Chapter 10 - THE BROTHER IN THE PHOTOGRAPH
Z
Vincent kept one photograph of Gabriel Calder.
It was hidden inside a locked drawer in his private study.
Not displayed.
Not framed.
Hidden.
Elise stood behind him that evening while he opened the drawer.
“I’ve been in this room a hundred times.”
“I know.”
“You never told me.”
“I know.”
The photograph was old.
Two teenage boys stood beside Lake Michigan.
Vincent was perhaps sixteen.
Gabriel looked twenty.
They shared the same dark hair, same sharp jaw, same unsettling eyes.
But Gabriel smiled easily.
Vincent did not.
Elise picked up the photograph.
“What happened to him?”
Vincent poured himself whiskey.
Then did not drink it.
“Gabriel was my father’s favorite.”
“Because?”
“He was charismatic.”
A faint bitterness.
“He knew how to make powerful men feel important and frightened men feel safe.”
“You say that like neither was real.”
“Usually neither was.”
Elise looked at the picture again.
“What did he do for the family?”
“Everything Dominic asked.”
Vincent leaned against the bar.
“Collections. Political favors. shipping. gambling. information.”
“And you?”
“I wanted out.”
“But you joined anyway.”
“My father died.”
Vincent’s voice changed.
The old wound remained.
“Gabriel told me family was the only thing that couldn’t leave.”
Elise thought about Julian.
About how dangerous men often used beautiful ideas as cages.
“What happened after Thomas died?”
“Gabriel cleaned it up.”
“He buried the report?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“He knew the precinct commander.”
“Bribed him?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“I didn’t ask.”
Elise looked at him sharply.
“That seems to be a pattern.”
Vincent absorbed the blow.
“I deserved that.”
“I’m not trying to punish you.”
“No.”
She set the photograph down.
“I’m trying to understand why a man I trust built entire rooms in his life where I wasn’t allowed to look.”
Vincent stared into the untouched whiskey.
“Because shame makes architects of people.”
The answer was so quiet she almost missed it.
For a moment, Elise’s anger softened.
Then she remembered Thomas Vale.
“Where was Gabriel after that?”
“For two more years, everywhere.”
“Then?”
“He vanished.”
“When?”
“January 2013.”
“Why?”
Vincent laughed without humor.
“If I knew that, this conversation would be easier.”
He explained that Gabriel had been under federal investigation.
Several Calder operations were collapsing.
Dominic had become paranoid.
Then, three days before a grand jury was scheduled to hear testimony, Gabriel disappeared.
His apartment had been emptied.
His passports were gone.
Two million dollars had vanished from an offshore account.
“Did you think he was dead?”
“At first.”
“And now?”
“I think Gabriel is too selfish to die for anyone.”
Elise sat across from him.
“Who sent the letter?”
“I don’t know.”
“But you think Gabriel might be involved.”
“Yes.”
Daniel arrived with an envelope of his own thirty minutes later.
Security footage had captured the person who delivered Elise’s letter.
A courier.
Paid in cash.
No useful identity.
But the courier had been picked up by a black sedan.
Daniel had traced it through traffic cameras.
The registration belonged to a shell corporation.
The corporation’s listed attorney was sixty-eight-year-old Miriam Locke.
Vincent’s face went blank.
Elise noticed.
“You know her.”
“She represented Gabriel.”
Daniel nodded.
“She still might.”
“Where is she?”
“North Shore.”
Vincent grabbed his jacket.
Elise stood too.
“No.”
He looked at her.
“What?”
“You are not disappearing into some old Calder situation and telling me to stay here.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“You were absolutely going to.”
Daniel’s mouth twitched.
Vincent ignored him.
“Elise, Gabriel is not Julian.”
“I know.”
“You don’t.”
“Then explain.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Julian needed people to believe he was good.”
“Gabriel doesn’t?”
“No.”
“What does he need?”
Vincent’s answer was immediate.
“To win.”
Elise folded her arms.
“Then don’t go alone.”
Miriam Locke lived inside a gated stone mansion overlooking the lake.
She opened the door herself.
When she saw Vincent, she did not look surprised.
“Still wearing dark suits.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“Miriam.”
Her eyes moved to Elise.
“And this must be the woman.”
Elise’s skin prickled.
“What woman?”
Miriam smiled.
“The one who made Vincent believe he could have a normal life.”
Vincent stepped forward.
“Careful.”
Miriam’s smile widened.
“There he is.”
Elise hated her immediately.
The living room contained books, antiques and no family photographs.
Miriam poured tea.
Nobody drank it.
“You sent the letter,” Vincent said.
“No.”
“You know who did.”
“Yes.”
Elise leaned forward.
“Who?”
Miriam looked at her.
“You really don’t know what you’re standing beside, do you?”
“Don’t talk about me like I’m not here.”
Miriam seemed pleased.
“You’re stronger than the photographs suggested.”
Vincent stood.
“What photographs?”
Miriam reached for a folder.
Inside were images.
Elise leaving her apartment.
Elise with Owen.
Elise kissing Vincent outside a restaurant.
Elise froze.
Vincent’s face became dangerous.
“How long?”
“Six months.”
“Gabriel?”
Miriam said nothing.
Vincent slammed both hands onto the table.
“Where is my brother?”
Miriam did not flinch.
“He asked me once whether you had changed.”
Vincent stared.
“I told him men like you don’t change. They redirect.”
Elise looked at the photographs.
“Why watch me?”
Miriam answered her this time.
“Because Gabriel wanted to know what Vincent would protect.”
Vincent went still.
That was the sentence that scared him.
Elise saw it.
“What does that mean?”
Miriam leaned back.
“Your relationship gave Gabriel something he never had before.”
“A reason to come back?”
“No.”
Miriam looked directly at Vincent.
“Leverage.”
Vincent grabbed the folder.
“We’re leaving.”
Miriam called after him.
“You should ask him about the warehouse.”
Vincent stopped.
Elise felt it.
Another secret.
Another locked room.
“What warehouse?”
Vincent did not turn around.
Miriam smiled.
“Interesting.”
Elise stepped away from Vincent.
“What warehouse?”
Silence.
Miriam finished her tea.
“September seventeenth, 2012. South Halsted Street.”
Elise stared at Vincent.
His face had drained.
“What happened there?”
May you like
Vincent finally turned.
“Something worse than Thomas Vale.”
