Chapter 4 - A Name From the Past|
Vincent locked the bedroom door before asking Nora to sit.
She remained standing.
“Tell me everything.”
Nora looked at the photograph again. The man beside Marcus had a narrow face, silver hair, and a small crescent-shaped scar beneath his right ear.
“His name is Peter Sloane,” she said. “At least, that’s the name he gave me.”
“How long ago?”
“About three months after Daniel’s accident. He came to the rehabilitation center with a woman who said she worked for an insurance company. They asked questions about Daniel’s fall, his employer, and whether he remembered seeing anyone near the construction platform.”
Vincent’s expression changed.
“Why would they care?”
“I thought they were investigating the accident. Daniel had mentioned that one of the site managers argued with a man in an expensive car that morning. The next week, the contractor suddenly changed his story.”
“Did you tell the police?”
“I tried. The local detective said there wasn’t enough evidence. Peter disappeared after that.”
Vincent turned the photograph over.
“Why didn’t you tell me any of this?”
“You never asked about my brother’s accident.”
“I could have helped.”
Nora gave him a hard look.
“You could have helped, yes. But you could also have frightened everyone involved until they stopped talking. I needed someone who could listen.”
Vincent had no answer.
He picked up his phone and called Rocco Bellini, his head of security.
“Come to my office. Bring the surveillance files from the night I was shot.”
Rocco arrived twenty minutes later. He was in his late forties, with close-cropped hair and a quiet, watchful manner that had earned Vincent’s trust over twelve years.
When Vincent showed him the photograph, Rocco’s face tightened.
“Where did you get this?”
“Someone left it at my door.”
Rocco examined it.
“Peter Sloane worked for a private security company that occasionally handled sensitive assignments for our business. He vanished shortly after the shooting.”
“Was he involved?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
Rocco nodded, then glanced at Nora.
“Is she supposed to be here?”
Vincent’s answer came immediately.
“Yes.”
Rocco said nothing more, but his gaze lingered on the photograph.
Vincent noticed.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing I can prove yet.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Rocco exhaled.
“The restaurant’s exterior cameras were disabled eleven minutes before the attack. Whoever did it had access to the service corridor. The original report said the system failed. I never believed that explanation.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You were in intensive care. Then you were in rehabilitation. When you came home, you refused to discuss the shooting.”
Vincent looked away.
Rocco continued carefully.
“I should have pushed harder.”
“Apparently everyone in this house has decided what I can handle.”
“No, boss. We decided you were already carrying too much.”
Vincent’s jaw flexed.
“Stop deciding for me.”
Rocco lowered his head.
“Yes, boss.”
After he left, Nora moved toward the door.
“Wait,” Vincent said.
She turned.
“You said Peter asked about your brother. Did he ever mention me?”
“No.”
“Did he ask about this house?”
“He asked whether Daniel had ever worked on a Bellori property. Daniel said no.”
Vincent’s eyes sharpened.
“Did he ask about anyone who did?”
Nora thought for a moment.
“He asked whether Daniel knew a construction supervisor named Anthony Vale.”
Vincent’s fingers stopped moving.
Anthony Vale had managed renovations on three of Vincent’s properties before disappearing two years earlier. The man had been accused of stealing payroll funds, but the investigation had gone nowhere.
“Why would Peter ask about Vale?”
“I don’t know.”
Vincent opened his office computer and searched the name. Most records had been archived, but one scanned report remained. Anthony Vale had been employed by a construction company that handled a renovation project at the restaurant where Vincent was shot.
The same restaurant.
The same building.
The same night.
Nora stepped closer.
“Does that mean my brother’s accident was connected to your shooting?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“But you think it might be.”
Vincent didn’t deny it.
For the first time, the two of them were not speaking as employer and maid. They were looking at the same dark shape from different sides.
“What do you want me to do?” Nora asked.
Vincent considered his answer.
“I want you to stay away from Peter Sloane.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s an order.”
“And if he knows something about Daniel?”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“You could be putting yourself in danger.”
“I’ve been in danger before. It just didn’t come with a security team.”
He wanted to forbid her from investigating. He wanted to place guards around her and tell himself that was protection.
Instead, he remembered her words.
You stopped owning rooms because you stopped showing up.
“Rocco will arrange a secure meeting with Daniel’s attorney,” he said. “No one approaches Peter alone. If you remember anything else, you tell me.”
Nora nodded slowly.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet.”
She reached the door.
“Nora.”
“Yes?”
“If Peter comes near you again, you call me.”
She studied him.
“Because I work for you?”
“No.”
Vincent looked down at the photograph.
“Because I don’t want another person paying for what happened to me.”
For a moment, Nora’s expression softened.
Then her phone rang.
It was the rehabilitation center.
She answered, listened, and went completely still.
“What do you mean he left?” she whispered.
Vincent watched her face change.
When she ended the call, she could barely speak.
May you like
“Daniel is missing.”
And the security footage showed that the last person who entered his room was Marcus Dane.
