Chapter 3 - The Photograph in Vincent’s Office
By sunrise, Lena was furious.
Not frightened.
Furious.
Vincent arrived personally.
He looked at the shattered window, then at Lena standing barefoot among the glass.
“I told you.”
“Congratulations.”
“You’re angry with me?”
“I’m angry with everybody.”
“Good.”
She blinked.
“Good?”
“Fear makes people freeze. Anger makes them move.”
He handed her shoes.
She stared down.
“My shoes?”
“Daniel bought them.”
“They’re my size.”
Vincent looked toward Daniel.
Daniel suddenly became fascinated by the ceiling.
Lena narrowed her eyes.
“How does he know my size?”
“Guess.”
“You people are weird.”
Vincent almost smiled.
“Pack a bag.”
“No.”
“Lena.”
“I’m not moving into some mafia bunker.”
Daniel muttered, “It’s technically a house.”
Vincent looked at him.
Daniel went silent.
Lena folded her arms.
“I’m going to work.”
“Your workplace is currently closed.”
“What?”
“Police investigation.”
She grabbed her phone.
Dwight had called six times.
Before she could return the call, Vincent said, “Come with me.”
“To where?”
“My office.”
“That sentence has probably ruined a lot of mornings.”
This time he did smile.
Barely.
An hour later, Lena sat inside a downtown office overlooking the river.
No gold statues.
No dramatic throne.
Just glass, dark wood, and enough security to invade a small country.
Vincent placed a folder in front of her.
“Holland Development has purchased fourteen properties in Belmore during the past eighteen months.”
“So?”
“Every property suddenly developed code problems.”
Lena opened the file.
Complaints.
Evictions.
Fire reports.
Businesses closing.
Then she saw Hal’s Diner.
“No.”
Vincent nodded.
“They want the entire block.”
“Why?”
“A logistics company intends to build a distribution center.”
Lena read the buyer’s name.
“Northline.”
“Front company.”
“For who?”
“That’s what I’m trying to determine.”
She turned another page.
A photograph slipped out.
Lena froze.
It showed her father.
Thomas Cross.
Younger.
Standing beside Wade Holland.
And Vincent Moretti’s father.
Lena slowly looked up.
“My father died when I was thirteen.”
“I know.”
“He was an electrician.”
“He was an accountant.”
“No.”
Vincent pushed another document toward her.
“Your father handled financial records for my father’s freight company.”
Lena stood.
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
“You knew who I was.”
“Not when I walked into the diner.”
“But afterward?”
“Yes.”
Her chair scraped backward.
“So all that protecting me—”
“Was because four men assaulted you.”
“Don’t.”
“That’s the truth.”
“Then why investigate me?”
“I investigated the Hollands. Your name appeared.”
She looked at the photograph again.
“My father died in a car accident.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“That’s what the report says.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means his car went through a guardrail three days before he was supposed to testify about missing company money.”
Silence.
Lena stared at him.
“Testify against your father?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Vincent slid one final page across the desk.
Wade Holland.
Lena’s fingers went cold.
“My father knew?”
“He discovered money being stolen through property companies.”
“And Wade?”
“Was one of the men involved.”
Lena looked at the photograph.
Then she understood.
“Jesse didn’t come to the diner because of my apartment.”
Vincent nodded.
“No.”
“He wanted my signature because of my father.”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
“We need proof.”
Lena closed the folder.
“Then let’s get it.”
Vincent studied her.
“You should leave town.”
“No.”
“Lena.”
“My father spent eleven years being remembered as a man who fell asleep behind the wheel.”
She pushed the folder toward him.
“If Wade Holland knows what happened, I’m not running.”
Vincent leaned back.
“You realize what you’re asking?”
“I’m not asking you to hurt anyone.”
“Good.”
“I’m asking you to help me prove it.”
For several seconds, Vincent said nothing.
Then he reached for his phone.
“Daniel.”
The door opened.
“Boss?”
“Get Dwight here.”
“Why?”
Lena answered.
“Because Dwight worked at Hal’s when my father was alive.”
Vincent looked at her.
“How do you know?”
“Because he hired me the day he saw my last name.”
May you like
And suddenly, the investigation changed direction.
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