Chapter 2 - The Number on the Collar
The barking became frantic.
Bruno had barely been able to stand ten minutes earlier, yet now he dragged himself toward the rear wall.
Dante followed.
Both dogs stopped beside a row of metal storage cabinets.
Luca watched them.
Then he looked at Marco.
“Move those.”
Marco and another guard pulled the cabinets away.
Behind them was nothing except old brick.
Or so I thought.
Dante scratched at the mortar.
Luca crouched.
One brick was darker than the others.
He pressed it.
Nothing happened.
Marco found a narrow metal seam running vertically through the wall.
“A concealed door.”
Vanessa turned toward the garage entrance.
Two guards blocked her.
Luca never raised his voice.
“Where does it go?”
“I don’t know.”
“You knew Dante was here.”
“That doesn’t mean I know everything.”
“You knew enough to hide him.”
She folded her arms.
“I found him three weeks ago.”
“Where?”
“On a property outside Lake Geneva.”
Marco looked at Luca.
“The Bellini property?”
Vanessa’s eyes flashed.
“My family owns hundreds of acres.”
“Why was my father’s dog there?”
“I don’t know.”
Luca walked closer.
“Try again.”
She looked at me.
As though this was somehow my fault.
“If your maid hadn’t interfered, none of this would have happened.”
Luca’s expression hardened.
“If Emma hadn’t interfered, Bruno would be gone.”
“I was protecting you.”
“From my dog?”
“From what your father left behind.”
Silence.
Luca glanced toward the hidden door.
“My father left me everything through attorneys.”
Vanessa laughed without humor.
“You really believe that?”
Marco returned carrying a leather document case from the house.
Inside were copies of Salvatore Moretti’s estate records.
Luca flipped through them.
His father’s Chicago properties.
Investment accounts.
Warehouses.
A vineyard.
A lake house.
Then Luca stopped.
A page had been removed.
Not torn.
Removed cleanly.
“Who accessed these?”
Marco frowned.
“They came from the estate archive.”
“When were they last checked?”
“Years ago.”
Luca held up the file.
“Find out.”
While they spoke, I knelt beside Bruno.
He rested against my leg.
Dante stayed close.
The two dogs clearly knew one another.
That seemed impossible if Dante had supposedly been dead seven years.
I examined Dante’s tag.
314.
There was a tiny groove along one side.
It did not look like an ordinary identification tag.
“Mr. Moretti?”
Luca turned.
“I think this opens.”
I pressed my fingernail against the groove.
The brass casing separated slightly.
Marco handed me a small pocketknife.
I worked the edge carefully.
The tag opened.
Inside was a tiny key.
No one spoke.
Vanessa closed her eyes.
Luca held out his hand.
I placed the key in his palm.
“What does it open?”
She looked away.
He studied her.
“You already know.”
Vanessa finally answered.
“There’s a deposit box.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know.”
“Vanessa.”
“I swear.”
Luca stared at her.
Then he walked back toward the concealed door.
There was a small keyhole hidden beneath a sliding steel plate.
He inserted the key.
It turned.
The brick door unlocked.
Cold air moved through the garage.
Behind the wall was a narrow staircase descending underground.
I felt my stomach tighten.
Luca looked at Marco.
“Flashlights.”
Vanessa moved forward.
“You cannot go down there.”
Luca looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because Salvatore never intended you to find it.”
That stopped him.
“How would you know what my father intended?”
She realized too late what she had admitted.
Marco’s hand moved toward his jacket.
Luca remained still.
“When did you meet my father?”
Vanessa said nothing.
Luca repeated the question.
“You told me you first met my family three years ago.”
“I met your mother.”
“My father had been dead four years by then.”
Vanessa stared at the floor.
I suddenly remembered something she had said earlier.
The veterinarian.
The driver.
The careful removal of Bruno’s tag.
None of this had begun tonight.
Maybe it hadn’t even begun when Luca left five days ago.
Maybe Vanessa had been waiting years.
Luca descended the first step.
Bruno tried to follow.
“No.”
The dog whined.
Luca touched his head.
“You stay with Emma.”
He looked at me.
“Keep both dogs upstairs.”
I nodded.
He and Marco disappeared down the staircase.
Vanessa remained under guard.
Five minutes passed.
Then ten.
The rain grew louder.
Dante paced.
Bruno refused to lie down.
Then Luca returned.
And the man who emerged from that staircase was not the same one who had gone down.
He carried a wooden box.
His face looked carved from stone.
Marco followed with an old leather ledger.
Luca set the box on the workbench.
Inside were photographs.
Letters.
A cassette recorder.
And a sealed envelope.
The front of the envelope had one handwritten sentence.
FOR LUCA, IF DANTE EVER COMES HOME.
Luca stared at his father’s handwriting.
Then he looked at Vanessa.
“You knew this existed.”
“No.”
“You knew about the room.”
“I knew Salvatore hid something.”
“Who told you?”
She did not answer.
Luca opened the envelope.
Inside was one photograph.
I could see it from where I stood.
A younger Salvatore Moretti stood beside Bruno and Dante.
Next to him was another man.
A man I recognized.
Because his photograph had appeared in Chicago newspapers for years.
Carlo Bellini.
Vanessa’s father.
On the back, Salvatore had written a date.
And three words.
NEVER TRUST CARLO.
Luca slowly looked up.
Vanessa’s face had gone white.
Then Marco opened the ledger.
The first page contained a list of names.
The second contained bank transfers.
The third contained photographs.
He stopped.
“Sir.”
Luca looked over.
Marco pointed to an entry dated seven years earlier.
The night Salvatore Moretti died.
Beside it was a payment.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
Recipient:
Dr. Henry Caldwell.
The physician who had signed Salvatore’s death certificate.
And beneath the payment was one final notation.
C.B. CONFIRMED.
Luca turned toward Vanessa.
“Call your father.”
She shook her head.
“Luca—”
“Call him.”
She backed away.
“No.”
He stepped closer.
“I said call your father.”
Her eyes filled with something deeper than fear.
“Carlo isn’t the person you should be afraid of.”
A phone rang.
Not Luca’s.
Not Marco’s.
Vanessa’s.
Everyone looked at it.
She slowly removed it from her purse.
Unknown number.
Luca took the phone.
He answered.
No one spoke on the other end for several seconds.
May you like
Then a man’s voice said:
“Tell Luca Moretti that opening his father’s room was the worst mistake of his life.”
