Chapter 2 - The Man Who Disappeared
I stared at my father.
“You made Vincent think you were dead?”
Dad pushed the magnifying lamp away.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He didn’t answer.
I pulled out the chair across from him.
“Try again.”
“Nora.”
“No.”
My father sighed.
“You sound like your mother.”
“Good. She scares you.”
That almost made him smile.
Almost.
Then his expression hardened.
“Twenty-two years ago, Vincent and I worked around the harbor.”
“For his family?”
Dad nodded.
“The Carusos controlled docks, freight contracts, warehouses. Vincent inherited more responsibility than either of us expected.”
“And you?”
“I handled paperwork.”
I stared.
“You disappeared because of paperwork?”
“Certain documents can kill faster than guns.”
That silenced me.
Dad continued.
“I discovered someone had been stealing from the Caruso organization for years.”
“Who?”
“Arthur Vale.”
The name meant nothing to me.
Dad noticed.
“He was Vincent’s father’s business partner.”
“What was he stealing?”
“Money. Shipments. Information.”
Dad looked at the dark window.
“But that wasn’t the worst part.”
“What was?”
“He planned to kill Vincent.”
I leaned forward.
“You knew?”
“I found the evidence.”
“Then why didn’t you warn him?”
“I tried.”
Dad’s fingers tightened.
“The message never reached him.”
“What happened?”
“Vale intercepted it.”
My stomach dropped.
“He knew you knew.”
“Yes.”
“And Mom was pregnant.”
Dad looked at me.
“Yes.”
The room suddenly felt colder.
“So you ran.”
“I had a choice.”
His voice remained steady.
“Stay and risk your mother being killed, or disappear.”
“And you chose us.”
“I chose you.”
I looked down.
“Did Vincent ever know about Mom?”
Dad’s face changed.
“He knew Rose.”
“Of course he did.”
“They were friends.”
I frowned.
“Friends?”
Dad looked uncomfortable.
“That sounds complicated.”
“It was.”
Before I could ask more, headlights moved across the front window.
Dad froze.
A black sedan stopped outside.
I stood.
“Dad?”
He grabbed my wrist.
“Stay away from the window.”
Three knocks sounded at the door.
Slow.
Measured.
Dad went pale.
Then came a voice.
“Danny.”
Dad closed his eyes.
I recognized it immediately.
Vincent.
Dad reached for his cane and walked toward the door.
I followed.
“Nora, stay behind me.”
“You use a cane.”
“I’m still your father.”
He opened the door.
Vincent Caruso stood alone on the porch.
No bodyguards.
No entourage.
Just a dark coat and the expression of a man who had waited twenty-two years.
Nobody spoke.
Vincent looked at Dad’s cane.
Then at his face.
“You’re alive.”
Dad swallowed.
“Yeah.”
Vincent stepped inside.
“You let me bury an empty coffin.”
Dad lowered his eyes.
“I know.”
“You let me tell your mother you were dead.”
“I know.”
“You let me spend twelve years looking for the men who killed you.”
“I know.”
Vincent grabbed Dad by the coat.
I moved forward.
“Hey!”
Vincent looked at me.
Dad raised one hand.
“It’s fine.”
“It doesn’t look fine.”
Vincent released him.
Then, unexpectedly, he pulled Dad into a hard embrace.
Dad’s cane fell.
“You idiot,” Vincent whispered.
Dad laughed weakly.
“You still have terrible manners.”
“You disappeared for twenty-two years.”
“I had reasons.”
“You better have twenty-two good ones.”
They stepped apart.
Vincent looked at me.
“She’s yours?”
Dad nodded.
“My daughter.”
Vincent stared at my face.
“November eighteenth.”
Dad’s expression tightened.
Vincent noticed.
“What?”
Dad looked away.
“Nothing.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“No. You made that face twenty-two years ago when you were lying.”
Dad said nothing.
I looked between them.
“What does my birthday have to do with anything?”
Dad rubbed his forehead.
Vincent looked at him.
“Daniel.”
“It doesn’t concern her.”
“It concerns her if someone is still watching.”
Dad looked sharply at him.
“You think Vale is alive?”
“I know he is.”
The room went silent.
Dad gripped the chair.
Vincent continued.
“He returned to Boston six months ago.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Does he know I’m alive?”
Vincent looked at me.
“He might now.”
Dad’s face darkened.
“Because Nora spoke to you.”
“Yes.”
I crossed my arms.
“Great.”
Vincent looked toward the window.
Then he stopped.
A second black sedan had appeared across the street.
Dad whispered.
“Arthur.”
Vincent moved toward the curtain.
An elderly man stepped out.
Silver hair.
Dark overcoat.
He looked directly toward our house.
Then he smiled.
I felt a chill.
Vincent turned toward Dad.
“He knows.”
Dad reached for his cane.
Vincent grabbed his phone.
“Marco.”
May you like
His voice changed completely.
“Bring everyone.”
