Chapter 7 - THE BROTHER EVERYONE FORGOT
Dante stared at Emma.
“My brother?”
Emma nodded.
“Which one?”
Mrs. Moretti’s hands moved.
“Gabriel.”
Dante stepped back.
“No.”
Sal looked at the ground.
Emma noticed.
Dante did too.
“Sal.”
Sal stayed silent.
Dante’s voice became dangerous.
“Look at me.”
Sal did.
“What do you know?”
Sal swallowed.
“Gabriel and your father fought.”
“I know that.”
“No. I mean that night.”
Dante’s face hardened.
“You said you were outside.”
“I was.”
“So?”
“I heard them.”
“What did they say?”
Sal looked at Mrs. Moretti.
She closed her eyes.
Dante shouted, “WHAT DID THEY SAY?”
The sound echoed inside the mausoleum.
Mrs. Moretti flinched.
Emma grabbed Dante’s arm.
“Stop.”
He looked at her.
“Don’t yell in her face.”
“She can’t hear me.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
The words hit him.
Dante backed away.
His shoulders dropped.
He signed clumsily to his mother.
“Sorry.”
Mrs. Moretti touched his cheek.
Then looked at Sal.
Sal spoke quietly.
“Gabriel accused Carlo of destroying him.”
Dante frowned.
“Destroying him how?”
“Money. Business. A woman. I don’t know.”
“You never told me.”
“Carlo made me swear.”
“He was dead the next day.”
“Exactly.”
Dante stared at him.
Sal looked ashamed.
“I was scared.”
Dante laughed bitterly.
“Everybody was scared.”
Emma folded her arms.
“That seems to be a theme in your family.”
Dante looked toward the locked door.
“We need out.”
Sal examined the hinge.
“Steel.”
Victor, who had been silent most of the night, spoke.
“There may be another way.”
Everyone turned.
He pointed toward a stone panel.
“Old mausoleums sometimes have maintenance access.”
They searched.
Emma found the seam.
Sal forced it open.
A narrow crawlspace led outside.
One at a time, they moved through.
Mrs. Moretti first.
Then Lily.
Then Emma.
Outside, the cemetery was empty.
Too empty.
The cars were gone.
Dante’s men were unconscious near the gate.
Not dead.
Drugged.
Professional.
Emma looked at Dante.
“Whoever did this knew exactly where you’d be.”
Dante nodded.
“And exactly when.”
Sal whispered, “Someone inside.”
Dante looked at him.
“Everybody says that right before accusing everybody else.”
Victor lifted his hands.
“I’m not accusing anybody.”
“You’re breathing nervously.”
“I’m standing in a cemetery at midnight next to an opened coffin. Forgive me.”
Lily tapped Emma’s shoulder.
She pointed at one of the unconscious guards.
His pocket was blinking.
Emma reached in.
Another phone.
A message on the screen.
SUNDAY DINNER. 6 P.M. COME ALONE.
Below it was an address.
Mrs. Moretti saw the message.
Her eyes widened.
She signed.
“No.”
Emma translated.
“She says don’t go.”
Dante looked at her.
“Why?”
His mother signed.
“That’s Gabriel’s old house.”
Dante stared at the address.
Emma felt a chill.
“I thought Gabriel was dead.”
Dante’s eyes stayed on the phone.
“So did I.”
Emma turned sharply.
“What?”
Dante looked at her.
“My brother disappeared fourteen years ago.”
“Disappeared isn’t dead.”
“We found blood. A burned car. His wedding ring.”
“No body?”
Dante didn’t answer.
Emma gave him a look.
“Your family really needs better standards for confirming death.”
Even Sal laughed once.
Dante didn’t.
His mother signed.
Emma watched.
Then her stomach dropped.
“What?”
Dante asked.
Emma looked at him.
“She says your father believed Gabriel was alive.”
Dante’s face went still.
“How would she know?”
Mrs. Moretti reached inside her coat.
She pulled out a small folded photograph.
Old.
Worn.
Emma took it.
Three men stood outside a summer house.
Carlo Moretti.
Michael Santoro.
And a younger man who looked disturbingly like Dante.
Gabriel.
On the back was a handwritten date.
Two years after Gabriel supposedly died.
Dante stared at the picture.
Then looked at his mother.
“You had this the whole time?”
She signed.
“I tried to show you.”
Dante closed his eyes.
Again.
The same answer.
Again and again.
I tried to tell you.
You didn’t look.
He opened his eyes.
This time, shame outweighed anger.
Then the burner phone rang.
Dante answered.
No distorted voice now.
A man spoke naturally.
Softly.
Almost warmly.
“Hello, little brother.”
Dante stopped breathing.
May you like
Emma knew before anyone said the name.
Gabriel was alive.
