Chapter 3 - The Message Aaron Left Behind
We escaped through the service stairs.
Raphael could barely walk by the time we reached the parking garage.
A black SUV appeared around the corner.
I grabbed his coat.
“Move.”
“That’s mine.”
“How do I know?”
The rear window lowered.
An older man shouted, “Raff!”
Raphael relaxed.
“Family.”
“That word isn’t reassuring anymore.”
The man helped Raphael into the SUV.
His name was Tomas Caruso.
Raphael’s uncle.
Not Victor.
The apparently non-murderous one.
Twenty minutes later, I was sitting inside a private medical clinic while a doctor treated Raphael’s injuries.
Tomas stood across from me.
“You saved my nephew?”
“I stopped him from bleeding on my clean floor.”
Raphael, from the examination table, said, “She’s very sentimental.”
“Quiet.”
Tomas laughed.
Then his expression became serious.
“Tell me about your husband.”
I told them everything.
Aaron Mercer.
Thirty-four.
Elevator technician.
The funniest man I had ever known.
Seven months earlier, police had found him beside his wrecked truck near Harbor East.
They said another vehicle had forced him off the road.
No arrests.
No answers.
Only a cardboard box containing his belongings.
I suddenly stood.
“The box.”
Raphael looked up.
“What?”
“Aaron’s things.”
I remembered something.
“There was an access panel key.”
Raphael frowned.
“What kind?”
“Small. Brass. I thought it belonged to his toolbox.”
Tomas and Raphael exchanged a look.
Raphael said, “Where is it?”
“My apartment.”
We arrived before sunrise.
My apartment was tiny.
Aaron’s photograph still stood beside the television.
Raphael stopped when he saw it.
He stared.
“You knew him.”
It wasn’t a question.
Raphael nodded.
“Once.”
My chest tightened.
“When?”
“About eight months ago.”
“You said you didn’t know who sent the message.”
“I didn’t know his name.”
Raphael looked at Aaron’s photograph.
“But I remember his face.”
“What happened?”
“He stopped me in Sterling Harbor’s parking garage.”
Raphael’s voice became quieter.
“He said, ‘Someone is using your name to bury innocent people.’ Then he walked away.”
“Why didn’t you stop him?”
“I tried.”
“And?”
“He told me if I followed him, he’d hit me with a wrench.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
That sounded exactly like Aaron.
Then I cried.
Only for a moment.
I wiped my face.
“Find the drive.”
We opened the cardboard box.
Tools.
Wallet.
Wedding ring.
Old gloves.
Brass key.
Raphael picked it up.
“This opens an elevator inspection panel.”
I looked at him.
“Aaron spent his last week repairing the freight elevator.”
Silence.
Then we both understood.
We returned to Sterling Harbor.
Police vehicles surrounded the building.
Victor’s men were gone.
Raphael’s people had secured the basement.
I walked into the same freight elevator where I had found him.
Aaron had spent thousands of hours inside elevators.
He always said people looked everywhere except above their heads.
I looked up.
There.
A small inspection plate.
Raphael lifted me onto a maintenance stool.
“Careful.”
“I’m pregnant, Raff. Not porcelain.”
“I’ve noticed.”
I inserted the brass key.
Click.
Inside was a waterproof pouch.
My hands began shaking.
A flash drive.
And an envelope.
DELIA.
I sat down on the elevator floor.
Raphael stayed silent.
I opened it.
The message was short.
Delia,
If you’re reading this, I didn’t get the chance to explain.
I found records connecting Victor Caruso to a trafficking and extortion operation hidden behind legitimate shipping contracts. I copied everything.
I tried going to the police.
Someone warned Victor.
So I hid the evidence.
I’m sorry I kept this from you.
I was trying to keep you and our baby safe.
Whatever happens, our child should know one thing.
Their father was scared.
He just decided being scared wasn’t a good enough reason to do nothing.
I love you.
Aaron.
I pressed the letter against my chest.
Raphael sat beside me.
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Finally I whispered:
“Your uncle killed him.”
Raphael looked at the drive.
“We’re going to prove it.”
“No.”
He looked at me.
“We?”
I wiped my eyes.
“You’re going to prove it.”
Raphael almost smiled.
“And you?”
“I’m going home.”
“Smart.”
“Then I’m coming back at eight.”
His smile disappeared.
“Why?”
“Because Dwight threatened my job.”
“Delia—”
May you like
“And I want to be there when he loses his.”
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