Chapter 8 - THE NIGHT MY FATHER DIED
Marco survived.
Barely.
An ambulance took him away under armed protection.
Vanessa was taken somewhere else.
Not by police.
That bothered me.
Dominic noticed.
“She’ll be questioned.”
“By who?”
“People I trust.”
“That sentence means something different in your world.”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to kill her?”
“No.”
I searched his face.
He looked exhausted.
Pale from blood loss.
But he answered without hesitation.
“She needs to face what she did.”
“Legally?”
“If possible.”
“If possible?”
Dominic sighed.
“I’m trying, Avery.”
“Try harder.”
We found Mom before dawn.
She was being held in an empty house outside Evanston.
Dominic’s people got her out without a fight.
When I saw her, I forgot everything else.
I ran to her.
She wrapped both arms around me.
“I knew you’d come.”
I started crying.
Not quietly.
Not elegantly.
Eight years of being strong poured out at once.
Mom held my face.
“Baby, I’m okay.”
“I thought—”
“I know.”
“I thought I lost you.”
“You didn’t.”
Behind her, Dominic turned away and gave us privacy.
That tiny gesture confused me more than cruelty would have.
Later, Mom finally told me the truth about Dad’s death.
“He came home that night.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“After the accident.”
My hands went numb.
“He came through that door bleeding.”
“Mom…”
“He said the crash had been staged. He escaped.”
“Then why did police say he died there?”
“Because another body was in the truck.”
I stood so fast my chair fell.
“You knew?”
“I knew for six hours.”
Her voice broke.
“Six hours, Avery.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“What happened?”
“He told me to pack.”
She looked toward the window.
“We were going to leave Illinois before sunrise.”
“What changed?”
“Someone knocked.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?”
“Richard Whitmore.”
Vanessa’s father.
Mom nodded.
“Your father trusted him enough to open the door.”
I closed my eyes.
“He shot him.”
“No.”
“Not in the apartment. They argued. Daniel told me to take you into the bedroom.”
Her fingers shook.
“Then Richard forced him downstairs.”
“And you let him?”
“There was a gun pointed at your father’s head!”
Her voice cracked.
“I had a sixteen-year-old daughter sleeping ten feet away.”
I went silent.
Mom started crying.
“I wanted to protect you.”
I sat beside her.
“I’m sorry.”
She squeezed my hand.
“I watched from the window. A black car took him away.”
“Did you call police?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“Two officers came.”
Her face hardened.
“They told me Daniel had died hours earlier and that grief was confusing me.”
Corrupt police.
Dad had warned us.
Don’t trust the police.
“Where did they take him?”
Mom shook her head.
“I never knew.”
Dominic entered quietly.
“I might.”
I turned.
He placed an old map on the table.
“Marco said warehouse.”
He pointed to a building near the Calumet River.
“My uncle owned this property.”
I stared at it.
“What was it used for?”
“Nothing legal.”
“Was my father killed there?”
Dominic looked at me.
“I think that’s where Salvatore interrogated him.”
Mom covered her mouth.
I stood.
“Then we go.”
“Avery, it’s abandoned.”
“I don’t care.”
“There may be nothing left.”
“I don’t care.”
Dominic studied me.
Then nodded.
At sunrise, we entered the old warehouse.
Rust.
Broken windows.
Water dripping from the ceiling.
Nothing.
Then I saw scratches on a concrete pillar.
Letters.
Barely visible.
I moved closer.
A.
V.
E.
My name.
AVERY.
Below it was a date.
The day after Dad supposedly died.
My knees weakened.
Dominic touched the wall.
“There’s something else.”
An arrow had been scratched beneath my name.
Pointing toward the floor.
We moved a rusted cabinet.
Under it was a metal hatch.
Dominic pulled it open.
Cold air rose from darkness below.
May you like
And somewhere under that warehouse…
a phone started ringing.
