Chapter 4 - The Husband I Watched Die Twice
I watched the seven-second clip eighteen times.
Each time I convinced myself the man was David.
Each time the gun appeared.
Each time the screen went black.
The nineteenth time, Alessandro took the phone from my hand.
“Enough.”
“Give it back.”
“No.”
“Give me the phone.”
“You're torturing yourself.”
“I buried him once. I can watch seven seconds.”
Logan sat on the couch eating cereal from a plastic cup. Samantha, the nurse who had followed us from the hospital, had volunteered to stay with him. I didn't trust easily anymore, but Samantha had nothing to gain and plenty to lose.
Alessandro was supposed to be back in a hospital.
Instead, a private physician stitched and dressed him at the apartment.
“You're coming?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“You can barely stand.”
“I can stand long enough.”
“Why?”
His answer surprised me.
“Because if David is alive, I owe him.”
“That isn't enough.”
“No.”
He looked at Logan.
“And because your son climbed onto a dead man's chest and apparently decided I wasn't finished yet.”
“You weren't dead.”
“My cardiologist might debate that.”
“Doctors already did.”
A faint smile.
Then gone.
We left Logan with Samantha, six guards, and strict instructions.
I knelt.
“Mommy has to go somewhere.”
“Find Daddy?”
My heart stopped.
I had never told him.
Children hear more than adults realize.
“Maybe.”
“Bring him home.”
No pressure.
I kissed him.
“I'll try.”
The drive to the Eastern Shore took a little over an hour.
Police were not involved yet because Alessandro insisted the coordinates might lead to evidence that could disappear if local corruption reached DeLuca.
I hated that argument.
I hated more that it made sense.
But Enzo had contacted a federal investigator Alessandro trusted and shared our route. That was the compromise.
The marina had been abandoned after hurricane damage.
Broken docks.
Empty storage buildings.
Rusting fuel pumps.
Rain tapped against metal roofs.
We found blood near the entrance of a warehouse.
Not much.
Enough.
My legs weakened.
Enzo touched my shoulder.
“Stay behind us.”
“No.”
“Catherine.”
“No.”
Alessandro looked at him.
“She'll ignore you.”
“Thank you.”
“It wasn't admiration.”
We entered.
Dark.
Smell of salt, oil, damp wood.
Then a noise.
Metal scraping.
Enzo raised his weapon.
“David?”
I said his name before anybody could stop me.
Silence.
Then:
“Cat?”
The world ended.
And began again.
A man stepped from behind stacked crates.
Beard.
Gray at the temples.
Thin.
Blood soaking one sleeve.
David.
My husband.
Alive.
He looked at me.
I looked at him.
Two years of grief, rent notices, sleepless nights, birthday parties without a father, and lies stood between us.
His eyes filled.
“Catherine.”
I crossed the warehouse.
Then slapped him.
Hard.
Enzo looked away.
Alessandro did not.
David touched his cheek.
“I deserved that.”
I slapped him again.
“You think?”
“Probably that too.”
Then I hit his chest with both fists.
Not to hurt him.
Because I had nowhere else to put what I felt.
“You were alive!”
“I know.”
“I buried you!”
“I know.”
“I told Logan his father was in heaven!”
His face broke.
“I know.”
“No, you don't!”
I shoved him.
“You don't know what he asked me every Father's Day. You don't know how many times I pretended I wasn't terrified because I couldn't pay rent. You don't know what it felt like washing your coffee mug six months after you died because I couldn't put it away.”
David cried.
“I wanted to come home.”
“Then why didn't you?”
“Because they watched you.”
“Who?”
“DeLuca.”
Alessandro stepped forward.
“Where is Silas?”
David’s eyes hardened.
“Close.”
“You saw him?”
“He's the one who shot at me outside.”
“Why are you still alive?”
“He missed.”
“Remarkable.”
“Still arrogant, I see.”
“Still difficult.”
The familiarity between them angered me.
“You two can reminisce after somebody explains my life.”
David nodded.
He sat against a crate.
I noticed the blood.
“You're hurt.”
“Grazed.”
“Sit still.”
Habit took over before anger.
I pressed cloth against the wound.
David looked at me.
“I missed you.”
“Don't.”
“I did.”
“You don't get to say romantic things while I'm deciding whether to hit you again.”
“Fair.”
He almost smiled.
It made me angrier because I remembered loving that smile.
Alessandro asked, “Why didn't you contact me?”
“My federal handler was compromised.”
My hands stopped.
“Federal?”
David looked at me.
“Another thing.”
“Of course.”
He had agreed to cooperate with a federal organized-crime task force after discovering DeLuca's hospital network. Not against Alessandro at first, he insisted, but against laundering and counterfeit medical-supply operations connected to several crime families.
“Your husband informed on criminals,” Alessandro said.
David looked at him.
“You say that as though you aren't one.”
“I’m evolving.”
“This week?”
“Difficult week.”
I stared at both.
“Focus.”
David explained that his staged death was supposed to last only long enough for DeLuca to believe the evidence had disappeared.
Then his handler, Agent Martin Voss, suddenly stopped responding.
David discovered Voss had been taking money from DeLuca.
If David returned home, Voss would know immediately.
So David disappeared even from Alessandro.
“For two years?” I whispered.
“I kept monitoring you.”
“That is not comforting.”
“I made sure rent money reached accounts anonymously twice.”
I remembered two mysterious credits.
I had thought they were bank errors.
“That was you?”
“Yes.”
“You watched us struggle and sent two payments?”
“I couldn't send more without creating a trail.”
“You could have found another way.”
“I know.”
There was no defense in his voice.
That mattered slightly.
Not enough.
David continued.
DeLuca's network had grown. Hospital procurement fraud was only one part. He used stolen medical inventory, fake vendors, and shell corporations to fund a plan to remove Alessandro and take control of the Romano organization.
“The ambush tonight?” Alessandro asked.
“DeLuca.”
“Marla?”
“His inside contact.”
“And Voss?”
“Still protecting him.”
I asked, “Why did Marla meet you nine months after your death?”
David looked ashamed.
“She tried to help me.”
“What?”
“She worked for DeLuca at first because he paid her brother’s gambling debt. She later wanted out.”
“She threatened my job.”
“She had to keep you close.”
“That sounds convenient.”
“She also kept changing your schedule so DeLuca’s men never knew exactly when you worked.”
I remembered dozens of infuriating last-minute schedule changes.
Was that protection?
Or manipulation?
Both could be true.
Then Alessandro asked, “What is on Captain Bear’s drive besides the video?”
David’s eyes widened.
“You found it.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
“What else?”
“Enough financial records to destroy DeLuca.”
“Then why hasn't he run?”
“Because there is a second key.”
“What key?”
David looked at me.
“Catherine has it.”
I stared.
“I have nothing.”
“Yes, you do.”
“What?”
“Our wedding photograph.”
“Which one?”
“The one with your mother laughing in the background.”
My stomach dropped.
It sat inside my bedroom drawer.
At our apartment.
David continued.
“The digital decryption phrase is written behind the photograph.”
Alessandro cursed.
“If DeLuca knows that—”
My phone rang.
Samantha.
I answered instantly.
“Logan?”
“He’s safe.”
I breathed again.
“But Catherine…”
“What?”
“Someone broke into your apartment twenty minutes ago.”
My knees weakened.
“What did they take?”
“Police say only one thing appears missing.”
I already knew.
“The photograph.”
“Yes.”
David closed his eyes.
May you like
DeLuca now possessed the second half of the key.
And every secret David had spent two years trying to protect was about to open.
