Chapter 3 - THE MAN IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Domenico picked up the picture.
“No.”
Marco folded his arms.
“That’s your answer?”
“She didn’t know Mercer.”
“She knew him very well.”
“That picture could be anything.”
“It was taken six months before she died.”
Domenico looked at Camilla.
“Did you know about this?”
She shook her head.
For once, he believed her immediately.
Domenico remembered Daniel Mercer.
Back then Mercer worked financial crimes for the FBI.
Russo Development had been investigated after a subcontractor was caught paying bribes to a city inspector.
Domenico had cooperated.
The investigation went nowhere.
Mercer disappeared from his life.
Or so he thought.
“Where did you get this?”
Marco shrugged.
“Isabella’s things.”
“You went through her things?”
“After the funeral.”
Domenico stepped toward him.
“You went through my dead wife’s belongings without telling me?”
“I was protecting you.”
“Stop saying that.”
Domenico’s voice hit the room like a gunshot.
Camilla flinched.
Domenico lowered his tone.
“I’m done hearing people tell me they lied because they were protecting me.”
Marco nodded toward the photograph.
“Then go to the garage.”
Domenico studied him.
“You want me to go?”
“I want this finished.”
“Why?”
“Because once you see what’s there, maybe you’ll finally understand that Isabella wasn’t investigating me.”
Marco walked toward the door.
Domenico blocked him.
“You’re not leaving.”
Marco gave him a tired look.
“You planning to hold me hostage?”
“I’m planning to call the police.”
That finally rattled him.
“For what?”
“For attacking me. Threatening Isabella. Whatever else comes next.”
Marco leaned closer.
“You call the cops now, that garage gets emptied before you reach it.”
Domenico’s stomach tightened.
“By who?”
Marco smiled faintly.
“You think I’m the only person who knew she was digging?”
Domenico pulled out his phone.
Marco’s smile disappeared.
“You make that call, somebody else makes one too.”
“To who?”
Marco looked at Camilla.
Domenico followed his gaze.
His daughter’s face went white.
“What?”
Camilla whispered, “Dad…”
Domenico turned to her.
“What did you do?”
She shook her head.
“It wasn’t supposed to happen this way.”
His pulse quickened.
“Camilla.”
Her phone buzzed on the table.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
She didn’t move.
Domenico picked it up.
The screen showed six missed calls from a contact saved as M.
Then a text appeared.
YOU HAD ONE JOB.
Another followed.
IF HE OPENS THE LETTER, GO TO THE GARAGE BEFORE HIM.
Domenico slowly raised his eyes.
“Who is M?”
Camilla started crying again.
Marco muttered, “Oh, hell.”
Domenico turned.
“You know?”
Marco nodded once.
“Yeah.”
“Who?”
Before he could answer, headlights swept across the front windows.
A vehicle stopped outside.
Then another.
Domenico moved to the curtain.
Two black SUVs.
Four men stepped out.
Not police.
Marco grabbed Domenico’s arm.
“For once in your life, listen to me.”
Domenico pulled free.
“Who are they?”
Marco stared through the window.
May you like
His face had gone gray.
“The reason Isabella died.”
