Chapter 11 - THE PACKING PLANT
The packing plant had been closed for twelve years. Its loading doors faced an empty lot, and weeds had grown through the cracked pavement.
Detectives watched the exits. Alessandro and Mara waited in a car two streets away.
“I know you want to go in,” he said.
“So do you.”
“Yes.”
Mara glanced at him. Since the cemetery, he had looked at her differently. Like every answer about their mother brought another question he was afraid to ask.
“You can be angry with her,” Mara said.
“I am.”
“She wanted to come back.”
“You believed her?”
“I know how she sounded every time someone said your name.”
Alessandro looked through the windshield. “I wish she’d told me about you.”
Mara gave him a sad smile. “I wish she had too.”
A radio call interrupted them. Officers had spotted movement near a side entrance. A man stepped out, raised his hands, and called for help.
Daniel Mercer.
A detective brought him over. His face was bruised, but he was steady on his feet.
“Isabella’s inside with Enzo and Victoria,” he said. “Enzo wants the original ledger.”
“Why bring Victoria?” Mara asked.
“She brought him Isabella in exchange for the records Helen kept. Then she learned Enzo planned to leave her holding the blame.”
Daniel had helped Isabella reach Mara months earlier. When Victoria discovered it, she threatened to expose where Isabella had been living. He had driven Victoria that day because it gave him a chance to slip Isabella the photograph for the gate.
“And the third grave?” Alessandro asked.
Daniel’s expression closed.
“Tell us,” Mara said.
“Enzo made us bury an empty coffin there. It was meant for me. A reminder of what would happen if I helped Isabella again.”
One of the detectives called Daniel aside to take his statement. Before he went, he gripped Alessandro’s sleeve.
“Your father has another way out. There’s an underground passage to the river road.”
The radio crackled. Officers moved to cover it.
May you like
Then a gunshot sounded from inside the plant.
Mara ran before Alessandro could stop her.
