Chapter 6 - The Brother I Buried
Luca looked older than the man I'd buried in my memory.
His hair had silver at the temples.
A scar crossed his left cheek.
But his smile remained exactly the same.
Arrogant.
Amused.
Infuriating.
I entered the boathouse alone.
He stood beside an old sailing boat our father bought when we were boys.
“Vinny.”
Nobody called me that anymore.
“Luca.”
He looked at my gun.
“Warm reunion.”
“You've had eight years to prepare something better.”
He smiled.
“Fair.”
I pointed the weapon at his chest.
“Give me one reason.”
“To not shoot me?”
“Yes.”
“Because Matteo will eventually ask why his uncle survived one murder attempt only to get killed by his father.”
My finger tightened.
“You don't get to use my son.”
“I'm not.”
“You entered my house.”
“I met Elena in the garage.”
“You frightened my son.”
“I didn't know he was there.”
“You built a network around my family.”
“That part's complicated.”
“Make it simple.”
Luca's smile disappeared.
“Our father started it.”
I nearly laughed.
“Convenient. Dead men make excellent suspects.”
“He had partnerships you never knew about.”
“What kind?”
“Pain clinics.”
The words connected instantly to Elena's video.
“Opioids.”
“Yes.”
“Did you know?”
“Not until after he died.”
“And you continued it?”
“For two years.”
At least he admitted it.
“Then?”
“I tried to get out.”
“You expect forgiveness?”
“No.”
That answer sounded like a Rossi.
Luca stepped toward a workbench.
I raised the gun.
“Slowly.”
He placed a folder on the wood.
“Gabriel Shaw took over the medical network after Dad died.”
My attorney.
“He used Rossi logistics companies to move illegal fentanyl shipments between legitimate medical facilities,” Luca said. “Most people involved believed they were transporting approved medications.”
“And the money?”
“Cleaned through charitable foundations.”
“Elena found it.”
“Yes.”
“Daniel Hayes found it.”
“Yes.”
“Gabriel killed him.”
Luca's jaw tightened.
“I believe so.”
“And Elena?”
He looked away.
“You know more than you're saying.”
“I didn't order the bomb.”
“Marcus said that.”
“Marcus is alive?”
“For now.”
Luca exhaled.
“That's unfortunate.”
“For him?”
“For everyone.”
“Why?”
“Because Marcus changes sides whenever somebody offers him tomorrow.”
I stepped closer.
“Who changed the bomb timer?”
“I don't know.”
“Try again.”
“I don't know, Vincent.”
His voice rose for the first time.
“If I knew who killed Elena, do you think I'd be standing here having a family therapy session?”
That surprised me.
“You cared about her?”
He laughed sadly.
“She was the only person in this family who still spoke to me like I was human.”
I lowered the gun slightly.
He continued.
“Elena called me because she thought Gabriel was planning something against you. I came to the estate. We argued because I wanted her and Matteo to leave.”
“She refused.”
“She said she wouldn't abandon you.”
Of course she did.
Luca looked toward the dark water.
“She believed there was evidence inside the house.”
“What evidence?”
“A ledger your father kept.”
“My father didn't keep ledgers.”
“He kept one.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
I raised the gun again.
“Elena thought Matteo knew.”
My blood went cold.
“Why would an eight-year-old know?”
“Because children notice things adults stop seeing.”
I remembered Matteo's sudden fear of the silver key.
The garage.
Luca.
“Elena said your father used to hide things inside objects no one would steal.”
That sounded like him.
Paintings.
Books.
Furniture.
I thought of the mansion.
Hundreds of rooms.
Thousands of objects.
Luca handed me the folder.
Inside were photographs of Gabriel meeting with executives from Norwell.
Bank records.
Shipping routes.
Federal contract numbers.
And one image that made me stop.
Gabriel stood beside Marcus.
Taken ten months after Elena died.
“So Marcus works for Gabriel.”
“Sometimes.”
“Why come back now?”
Luca's expression changed.
“Because Gabriel knows Clara is here.”
My heart kicked.
“How?”
“I don't know.”
I called Dominic immediately.
No answer.
I called the house.
No answer.
Then Clara.
She picked up on the second ring.
“Vincent?”
“Where are you?”
“Matteo's room.”
“Lock the door.”
“What happened?”
“Lock it now.”
I heard movement.
A click.
“Done.”
“Stay away from the windows.”
“Vincent—”
The call died.
I ran.
Luca followed.
I didn't tell him to.
I didn't stop him either.
By the time we reached the mansion, the west wing alarms were sounding.
Smoke filled the upper hallway.
Not fire.
A diversion.
Dominic met us near the stairs.
He saw Luca.
Stopped.
“Later,” I snapped. “Where's Matteo?”
“Bedroom.”
“Clara?”
“With him.”
We reached the door.
Locked.
I knocked.
“Clara.”
Nothing.
“Clara!”
The lock opened.
She stood inside holding the fireplace poker again.
“You really need a gun,” Luca said.
Clara stared at him.
“Is that—”
“Yes,” I said. “Later.”
Matteo saw Luca.
His face drained.
Luca stepped backward.
“Hey, kid.”
Matteo whispered, “Garage.”
“I know.”
Clara suddenly turned toward the window.
“Did you hear that?”
A soft mechanical click.
Dominic shouted.
“Down!”
The window exploded inward.
I threw myself over Matteo.
Clara dropped beside us.
A second shot hit the wall.
Dominic fired toward the trees outside.
Guards flooded the lawn.
Then silence.
My body covered Matteo's wheelchair.
“You hit?”
“No.”
“Clara?”
“I'm okay.”
Luca stood near the broken window, blood on his sleeve.
“You?”
“Glass.”
Not a bullet.
Good.
Dominic looked at the impact mark in the wall.
“That wasn't meant for Vincent.”
I followed his eyes.
The bullet had struck directly behind Clara's head.
She went pale.
Luca stared at her.
Then said something none of us expected.
“They're not trying to stop Vincent anymore.”
He looked at Clara.
“They're trying to stop her.”
“Why?” Clara whispered.
Luca's eyes dropped to her old leather bag.
“Because Daniel gave you something before he died.”
Clara shook her head.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, he didn't.”
“Think.”
She looked confused.
Then frightened.
“My mother.”
“What about her?”
“Daniel left a box at her house.”
“When?”
“The week before he died.”
My voice sharpened.
“Where is it now?”
May you like
Clara looked at me.
“In a storage unit in Worcester.”
