Chapter 4 - THE RED LEDGER BENEATH THE ANGEL
Elra reached St. Jude’s twenty-two minutes later.
Lorenzo came with her.
She had not asked him to.
She also had not told him not to.
Two Chicago police officers met them outside her mother’s oncology floor.
The photograph had been taken less than an hour earlier.
Security footage showed a man dressed as hospital maintenance entering through a loading dock with false credentials.
He left before the alert went out.
Elra found her mother asleep.
Safe.
Thin.
Pale.
Alive.
She sat beside the bed and held her hand.
Lorenzo remained outside the room.
That mattered.
Her mother woke after several minutes.
“Elra?”
“I’m here.”
“Why are you crying?”
“I’m not.”
“You were a terrible liar at six.”
“I’ve improved.”
“No.”
Elra laughed through tears.
Her mother looked toward the doorway.
“Who’s the handsome undertaker?”
Elra turned.
Lorenzo stood outside in black.
She nearly choked.
“Mama.”
“What?”
“That’s my employer’s client.”
Lorenzo raised one eyebrow from the hall.
Her mother smiled.
“He hears well.”
Unfortunately.
Elra explained only enough.
There had been a security issue.
Someone connected to a guest.
Police would stay nearby.
Her mother studied her.
“You’re in trouble.”
“No.”
“Elra.”
“I’m handling it.”
“Your father used to say that before every bad decision.”
Her throat tightened.
Her father had died seven years earlier.
Heart attack.
No mystery.
Just loss.
“I’m okay.”
Her mother squeezed her fingers.
“Then don’t become brave in stupid ways.”
That sentence followed Elra out of the room.
Lorenzo waited near the elevators.
“She’s funny.”
“Do not encourage her.”
“I said six words.”
“Too many.”
His mouth almost moved.
Then Rocco called.
The cemetery had been breached.
Fresh footprints.
One crypt door scratched.
Lorenzo’s brother’s grave.
They drove there before dawn with police.
Elra protested only once.
“This has nothing to do with me now.”
Lorenzo looked at her phone.
The threat against her mother.
“It does.”
Fair.
St. Michael’s Cemetery sat beneath bare December trees.
Snow had started.
Small dry flakes.
The Moretti mausoleum stood at the top of a hill.
Stone angel above the entrance.
One wing spread.
The other lowered.
Leo’s words echoed.
Find the angel.
Rocco inspected the base.
“Fresh tool marks.”
Lorenzo knelt.
One marble panel had been shifted.
Behind it was a narrow cavity.
Empty.
Everyone stared.
“Too late,” Rocco said.
Elra looked closer.
“No.”
Lorenzo turned.
“What?”
“Dust.”
“What about it?”
“The cavity is dusty.”
Rocco crouched.
Elra pointed.
“But the bottom isn’t scraped.”
“If someone pulled out a book—”
“There would be marks.”
Lorenzo understood.
“The compartment was always empty.”
“Or it wasn’t the hiding place.”
Elra looked up.
Stone angel.
Find the angel.
Not under the angel.
She walked around the monument.
On the back of the statue was a carved inscription:
THEY SHALL BEAR WITNESS.
Below it, one brass screw looked newer than the others.
Rocco touched it.
The panel came loose.
Inside:
A red leather ledger.
Lorenzo stared.
For a moment he looked almost sick.
His brother’s handwriting filled the first page.
Dates.
Names.
Amounts.
Elra saw one name repeated.
THORNE.
Victor Thorne.
Isabella’s father.
Another:
BELLINI.
Marco Bellini.
Lorenzo’s adviser.
Elra’s stomach dropped.
“Your man?”
Rocco’s face hardened.
“Marco has worked for this family eighteen years.”
Lorenzo flipped pages.
Payments.
Weapons routes.
Real-estate fronts.
But another set of entries appeared in his brother’s handwriting.
THORNE / BELLINI — unauthorized transfers.
THORNE demanding access to Chicago ports.
BELLINI giving schedules.
Then one final note.
If anything happens to me, do not let Lorenzo marry into Thorne.
Elra stopped breathing.
Lorenzo read the sentence twice.
His brother died two years earlier.
Shot outside a restaurant.
The murder had been blamed on a South Side rival.
Maybe wrong.
He turned the page.
A photograph fell out.
Victor Thorne.
Marco Bellini.
And a third man.
The man from hospital surveillance.
Elra recognized the maintenance disguise.
“That’s him.”
Lorenzo looked.
“Who?”
“The man who photographed my mother.”
Rocco took the image.
“I know him.”
“Name?”
“Derek Vale.”
Elra’s stomach tightened at the surname, but unrelated.
“Thorne enforcer.”
Lorenzo closed the ledger.
“Marco.”
Rocco shook his head.
“Could be his father.”
“Dates are current.”
Silence.
Marco Bellini had called Lorenzo twice during dinner for years.
He knew security.
Schedules.
Where the children slept.
Where Elra’s mother was hospitalized if he accessed staff files.
Lorenzo took out his phone.
Called.
Marco answered immediately.
“Boss.”
“Where are you?”
“Office.”
“Come to St. Michael’s.”
A pause.
“Why?”
Lorenzo’s eyes changed.
He heard it.
The hesitation.
“Because I asked.”
Marco arrived thirty minutes later.
Alone.
No coat despite snow.
He entered the mausoleum.
Saw Elra.
Saw Rocco.
Then the red ledger.
His face changed.
Barely.
Enough.
Lorenzo watched.
“My brother kept records.”
Marco smiled.
“Apparently.”
“You knew?”
“No.”
“What was his concern with Thorne?”
“Your brother had many concerns.”
“Answer.”
Marco looked at the ledger.
“Victor wanted Chicago access.”
“And you gave it?”
“No.”
Lorenzo opened to the photograph.
Placed it on the stone bench.
Marco looked.
Then laughed softly.
“That proves I knew Victor.”
“It proves you met privately.”
“I meet everyone privately.”
Rocco said:
“Derek Vale threatened Elra’s mother.”
Marco’s gaze shifted to her.
Too quickly.
Elra saw it.
Recognition.
“You know me,” she said.
He smiled.
“You served the party.”
“No.”
She stepped closer.
“You knew my name before tonight.”
His smile thinned.
Lorenzo turned.
“Did you access staff records?”
Marco said nothing.
“Marco.”
Still nothing.
Then gunfire cracked outside.
Stone chipped from the mausoleum entrance.
Rocco shoved Elra down.
Lorenzo drew a weapon.
More shots.
Marco moved.
Not away from the door.
Toward the red ledger.
Elra saw first.
“He’s taking it!”
Rocco tackled him.
The ledger fell.
Marco punched Rocco.
Lorenzo turned his gun toward him.
“Stop.”
Marco froze.
Outside, security returned fire.
A vehicle sped away.
Marco stood slowly.
Lorenzo stared at the man he had trusted for eighteen years.
“You brought them here.”
Marco smiled.
“Did I?”
“You asked why I wanted you at the cemetery.”
“Natural question.”
“You came without security.”
“You told me alone.”
“I didn't.”
Marco’s smile disappeared.
There.
Lorenzo had caught him.
He had never said alone.
Marco had known what kind of meeting this was.
Known enough to plan for violence.
Lorenzo’s voice became quiet.
“My brother trusted you.”
Marco laughed.
“Your brother was weak.”
Rocco raised his gun.
Lorenzo lowered it with one hand.
“Not here.”
Marco looked at Elra.
Then smiled.
“The waitress did all this.”
Elra’s skin crawled.
“You did it.”
His eyes sharpened.
“You should have stayed invisible.”
Same words as the text.
Lorenzo moved so quickly Elra barely saw it.
He grabbed Marco by the collar and slammed him against the stone wall.
But he did not hit him.
Did not shoot.
He leaned close.
“If anyone goes near her mother again, I give every page of that ledger to federal prosecutors before sunrise.”
Marco’s face changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
Lorenzo released him.
Rocco cuffed Marco.
Police took custody after seeing the evidence tied to the cemetery attack.
As they led him away, Marco looked at Lorenzo.
“You think Victor Thorne will let you expose him?”
Lorenzo said nothing.
Marco smiled.
“Ask Isabella why she really wanted the children gone.”
Elra stared.
Gone?
Not frightened.
Not controlled.
Gone.
Lorenzo stepped forward.
“What does that mean?”
Marco laughed as officers moved him away.
“You’ve been worried about a freezer.”
May you like
He looked back once.
“You should be worried about the will.”
