Chapter 9 - The Box in Clara’s Closet
“No.”
Dante said it before Clara finished reading.
“She wants me.”
“She wants the drive.”
“She thinks I know where my father hid something.”
“Then she’ll keep you alive until she finds it.”
“That’s supposed to reassure me?”
“No.”
Dante took the phone.
“You’re still not going alone.”
Clara looked at him.
“If she sees your men, she leaves.”
“If you go alone, you may not.”
Julian sat nearby while a medic wrapped his wound.
“She’ll have cameras.”
Dante turned.
“Useful contribution.”
Julian ignored the sarcasm.
“She always watches entrances.”
Clara thought.
“What about the building next door?”
Dante looked at her.
“My kitchen window faces its fire escape.”
Luca smiled faintly.
“Now we’re talking.”
They returned to New York before sunrise.
Clara had never imagined breaking into her own apartment.
Yet at 5:12 a.m., she climbed from the neighboring building onto the fire escape while Dante followed behind.
“You’re too big for this,” she whispered.
“Helpful.”
His jacket caught on a railing.
Clara looked back.
Despite everything, she nearly smiled.
“Very elegant.”
“Keep moving.”
They reached her kitchen window.
Unlocked.
Clara winced.
“I really need better security.”
Dante looked at her.
“Yes.”
They entered.
The apartment had been destroyed.
Drawers emptied.
Mattress cut.
Cabinets open.
Her father’s boxes scattered across the floor.
Clara stopped.
For a moment the danger disappeared.
All she saw was violation.
Her father’s letters.
Photographs.
Old clothes.
His watch.
Everything thrown around by strangers.
Dante touched her shoulder.
“We’ll put it back.”
She nodded.
Then noticed something.
“They missed one.”
“What?”
Clara went to the hall closet.
Her father had built the shelves himself.
One shelf was thicker than the others.
As a teenager Clara used to complain it was crooked.
Now she understood.
She reached underneath.
A tiny latch.
The shelf opened.
Inside was a metal cash box.
Dante exhaled.
“Thomas was careful.”
“He was paranoid.”
“Sometimes those are the same thing.”
Clara opened it.
Tax records.
A passport.
Cash.
And a sealed envelope.
For Clara.
She tore it open.
Sweetheart,
If you ever find this, I owe you an apology.
I spent my life teaching you honesty while hiding the most dangerous truth I knew.
Inside the box is evidence that can destroy powerful people.
Do not give it to police without knowing which police.
Do not trust anyone because they wear a badge.
And do not trust Dante Vancini merely because Elena did.
Clara looked at Dante.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Smart man.”
She continued.
But if his daughter is ever in danger, help the child.
Whatever else Dante is, Elena believed he loved Sophia more than power.
There is a ledger inside the wall behind your mother’s photograph.
Clara froze.
Her mother’s photograph hung in the bedroom.
They went there.
Dante removed the frame.
Behind it was a small cut in the drywall.
Inside was a black ledger.
Names filled the pages.
Judges.
Officers.
Businessmen.
Politicians.
Payments from Isabella’s network.
At the back was an entry dated three years ago.
AARON PIKE — 500,000 — E.V.
Elena Vancini.
Murder contract.
Dante stared.
Proof.
Clara whispered, “This could put her away.”
“If the people receiving the book aren’t already hers.”
A floorboard creaked behind them.
Dante turned.
Gun raised.
A man stood in the doorway.
Tall.
Gray hair.
Scar along his jaw.
Aaron Pike.
Clara knew without asking.
He smiled.
“Put it down, Dante.”
Dante did not.
Pike aimed at Clara.
“I said put it down.”
Dante slowly lowered the weapon.
Pike nodded.
“Kick it over.”
He obeyed.
Clara held the ledger against her chest.
Pike looked at it.
“There you are.”
“Isabella sent you?” Clara asked.
“She sent me for the book.”
“And me?”
“Optional.”
Dante’s expression changed.
Pike noticed.
“Careful.”
He gestured toward Clara.
“One bad decision and the waitress dies.”
Clara looked at Dante.
Very calmly she said, “You should probably make a bad decision.”
Pike laughed.
“I like her.”
Dante did not.
“She has nothing to do with this.”
“She does now.”
Pike stepped closer.
“Book.”
Clara held it out.
He reached.
Then the apartment lights died.
Pike cursed.
Dante moved.
A violent crash.
Clara dropped to the floor.
Two shots.
Glass shattered.
When emergency light from the street reached the room, Dante had Pike against the wall.
The gun was on the floor.
Luca entered from the fire escape.
“Clear.”
Pike laughed through blood on his lip.
“You think this matters?”
Dante pressed him harder.
“You killed my wife.”
Pike looked straight at him.
“Yes.”
Clara froze.
No denial.
No excuse.
Dante’s hand tightened around his throat.
Pike smiled.
“Go ahead.”
Clara saw what he wanted.
Kill him.
Destroy the witness.
She grabbed Dante’s arm.
“No.”
He did not look at her.
“Move.”
“No.”
“Clara.”
“He wants you to.”
Pike’s smile widened.
Dante stared at him.
Then slowly released him.
Luca cuffed Pike.
Dante leaned closer.
“You’re going to tell me everything.”
Pike shrugged.
“Sure.”
That surprised them.
“Why?” Clara asked.
“Because Isabella abandoned me.”
He looked at the ledger.
“She thinks she can disappear and leave everyone else holding the bodies.”
Dante’s voice was ice.
“Where is she?”
Pike smiled.
“You’re asking the wrong question.”
“What should I ask?”
Pike looked directly at Clara.
“Ask where Sophia is.”
Dante went still.
Clara’s phone rang.
Luca answered.
His face changed.
The safe house.
The guards had been found unconscious.
May you like
Sophia was gone.
And on her pillow lay a chocolate heart crossed out in black ink.
