Chapter 9 - The Price of Keeping a Secret
David Ashford arrived at the federal interview room wearing a navy suit and the relaxed expression of a man who believed that paperwork could solve anything.
He was sixty-seven.
Tall.
Silver-haired.
Carefully spoken.
Alexander had known him since childhood.
Ashford had attended both his parents' funerals.
He had officiated at several company celebrations.
He had once told Alexander that the Moretti family was more important than any individual member.
Now Alexander understood what that meant.
Rebecca Shaw sat across from him.
Mercer stood near the door.
Alexander observed from an adjoining room.
Ashford folded his hands.
"I'm here voluntarily."
Rebecca nodded.
"That's correct."
"I hope this matter can be resolved without unnecessary publicity."
"That depends on your answers."
Ashford smiled.
"Of course."
Rebecca placed a document before him.
"Did you sign this death declaration for Eleanor Moretti?"
Ashford examined it.
"Yes."
"Did you know she was alive?"
A pause.
"I relied on medical information provided to me."
"That wasn't my question."
Ashford looked up.
"You're implying misconduct."
"I'm asking whether you knowingly submitted false information."
"I reject that characterization."
Rebecca placed a second document before him.
"Then explain why you helped remove Eleanor from Northbridge eighteen months ago."
Ashford stopped smiling.
Alexander watched closely.
Rebecca continued.
"You arranged legal representation for a woman you had previously certified as deceased."
Ashford cleared his throat.
"That matter is privileged."
"Privilege doesn't protect participation in a crime."
He leaned back.
"I think this interview is over."
Rebecca closed the folder.
"You're free to leave."
Ashford blinked.
"That's it?"
"For now."
He stood.
Rebecca added, "One more thing."
He stopped.
"We've identified the bank used to pay the private transportation company that moved Isabella Moretti."
Ashford's hand tightened on his briefcase.
Rebecca watched him.
"It was funded through an account controlled by your law firm's trust department."
Ashford's expression went flat.
"You're making a serious allegation."
"Yes."
Rebecca leaned forward.
"And we intend to prove it."
The interview ended.
Alexander entered the room moments later.
"Why did you let him leave?"
Rebecca didn't look up.
"Because he didn't bring a lawyer."
"So?"
"So now he'll probably contact the people we're investigating."
Alexander stared.
"You're using him."
"We're following the evidence."
"What if he calls my father?"
"Then we'll learn something."
Alexander paced.
"Isabella is still missing."
Rebecca's expression softened.
"I know."
"Every hour matters."
"Which is why we need the people holding her to make mistakes."
Alexander stopped.
"Then help me make them."
Rebecca looked up.
He explained his idea.
It was simple.
And dangerous.
Vincent believed Alexander wanted revenge.
Lorenzo believed Alexander was emotionally unstable.
Both would expect him to attack publicly.
Neither would expect him to surrender.
"Absolutely not," Benjamin said when Alexander described the plan.
They were back at the secure apartment Rebecca had arranged.
Lucy was asleep.
Eleanor sat near the fireplace with Elena.
Alexander stood beside the dining table.
"I'm not asking permission."
Benjamin folded his arms.
"That's unfortunate, because I'm saying no anyway."
Alexander looked at Rebecca.
She was considering the proposal.
"What exactly are you offering?" she asked.
"A public settlement."
"To Vincent?"
"Yes."
"You'll abandon your challenge to his temporary control?"
"Temporarily."
"And in exchange?"
"He has to meet me."
Rebecca narrowed her eyes.
"Why?"
"Because my father won't speak to me directly."
"Vincent might."
Elena shook her head.
"He'll never confess."
"I don't need him to."
Alexander looked at Priya.
"Can you identify the account that paid the hospital administrator?"
Priya nodded.
"Probably."
"Then give me something Vincent thinks I don't know."
"You want to bait him."
"Yes."
Rebecca leaned back.
"That could compromise our investigation."
"Then make it part of your investigation."
Silence.
Finally, she said, "We would need complete operational control."
Alexander nodded.
"Fine."
Benjamin stared at him.
"You've changed your mind about trusting the authorities?"
Alexander looked toward Lucy's bedroom.
"No."
"I've changed my mind about fighting alone."
The next afternoon, Vincent received an encrypted message.
I WANT TO END THIS.
I'LL STOP CHALLENGING YOU IF YOU TELL ME WHERE ISABELLA IS.
NO POLICE.
Vincent responded twenty minutes later.
YOU'RE FINALLY BEING REASONABLE.
Alexander read the message.
"There's my little brother."
Rebecca watched from across the table.
"Don't underestimate him."
"I won't."
A second message arrived.
THE OLD BOATHOUSE.
8 PM.
COME ALONE.
Alexander stared.
The old boathouse stood on the grounds of the family summer estate.
The same place where Isabella's secret hospital room had been discovered.
Rebecca looked at Mercer.
"He's choosing familiar territory."
Alexander shook his head.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because Vincent knows I hate that place."
He turned toward the window.
"When we were children, he used to lock me inside the boathouse during storms."
Elena stared.
"Why?"
Alexander gave a humorless laugh.
"Because he thought it was funny."
Benjamin looked at Rebecca.
"We're not sending him in alone."
Rebecca nodded.
"Obviously."
At 7:54 that evening, Alexander walked toward the boathouse.
A cold wind moved across the lake.
The sky was dark.
Rain threatened.
He wore a small recording device approved by federal investigators.
Mercer and his team monitored from concealed positions beyond the tree line.
Alexander entered.
Vincent sat at a wooden table beneath a hanging lamp.
A bottle of whiskey stood between two glasses.
His brother looked exhausted.
Dark circles surrounded his eyes.
His left cheek was swollen from the restaurant confrontation.
"Alex."
"Vincent."
Vincent gestured toward the chair.
"Sit."
Alexander remained standing.
"Where is Isabella?"
Vincent sighed.
"You never did understand negotiations."
"Where?"
"Sit down."
Alexander pulled out the chair.
Vincent poured whiskey.
Alexander didn't touch it.
"You've caused a great deal of trouble," Vincent said.
Alexander stared.
"You kidnapped my wife."
"That's not entirely accurate."
"Then correct me."
Vincent looked at the bottle.
"Father ordered the initial operation."
"You participated."
"Yes."
"Did you know she was pregnant?"
Vincent hesitated.
"Not until afterward."
"And you still kept her prisoner."
"Father said it was necessary."
Alexander leaned forward.
"Did you ever once ask whether it was right?"
Vincent's face hardened.
"You think you were the only one Father controlled?"
Alexander sat back.
"Tell me."
Vincent laughed bitterly.
"You were the golden son."
"That's not how I remember it."
"Of course not."
Vincent stood.
"Everything was always about Alexander."
"The company."
"The family name."
"The future."
Alexander watched him.
"You were my brother."
"And you were Father's investment."
Vincent leaned over the table.
"He never loved either of us."
"Then why are you still helping him?"
Vincent's expression changed.
For a moment, he looked like the frightened boy Alexander remembered.
"Because I know what happens when people stop."
Alexander lowered his voice.
"You can still walk away."
Vincent shook his head.
"Not anymore."
"Help me find Isabella."
Vincent stared at him.
"Why?"
"Because she's my wife."
"She stopped being your wife the day she chose to destroy us."
Alexander's jaw tightened.
"She chose to expose crimes."
Vincent stepped backward.
"She chose to expose Father."
"Good."
"You don't understand."
"Then explain it."
Vincent looked toward the dark windows.
For the first time, real fear appeared in his eyes.
"Father isn't trying to keep Isabella quiet anymore."
Alexander went still.
"What?"
Vincent swallowed.
"He's preparing to end everything."
"Where is she?"
Vincent shook his head.
"Alex, if you find her, he'll kill all of us."
Alexander stood.
"Where?"
Vincent reached into his jacket.
The federal agents monitoring the conversation tensed.
But Vincent withdrew a folded piece of paper.
He placed it on the table.
"There's a facility near the Wisconsin border."
Alexander stared at the paper.
"What's this?"
"An access route."
"Why are you giving it to me?"
Vincent's eyes filled.
"Because she wasn't supposed to suffer this long."
Alexander looked at him.
"You helped do this."
"I know."
"Then come with me."
Vincent shook his head.
"I can't."
"Why?"
Vincent looked toward the window again.
"Because I made one mistake too many."
A red laser dot appeared on his chest.
Alexander saw it.
"Vincent!"
He lunged.
A shot shattered the window.
Vincent fell backward.
Alexander hit the floor beside him.
"Stay down!"
Glass rained across the table.
Another shot struck the wall.
Alexander pulled Vincent behind a wooden support beam.
Blood spread across his brother's shirt.
Vincent gasped.
"Alex..."
"Don't talk."
Alexander pressed his hand against the wound.
"You hear me?"
Vincent gripped his wrist.
"Father..."
"I know."
"No."
Vincent's eyes widened.
"He knows about Lucy."
Alexander froze.
Vincent pulled him closer.
"And he knows where she is."
The federal team burst into the boathouse.
Alexander barely heard them.
He was already reaching for his phone.
He called Benjamin.
No answer.
Again.
No answer.
He called Elena.
The line connected.
"Elena!"
There was screaming in the background.
Then Lucy's frightened voice.
"Daddy?"
Alexander's heart stopped.
"Lucy!"
A man's voice interrupted.
Calm.
Elderly.
Familiar.
"Hello, Alexander."
His father.
"Do you have my daughter?"
Lorenzo Moretti laughed softly.
"Your daughter?"
He paused.
"Son, you still haven't learned who owns this family."
The connection ended.
Alexander stared at the phone.
May you like
His daughter's voice continued echoing inside his head.
And for the second time in forty-eight hours, the people he loved had been taken from him.
