Chapter 3 - The Box Under the Floor
Norah knew someone was following her before she reached the subway.
She stopped beside a closed pharmacy.
Footsteps stopped behind her.
She started walking.
They started again.
Norah pulled out her phone.
Before she could dial, a black SUV stopped beside the curb.
The rear window lowered.
Mateo sat inside.
“Get in.”
Norah glared at him.
“Were you following me?”
“Yes.”
“That's incredibly creepy.”
“There is also a man behind you who has followed you six blocks.”
Norah stopped joking.
Mateo opened the door.
“Now.”
She got in.
The SUV moved.
Norah looked through the rear window.
A man stood beneath the pharmacy awning.
“Who is he?”
“I don't know.”
“That's not reassuring.”
Mateo called someone.
“Find out.”
He ended the call.
Norah stared at him.
“Is this normal for you?”
“No.”
“What part?”
“Not knowing who is following someone.”
Twenty minutes later, they reached Norah’s building.
Mateo looked at the cracked entrance door.
“You live here?”
“Try not to sound horrified.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m reconsidering your definition of safe.”
They climbed three flights.
Norah unlocked apartment 3C.
The living room was tiny but clean.
Mateo noticed framed photographs.
A younger Norah beside an elderly man covered in flour.
“Vincenzo?”
“Yes.”
Mateo approached the photograph.
“He looks ordinary.”
“He was.”
Norah knelt beside an old bookcase.
“My grandfather hated banks.”
She pulled away several books and removed a loose floorboard.
Mateo crouched.
“You've kept it there?”
“Nobody steals books.”
She lifted out a wooden box.
The lock had broken years ago.
Norah opened it.
Photographs.
Letters.
Immigration documents.
A medal.
A small notebook.
Mateo picked up a photograph.
Four young Sicilian men stood outside a stone farmhouse.
One was Vincenzo.
Another was Carmelo.
Mateo whispered, “Jesus.”
Norah pointed.
“That's your father?”
“At nineteen, maybe twenty.”
She removed another photograph.
Carmelo and Vincenzo stood beside a third man.
On the back, someone had written:
Brothers by choice. 1967.
Mateo picked up the notebook.
Most pages contained names and numbers.
Then he found something else.
A handwritten letter.
He read the first lines.
His face changed.
“What?”
Mateo didn't answer.
“Mateo.”
He handed it to her.
Norah read.
Carmelo,
If anything happens to me, the records prove Salvatore betrayed us. Do not punish his children for his sins.
Vincenzo.
Norah looked up.
“Who's Salvatore?”
Mateo's phone rang.
He answered.
“Yes?”
His expression hardened.
“When?”
He listened.
“We're coming.”
He hung up.
Norah stood.
“What happened?”
“My father.”
“What about him?”
“Someone attacked his convoy.”
Her face drained.
“Is he alive?”
“Yes.”
Mateo looked at the box.
“And now I know why.”
Norah stepped back.
“No.”
“Someone knew Vincenzo kept evidence.”
“Evidence of what?”
“A betrayal that happened before I was born.”
“Then call the police.”
Mateo gave her a look.
“Right.”
Norah grabbed the box.
Mateo stopped her.
“You're coming with me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“You're already involved.”
“I served wine.”
“You revealed your grandfather’s identity in front of twenty people.”
“That isn't a crime.”
“No.”
Mateo's voice became quieter.
“But somebody just tried to frighten my father off the road, and someone followed you home.”
Norah looked at the photographs.
“Who is Salvatore?”
Mateo shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“Your father does.”
“Yes.”
Norah closed the box.
“Then let's ask him.”
Mateo stared.
“You're voluntarily coming?”
“I want answers.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“You really are Vincenzo's granddaughter.”
“Say that again after you've annoyed me.”
They left.
Neither noticed the shadow moving on the rooftop opposite Norah’s apartment.
Nor did they see the photograph being sent to another phone.
May you like
The message beneath it contained four words.
THE GIRL HAS EVERYTHING.
