Chapter 3 - The Photograph
The photograph changed everything.
I had believed I accidentally collided with Roman.
Now someone had been watching me before that night.
“Describe it.”
Roman hesitated.
“Claire—”
“Describe the photograph.”
“You’re leaving your building. Blue coat. Cane in your right hand.”
“When?”
“Three weeks ago.”
Marco added, “There are more.”
“How many?”
“Eleven.”
My stomach turned.
“Someone followed me eleven times?”
“At least.”
Roman stood.
“Marco, check her apartment.”
“No.”
Both men stopped.
I faced Roman.
“You promised I could go home.”
“When this is finished.”
“I want to know why someone was watching me.”
“So do I.”
“Then stop treating me like luggage.”
Roman said nothing.
I stepped closer.
“If I’m part of this, I get answers.”
Finally:
“Agreed.”
Marco’s investigation uncovered the connection that afternoon.
My father.
Daniel Bennett.
He had died seven years earlier.
At least, that was what I had believed.
Marco placed a folder on the table.
“Your father worked as an accountant.”
“Yes.”
“For Calder Freight.”
I frowned.
“I’ve never heard that name.”
Roman had.
His chair scraped backward.
“When?”
“Eight years ago,” Marco said.
Roman swore.
“What?”
Roman answered.
“Calder Freight laundered money for several criminal organizations.”
Including his own family.
My father had discovered that a DeLuca lieutenant named Victor Sanz was stealing millions while secretly selling information to a rival organization.
Then my father disappeared.
The police called it a presumed drowning.
No body was found.
I gripped the table.
“You’re telling me my father worked for criminals?”
Roman’s voice was quiet.
“I’m telling you he discovered one.”
“And you knew him?”
“No.”
“Your family did.”
“Yes.”
I stood.
“Take me home.”
“Claire.”
“Now.”
Roman approached.
I heard his steps stop several feet away.
“I won’t defend what my family was.”
“What you are.”
Silence.
“That too,” he admitted.
I had expected denial.
Instead, Roman said, “But your father tried to expose Victor. That may be why you’re being watched.”
“Seven years later?”
Marco interrupted.
“There’s something else.”
He opened another file.
“Daniel Bennett left evidence somewhere before he disappeared.”
“What evidence?”
“A ledger.”
Roman said, “Enough to destroy Victor and everyone working with him.”
“And Victor thinks I have it?”
“Probably.”
I laughed bitterly.
“I don’t.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Roman said. “He believes you might.”
My phone rang.
Lena.
I answered immediately.
“Lena?”
Someone breathed into the phone.
Not my sister.
A man.
“Claire Bennett.”
My blood turned cold.
Roman heard the change in my breathing.
He moved closer.
“Who is this?”
The voice replied:
“Ask Roman DeLuca what his father did to yours.”
Then the call ended.
I turned toward Roman.
“What did your father do?”
Roman didn’t answer.
“Roman.”
Marco said quietly, “Boss…”
“Leave.”
Marco left.
Roman closed the door.
Then he told me.
“My father ordered Daniel Bennett brought in for questioning.”
My knees weakened.
“Did he kill him?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because Daniel escaped.”
I stared into darkness.
“Then what happened?”
“I don’t know.”
“Not good enough.”
“It’s the truth.”
I heard Roman step closer.
“My father died four years ago. Victor disappeared shortly afterward. I thought the old war was finished.”
“It isn’t.”
“No.”
The phone rang again.
This time Roman answered.
“Victor.”
A man laughed through the speaker.
“Still difficult to kill, Roman.”
“Where is Lena?”
My heart stopped.
Roman’s face must have changed because Marco burst back into the room.
Victor laughed again.
“She’s safe. For now.”
I grabbed Roman’s sleeve.
“Give me the phone.”
“No.”
“Roman.”
I held out my hand.
He gave it to me.
“Victor?”
“Well. The famous Claire.”
“What do you want?”
“Something your father left you.”
“I don’t have anything.”
“You do. You simply don’t know it.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Let my sister go.”
“Bring me Daniel Bennett’s ledger.”
“I don’t know where it is.”
Victor’s next words changed everything.
“Then perhaps you should remember why your father gave a blind girl a music box.”
The line went dead.
I stopped breathing.
Roman noticed.
“What?”
I whispered:
May you like
“The music box is in my apartment.”
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