Chapter 3 - The House Without Photographs
The DeLuca estate didn't look like a home.
It looked like a country club designed by someone expecting a siege.
Stone walls.
Iron gates.
Cameras.
Security checkpoints.
Men watching from places I couldn't identify.
Inside, however, there was something stranger.
No photographs.
Not one.
No family portraits.
No vacation pictures.
Nothing showing that a child actually lived there.
A private doctor examined Leo first.
Bruised ribs.
Minor cuts.
Nothing serious.
Then she stitched my palm.
Roman stood near the window throughout the examination.
Watching.
Thinking.
Leo eventually fell asleep upstairs.
I expected Roman to disappear with his security team.
Instead, twenty minutes later, he entered the library carrying two cups of coffee.
He placed one before me.
“You work at Miller's Bakery.”
I stopped.
“How do you know that?”
“I know things.”
“That's not creepy at all.”
The corner of his mouth almost moved.
Almost.
Then he sat opposite me.
“Tell me exactly what you saw.”
I described the Cadillac.
The horn.
The smoke.
Leo.
Roman listened.
“When you arrived, was anyone else there?”
“No.”
“Any vehicle leaving?”
I thought.
Then remembered.
“A delivery truck.”
Roman leaned forward.
“What kind?”
“White box truck.”
“Company?”
“There was writing on the side.”
“What writing?”
I closed my eyes.
I had only seen it for seconds.
Then I remembered.
“Keystone Produce.”
Roman became completely still.
The door opened.
A man around Roman's age entered.
Expensive navy suit.
Gold watch.
Scar along his jaw.
“Roman.”
Roman didn't look away from me.
“Evelyn, this is my cousin, Victor.”
Victor smiled.
But his eyes didn't.
“I'm glad Leo is safe.”
I nodded.
Victor looked at Roman.
“We found Anthony.”
“Alive?”
“No.”
Leo's driver.
My stomach tightened.
Roman's face showed nothing.
“Where?”
“Warehouse district.”
Victor looked toward me again.
“We should discuss the rest privately.”
I stood.
“Good idea.”
Roman stopped me.
“Wait.”
He looked at Victor.
“Keystone Produce.”
For the first time, Victor's smile disappeared.
Only for half a second.
But I saw it.
Roman saw me see it.
And suddenly I understood something.
Whatever had happened beneath that bridge wasn't random.
May you like
And someone standing inside this mansion knew exactly what it meant.
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