Chapter 2 - THE SECOND THING EMMA SAW
At 1:16 in the morning, Alessandro Moretti was still staring at the painting.
Marco stood near the window.
Emma had gone downstairs almost two hours earlier with her mother, Nora Bennett, one of Greystone’s senior housekeepers. Alessandro had ordered both of them moved into a private guest suite for the night.
Nora had protested.
“We live in the staff residence.”
“Not tonight.”
“Why?”
Because somebody had planted a listening device in the most secure office in the estate.
Because Emma had seen Isabella do it.
Because if Isabella had been acting under instructions, then whoever had given those instructions might eventually learn a six-year-old had witnessed her.
Alessandro had not told Nora any of that.
Not yet.
He had said only:
“Humor me.”
She had looked at him as if powerful men asking women to humor them had rarely ended well.
He respected the suspicion.
Now Marco stood over the bug with a magnifying lens.
“Short-range transmitter.”
“How short?”
“Maybe three hundred yards inside a building. Farther with a relay.”
“Meaning?”
“Someone nearby has been receiving it.”
Alessandro turned toward the rain-black windows.
Greystone sat on eleven acres.
Guesthouses.
Garages.
Security buildings.
Gardener’s cottage.
Staff residences.
A dozen possible places to hide a receiver.
“Can we track it?”
“Not while it’s off.”
Alessandro looked at the device.
“Turn it back on.”
Marco raised an eyebrow.
“You want them listening?”
“I want them believing Isabella still owns my office.”
That was the beginning of the trap.
At seven the next morning, Alessandro called Emma back upstairs.
Nora came with her.
That was not negotiable.
Emma wore yellow leggings and carried the same small notebook from the previous evening.
She stopped beside Alessandro’s desk.
He crouched.
“Emma, I’m going to ask you about yesterday again.”
Nora tensed.
Alessandro noticed.
“If she doesn’t want to answer, she doesn’t.”
That helped slightly.
Emma nodded.
“I want.”
“Good.”
He showed her no photographs.
No leading questions.
“What happened after Miss Isabella left my office?”
Emma thought.
“I looked for blue pencil.”
“Yes.”
“Then I heard her.”
“Where?”
“By the stairs.”
“What was she doing?”
Emma lowered her voice.
“Crying.”
Alessandro’s eyes narrowed.
“Isabella was crying?”
“Yes.”
“Was she alone?”
Emma shook her head.
“No.”
Marco straightened.
Nora looked at her daughter.
“You never told me that.”
“You were folding towels.”
Fair.
Alessandro asked:
“Who was with her?”
Emma frowned.
“I didn’t see face.”
“What did you see?”
“Shoes.”
Marco almost smiled.
Alessandro did not.
“What kind?”
“Shiny.”
Half the men in Alessandro’s world wore polished shoes.
“Anything else?”
Emma looked at her notebook.
Then opened it.
On one page was a child’s drawing.
Two stick figures.
One had long black hair and a red coat.
Isabella.
The other was taller.
Emma had drawn a square near the figure’s wrist.
Inside the square was a black circle.
“What is this?”
Alessandro pointed.
“His button.”
“On his shirt?”
“No.”
Emma became frustrated.
“Here.”
She touched her wrist.
Marco leaned closer.
“Cuff link.”
Emma nodded enthusiastically.
“Yes.”
Alessandro looked at the drawing again.
“Black?”
“Black rock.”
Onyx.
His chest tightened.
Half a dozen men in his organization wore cuff links.
One wore black onyx almost every day because they had belonged to his father.
Enzo Moretti.
Alessandro’s cousin.
The same Enzo Isabella had casually mentioned that evening while discussing the wedding guest list.
Whether Enzo could bring someone.
Suddenly the meaningless conversation did not feel meaningless.
“Did you hear the man speak?”
Emma nodded.
“What did he say?”
She pressed her lips together, thinking.
“Something about brother.”
Isabella had one brother.
Luca Santori.
Twenty-seven.
A musician who played badly, spent recklessly, and adored his sister.
Alessandro had met him twice.
“What exactly?”
Emma whispered:
“He said, ‘You want your brother home?’”
Nobody moved.
Alessandro’s anger disappeared.
In its place came something more useful.
Understanding.
Isabella had not planted the bug because she wanted to betray him.
Someone had leverage.
Marco said quietly:
“Luca.”
Alessandro stood.
“Find him.”
“I already started.”
“Without telling me?”
“You were staring at the painting.”
Marco shrugged.
“Somebody had to work.”
Under different circumstances Alessandro might have appreciated that.
Nora touched Emma’s shoulder.
“Can we go now?”
“Yes.”
Emma looked at Alessandro.
“Was I good?”
He felt something in his chest tighten.
Children should not have to wonder whether telling the truth had been performed correctly.
“You were helpful.”
She smiled.
Then he added:
“But you don’t have to be helpful all the time.”
She seemed confused.
“That’s grown-up work.”
Emma considered.
Then nodded.
“Okay.”
When they left, Marco said:
“She’s smarter than half your captains.”
“Lower bar than you think.”
At nine thirty, they turned the bug back on.
For the next hour, Alessandro deliberately discussed false information with Marco.
A shipment ledger.
Bellport.
Friday evening.
A black accounting book supposedly being moved from Greystone to a warehouse near the marina.
There was no book.
No shipment.
No marina meeting.
But if somebody was listening, they would believe there was.
At eleven twelve, Marco’s technical team detected the signal bouncing toward the western edge of the property.
Guest cottage three.
Empty for six months.
Or supposed to be.
Security entered quietly.
They found no person.
Just a relay unit hidden inside an air vent.
From there, the signal had been forwarded through an encrypted cellular transmitter.
Marco held up the small device.
“Professional.”
“Enzo?”
“Maybe.”
Alessandro looked toward the main house.
“Too early.”
At noon, Isabella came to lunch.
White blouse.
Dark trousers.
No red coat.
She kissed Alessandro once.
“You look tired.”
“So do you.”
She smiled.
“Wedding planning.”
He watched her carefully.
There was a bruise beneath the edge of her sleeve.
Small.
Nearly hidden.
“Where’s Luca?”
Her face changed for less than a second.
“What?”
“Your brother.”
“Why?”
“I haven’t seen him lately.”
“He’s traveling.”
“Where?”
“Montreal.”
The lie came smoothly.
Too smoothly.
Alessandro nodded.
“Good.”
Isabella looked at him.
Suspicion flickered.
Then vanished.
She reached for his hand.
“I have a florist appointment at three.”
“Enzo going?”
Her fingers stopped.
“Why would Enzo go?”
“You mentioned him yesterday.”
“For the guest list.”
“Right.”
She smiled.
Then withdrew her hand.
At two forty, Marco called from the service corridor.
“We found Luca’s phone.”
“Where?”
“His apartment.”
“And Luca?”
“Gone.”
“How long?”
“Neighbor says almost three weeks.”
Exactly when Isabella’s behavior had changed.
Marco continued.
“There’s blood on the kitchen floor.”
Alessandro closed his eyes.
Not much, Marco explained.
Enough to suggest a struggle.
Then came something worse.
A security camera across the street had caught Luca being forced into a gray SUV.
The license plate was false.
But the passenger door opened briefly.
A man stepped out.
The image was blurred.
Face impossible to identify.
His wrist was not.
Black onyx cuff link.
Alessandro stared at the enlarged frame.
Enzo.
His own cousin.
The man who had eaten at his mother’s table.
Played cards with him at seventeen.
Stood beside him when his father was buried.
Marco looked at Alessandro.
“What do you want to do?”
The same question as last night.
This time Alessandro answered immediately.
“Nothing.”
Marco frowned.
“Nothing?”
“Not yet.”
He looked toward the dining room where Isabella was gathering her purse.
“If Enzo has Luca, Isabella is useful only while he thinks she’s obeying.”
“And Emma?”
Alessandro’s eyes hardened.
“He doesn’t know she saw him.”
Marco looked unconvinced.
“How sure are you?”
Alessandro turned toward the staircase.
“Not enough.”
At that exact moment, Nora screamed from the second floor.
Alessandro and Marco ran.
They found her outside the guest suite.
The door was open.
The room empty.
One of Emma’s yellow shoes lay in the hallway.
Nora looked at Alessandro with terror on her face.
“She was drawing right here.”
Marco reached for his weapon.
Alessandro picked up the little shoe.
Then he saw something tucked inside it.
A folded piece of paper.
Three words.
NO MORE WITNESSES.
Enzo already knew.
May you like
And Emma was gone.
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