But the call went straight to voicemail.
A message arrived seconds later.
A photograph.
Marco sitting in a chair.
Hands tied.
Blood on his collar.
May you like
And beneath it, one sentence.
BRING CLARA VANCE TO THE WATERFRONT, OR THE MANAGER DIES.
