Chapter 9 - THE BASEMENT
Nobody spoke.
The phone kept ringing below us.
Old-fashioned.
Mechanical.
Impossible.
Dominic drew his gun.
I grabbed a flashlight.
“Stay behind me.”
I looked at him.
“You’re limping.”
“I was shot.”
“Exactly.”
I went first.
Concrete stairs descended beneath the warehouse.
The smell hit halfway down.
Mold.
Oil.
Old water.
Something rotten.
At the bottom was a corridor with three steel doors.
The ringing came from the last one.
Dominic opened it.
Inside sat an old desk.
One chair.
A tape recorder.
And a landline telephone.
The phone stopped ringing.
Then a speaker on the wall clicked.
A man’s voice filled the room.
“You always were stubborn, Avery.”
My blood froze.
I knew that voice from old Christmas dinners.
Old family videos.
News interviews.
Salvatore Moretti.
Dominic’s uncle.
Dominic stepped toward the speaker.
“Where are you?”
Salvatore laughed.
“Still dramatic, nephew.”
“You took Linda.”
“No. Vanessa did.”
“She works for you.”
“She works for herself.”
The speaker crackled.
“A dangerous quality in a woman who thinks she’s smarter than everyone around her.”
I grabbed the microphone.
“You killed my father.”
Silence.
Then Salvatore sighed.
“Daniel Carter killed himself.”
My vision went red.
Dominic caught my shoulder.
I pushed his hand away.
“What does that mean?”
“He had choices.”
“You murdered him.”
“He could have walked away.”
“You put a gun to his head.”
“And he still wouldn’t tell me where the records were.”
Salvatore chuckled.
“Your father was very brave.”
I wanted to tear the wall apart.
“Where is his body?”
Dominic stared at me.
Salvatore went quiet.
“Why?”
“Because my mother deserves to bury her husband.”
No answer.
“Where is he?”
“Ask Dominic.”
I turned.
Dominic’s face changed.
My stomach dropped.
“Dominic?”
Salvatore laughed through the speaker.
“Oh, this is better than I expected.”
I stepped away from Dominic.
“You know?”
“Avery—”
“Do you know where my father is?”
Dominic closed his eyes.
“Yes.”
The word broke something.
I slapped him.
He didn’t stop me.
Mom had slapped him.
Now I understood why.
“You knew this whole time?”
“No.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“Three years?”
“I found an old ledger.”
“You let us live without knowing for three years?”
“I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“That’s a coward’s answer.”
“Yes.”
Again.
Always accepting the accusation.
Somehow that made it worse.
“Where is he?”
Dominic looked toward the back wall.
“There’s an old cemetery outside Joliet. Unmarked graves.”
I felt sick.
Salvatore interrupted.
“Touching.”
Dominic fired into the speaker.
The sound exploded.
Silence.
I screamed at him.
“What the hell?”
“He’s tracking how long we stay.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I learned from him.”
That sentence was colder than anything else.
Then the old desk phone rang again.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
I answered.
Salvatore whispered, “You have something I want.”
“The files.”
“Yes.”
“And I want something.”
He laughed.
“Your father’s body?”
“No.”
Dominic looked at me.
I gripped the phone.
“I want you.”
Silence.
I continued.
“You think my father died because he had no choices?”
My voice steadied.
“Fine.”
“Come give me one.”
Salvatore chuckled.
“You really are Daniel’s daughter.”
“Tell me where.”
He gave an address.
Dominic shook his head.
“No.”
Salvatore heard him.
“Midnight, Avery. Come with Dominic and the drives.”
“And then?”
“Then we finish what your father started.”
The line died.
Dominic looked at me.
“You’re not going.”
I stared at the dark speaker.
“Yes, I am.”
“Avery—”
“And this time, we’re not bringing your rules.”
May you like
I looked at him.
“We’re bringing mine.”
