Chapter 8 - A Fire Nobody Could Bury Twice
Norah slept for less than three hours at the temporary apartment arranged for Mae through the investigation's victim-support contacts. When she woke, she found her aunt making coffee and staring at the television. The morning news carried blurred footage of the Moretti gate, a photograph of Salvatore in his wheelchair, and a headline asking whether a nurse had invented an organized-crime scandal to extort a wealthy family.
Mae clicked off the screen. “Your grandmother would've broken that television.”
“She couldn't afford to.”
“No,” Mae said. “She would've threatened to, then made me look up the station's phone number.”
Norah laughed despite herself. She needed the ordinary sound of it. A few hours later, her agency's investigator called and requested a formal interview. Norah supplied her dated care notes, the names of the supervising physicians, and the incident number concerning the unidentified medication. Dr. Shah independently confirmed the unauthorized dose discrepancy. Barbara Ellis apologized for the public leak without promising an outcome before the review concluded.
“You don't owe me a premature apology,” Norah said. “You owe me a process that doesn't bend for money.”
Meanwhile, Dominic met with the forensic accountants, a new outside lawyer, and representatives of the employee health fund. The missing reserves were real. Some had financed Matteo's waterfront clinic and shell companies; some had been used to make political donations through intermediaries. Investigators would determine whether those donations were lawful. Dominic's signatures appeared on renewals, though the diversion entries bore Matteo's authorization. He gave up access to the accounts and authorized the company to make workers whole from remaining unrestricted assets under independent supervision.
He could not fix twenty-one years in a meeting. He could stop letting another day pass without documents being preserved.
The insurer's copy of the fire report changed the investigation. The original inspector had recorded a damaged lock mechanism and traces of accelerant near the side entrance. His supervisor had ordered the language softened before publication, citing an inconclusive laboratory result. A handwritten marginal note stated: “Further review discouraged following discussion with S. Moretti.”
Dominic stared at the note. His father's initials had protected Matteo once. They might protect him again if the old man refused to speak plainly.
But Salvatore did not refuse. With attorney Kim and Claire Bennett present, he acknowledged that he'd pressured the investigation to avoid exposure of the counterfeit medicines. He had not personally ordered the fire, he said, but he had concealed the evidence afterward. He insisted that his son had been a child and knew nothing about the operation at the time. Kim ensured that every answer was recorded with the actual question and method of communication, rather than transformed into a polished speech he could never have delivered.
When Dominic arrived that afternoon, Salvatore looked toward the empty chair that had belonged to Sofia. He selected a sentence on his board, letter by letter: I MADE YOU LIVE IN MY LIE.
Dominic read it and stood motionless. “Yes,” he said finally. “You did.”
There was no embrace. For them, admitting the truth was the first moment of peace available.
At four o'clock, Frank received a call from a former harbor guard. Matteo had gone to the disused clinic and ordered its paper records removed before the investigators could execute a search warrant. Frank passed the information to Ortiz, who said a team was already moving. He did not send Moretti men to settle the matter.
Norah was at Mae's apartment when the next call came. It was Evelyn, speaking so fast the words ran together. “I'm across the street from that clinic. The old sign is still there. Peter took me here once. I saw men hauling boxes, and now there's smoke.”
“Get away from the building,” Norah said. “Call 911. Do not go inside.”
“I think there's somebody at the upstairs window.”
Norah put Evelyn on speaker with Ortiz and the emergency dispatcher. Sirens became audible through Evelyn's phone. A fire engine reached the street. An employee, trapped by smoke behind a jammed security door, signaled from the second floor. Firefighters raised a ladder and brought him down. Evelyn stayed behind the safety line, shaking so badly she dropped her phone when she saw him emerge.
The injured employee was Leo Marsh's cousin, a maintenance worker hired for the afternoon. He told investigators that Matteo's associate had poured liquid along the ground-floor storage corridor and ordered the workers to leave. He'd been upstairs disconnecting a security panel and had not heard the warning. The statement needed corroboration, but the fire crews recovered surveillance equipment and several boxes from an exterior loading bay before the building was fully involved.
Norah had no business running into a burning clinic. She stayed on the phone with Evelyn until emergency responders took over, then drove with Mae to the hospital where the worker was being evaluated. She did not enter his care area or treat him without authorization. She simply found Evelyn in the waiting room and sat beside her.
“I wanted to go in,” Evelyn whispered. “For a second I thought Peter might still be in there.”
Norah held out a paper cup of water. “You helped get somebody out by calling for help.”
“I watched my brother die twenty-one years ago. I couldn't do it again.”
“You didn't.”
At the clinic scene, investigators found something Matteo had overlooked. The digital backup server wasn't in the burning main building. It was housed inside a weatherproof enclosure behind the lot, where the utility company had moved it two months earlier. The records showed recent payments to Kessler and the transport company connected to Anika's abduction. They also showed that Beth's unauthorized medication orders had originated from Matteo's private office.
By nightfall, an arrest warrant had been issued for Matteo on charges connected to the recent threats, abduction, and financial scheme. Investigators were still building the historical fire case. Matteo was nowhere to be found.
At 10:17 p.m., Dominic received a call from an unlisted number. His old mentor's voice came across the line, infuriatingly calm.
“You've ruined everything your father built.”
Dominic looked at the photograph of his mother on the desk. “No. I'm finally looking at what he built.”
“You think the police will protect you when they learn what you signed?”
“They can read all of it.”
Silence. Then Matteo said, “Ask your father whether he ever told you who ordered the door locked.”
“He says he doesn't know.”
“He's lying about one last thing.”
May you like
The line went dead. A message followed: MIDNIGHT. THE ORIGINAL SECURITY LOG. COME TO THE OLD FERRY TERMINAL.
Dominic forwarded the message to Ortiz without replying. But when he went upstairs to tell his father, Salvatore was already awake, staring at a photograph of the ferry terminal that nobody remembered giving him.
