Chapter 12 - THE HOUSE BENEATH THE THUNDER|
The childhood house stood at the end of a quiet street lined with old trees. Its white paint had faded, and the porch sagged slightly, but the blue front door remained exactly as Donatella remembered it.
She stared through the windshield.
"I haven't been here since my mother's funeral."
Ettore parked two houses away.
"Raffaele owns it through a property company. The current occupant is a caretaker who visits twice a week."
"Then we shouldn't break in."
"We won't. Marco has obtained the public maintenance records. The property is scheduled for inspection tomorrow morning, and the caretaker gave us permission to examine a suspected water leak in the basement."
Donatella glanced at him.
"That sounds suspiciously legal."
"I occasionally surprise people."
They approached the house with Marco and two security officers. The caretaker, an elderly man named Mr. Harlan, met them at the door and confirmed that a pipe had been leaking beneath the kitchen sink. He seemed unaware of the property's ownership history and was happy to let them inspect the damage.
Inside, the house smelled of dust and old wood.
Donatella walked slowly through the living room. She remembered her mother humming while washing dishes, her father repairing a broken lamp, and the sound of rain hitting the roof while they sat together beneath a blanket.
She stopped at the staircase.
"Here."
She knelt beside the cupboard beneath the lowest step. The door was painted over, and the small brass handle had nearly disappeared beneath layers of white paint.
Ettore crouched beside her.
"Do you want me to open it?"
"No. I want to."
She found a butter knife in the kitchen and carefully worked the handle free. The cupboard opened with a faint creak.
Inside lay an old flashlight, a folded blanket, a child's drawing, and a tin box decorated with bluebirds.
Donatella recognized the box immediately.
Her mother had used it to store birthday candles and small keepsakes.
She opened it.
Beneath the drawing lay a cassette tape wrapped in waxed paper. A note was attached to it in Isabella's handwriting.
When the thunder stops, listen carefully.
Donatella's fingers trembled.
They carried the tape to the kitchen, where Marco produced a portable cassette player. The recording began with the sound of rain, followed by Isabella's voice singing the bluebird lullaby.
The final line was different.
When the bluebird comes home, follow the river where the old bells ring.
Donatella repeated the words under her breath.
Ettore examined the tape.
"There's more."
After the lullaby, a man's voice began speaking. It was Salvatore Moretti again, but this time he sounded stronger.
"Raffaele, I know about the false transfers. I know about the forged signatures. I also know you arranged the accident. If you're hearing this, Isabella has preserved the proof."
Raffaele's recorded voice answered.
"You have no idea how much I've sacrificed for this family."
"You sacrificed other people's lives to protect your greed."
The recording continued. Salvatore explained that the final records had been placed in a bell tower beside a river, inside a metal box hidden behind a loose stone. The location was not named, but Donatella recognized the description.
"The old bells," she whispered. "Saint Matthew's Church."
Her mother had taken her there every Sunday when she was small. The church stood beside the Missouri River, its bell tower visible from the bridge.
Ettore looked toward the window.
"We leave now."
But before they could move, Mr. Harlan appeared in the kitchen doorway, pale and trembling.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know they would come this soon."
A heavy vehicle stopped outside.
Headlights flooded the windows.
Several men climbed out, and one of them carried a metal case.
Raffaele's voice rang through the front door.
"Ettore! Donatella! I know you're in there."
Ettore drew his weapon but kept it pointed toward the floor.
"Everyone stay behind me."
Raffaele knocked once.
Then he spoke a sentence that made Donatella's blood run cold.
"Open the door, or I'll have the caretaker explain what happened to your mother."
Mr. Harlan began to cry.
Donatella turned toward him.
"You knew my mother?"
May you like
He nodded miserably.
"I was the driver the night she disappeared."
