Chapter 5 - THE DEAD MAN WHO CALLED TWICE
The mechanic’s name was Elias Ward.
Dante remembered him only in fragments.
Oil-stained hands.
A gravel voice.
A habit of chewing mint leaves.
And the lake house garage.
According to family records, Elias died four months after Dante’s father.
Car accident.
No surviving family.
Case closed.
Bruno pulled the archived file.
“He was pronounced dead in northern Argentina.”
“Body?”
“Burned.”
“Dental identification?”
Bruno looked at the report.
“No.”
Dante almost smiled.
Another convenient fire.
Rafael sat under guard.
“How do you know Elias is alive?”
“I heard the name.”
“Where?”
“During one of the calls.”
Dante leaned forward.
“Explain.”
“The person paying me forgot to disconnect.”
“What did you hear?”
“A man said, ‘Elias already handled the brakes.’”
“Accent?”
“American.”
Dante exchanged a glance with Bruno.
Elias Ward had been born in Kentucky.
Dante’s father hired him after meeting him at a racing circuit in Florida.
Bruno searched financial records.
“Something else.”
“What?”
“An offshore account linked to Elias’s old company received a payment three days before your accident.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred thousand.”
“Source?”
“Layered.”
Dante looked toward Camila.
She had been moved into a secured bedroom under guard.
“Bring her.”
Camila entered fifteen minutes later.
Dante placed Elias’s photograph in front of her.
“Have you seen him?”
She studied it.
“No.”
“Sure?”
“Yes.”
Sofia was drawing in the corner beside Isabela.
Dante had wanted them elsewhere.
Sofia refused.
She said the house felt safer when everyone was in the same room.
Dante understood more than he wanted to admit.
Camila looked at the photograph again.
“Wait.”
Dante leaned forward.
“What?”
“The eyes.”
“What about them?”
“I saw someone with those eyes.”
“Where?”
“The hospital.”
Henrique turned.
“When?”
“The night Dante woke after surgery.”
Dante’s pulse changed.
“Describe him.”
“Older.”
“Hair?”
“Gray.”
“Height?”
“Maybe six feet.”
“What was he wearing?”
“Hospital maintenance uniform.”
Henrique frowned.
“There was a maintenance worker reported in the restricted recovery wing that night.”
“Reported by whom?” Dante asked.
Henrique looked uneasy.
“Me.”
Dante stared.
“You never told me.”
“You were unconscious.”
“I stopped being unconscious.”
Henrique’s expression tightened.
“The administration said it was a badge error.”
Dante looked at Bruno.
“Get hospital footage.”
“Eight weeks old.”
“Get it anyway.”
They did.
Most footage had already been overwritten.
But one archived incident clip remained.
Henrique had filed a security complaint.
The clip showed a man leaving the restricted corridor.
Cap low.
Gray beard.
Maintenance uniform.
He turned toward a camera for less than one second.
Dante enlarged the frame.
His stomach tightened.
Older.
Thinner.
But unmistakable.
Elias Ward.
A dead man had entered Dante’s hospital room.
“What was he doing there?” Bruno whispered.
Henrique’s face changed.
“I know.”
Everyone looked at him.
Henrique pulled Dante’s surgical chart.
“Your first postoperative complication.”
Dante remembered.
A sudden drop in blood pressure.
Internal bleeding.
Emergency procedure.
Henrique flipped pages.
“We thought a vascular clip failed.”
“Did it?”
Henrique stared at the record.
“I don’t know anymore.”
Dante felt the room become colder.
Someone had tried to kill him at the hospital.
Then kept him disabled at home.
The conspiracy stretched across months.
Maybe years.
Bruno’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“We found Elias.”
“Where?”
“Traffic camera.”
“How recent?”
“Twenty-six minutes ago.”
“Location?”
“Three miles from the estate.”
Dante looked at the rain outside.
Elias was nearby.
Bruno began issuing orders.
Sofia suddenly dropped her crayon.
Dante looked at her.
“What?”
She was staring at Elias’s photograph.
“He came here.”
Silence.
Isabela looked at her daughter.
“When?”
Sofia frowned, trying to remember.
“Before Mister Dante came home.”
Dante rolled closer.
“What did he do?”
“He talked to Grandma Rosa.”
Rosa.
Again.
Dante’s mind shifted.
“What did they say?”
“I don’t know.”
Sofia shook her head.
“They were in the library.”
Dante glanced toward Bruno.
The library had hidden recording equipment installed years earlier.
Not electronic.
Old magnetic surveillance.
His father’s paranoia.
Dante had never removed it.
They went there.
Behind the desk was an obsolete reel recorder connected to a concealed microphone.
Bruno examined it.
“Still running.”
They rewound.
Static.
Hours of empty room sound.
Then voices.
Rosa.
And Elias.
Dante listened.
Rosa spoke first.
“You were supposed to stay dead.”
Elias answered.
“So was Alejandro.”
Dante stopped the tape.
Nobody moved.
Alejandro Montenegro.
Dante’s father.
Dead for seventeen years.
Dante slowly pressed play again.
Rosa whispered.
“If Dante learns what happened at the lake house, everything ends.”
Elias replied.
“No.”
A pause.
Then:
May you like
“That’s when everything begins.”
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