Chapter 9 - THE NAME ON MY FATHER’S FILEFor one insane second, everyone looked at me.
I nearly laughed.
“What?”
Marco frowned.
“Not her.”
He pointed beyond me.
At the folder I had been carrying.
“My employee file?”
Luca took it.
Marco nodded.
“Open it.”
Inside were ordinary documents.
Background check.
Tax forms.
Emergency contact.
My father’s name.
THOMAS REED.
Marco tapped it.
“There.”
Luca looked at me.
My mouth went dry.
“What does my father have to do with this?”
Marco sat.
“Thomas Reed worked for Moretti Shipping.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“He was a mechanic.”
“At Moretti Shipping.”
I stared at Luca.
“I didn’t know.”
Marco continued.
“He repaired company vehicles.”
Including, apparently, a black sedan.
My chest tightened.
“No.”
“Your father saw the damage after the bridge crash.”
I stood.
“Stop.”
“He asked questions.”
“Stop.”
“He kept records.”
I grabbed my phone.
My father answered weakly.
“Emma?”
“Dad.”
Something in my voice alarmed him.
“What happened?”
“Did you work for Moretti Shipping?”
Silence.
My knees weakened.
“Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Did you repair a black sedan in October 2000?”
Another silence.
Then my father whispered:
“Who told you?”
I closed my eyes.
The room disappeared around me.
“Dad.”
His breathing became uneven.
“I tried to forget.”
“What did you see?”
“Blood.”
Nobody moved.
“There was blood in the back seat.”
“Whose?”
“I don’t know.”
“What else?”
“The bumper was crushed.”
My father began coughing.
“And there was a woman’s scarf caught beneath the chassis.”
Luca went white.
“What color?” I asked.
“Green.”
Luca sat down.
His mother wore a green scarf in nearly every photograph I had seen.
“Dad, who brought the car in?”
My father hesitated.
“Anton Petrov.”
Viktor closed his eyes.
“And who told you to repair it?”
Another pause.
“Marco Moretti.”
Every head turned.
Marco did not move.
Luca’s voice became dangerous.
“You?”
Marco shook his head.
“I was covering for my brother.”
“Your brother being my father.”
“Yes.”
Luca stared at him.
“You just said someone else ordered the attack.”
“He did.”
“Who?”
Marco looked toward Vanessa.
“Her father.”
Vanessa closed her eyes.
Marco continued.
“But your father paid Anton afterward.”
“Why?”
“To keep quiet.”
Luca looked sick.
“He knew Bellini killed his wife and paid the driver?”
“He believed exposing the truth would destroy you.”
Luca laughed bitterly.
“Everyone apparently destroyed my life to protect me.”
Nobody had an answer for that.
My father spoke again through the phone.
“Emma?”
“Yes?”
“There’s something else.”
“What?”
“I kept the work order.”
Marco stood.
“What?”
My father’s voice trembled.
“They told me to destroy it.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Where is it?”
“In your mother’s Bible.”
My mother had died when I was sixteen.
Her Bible had sat in my father’s bedroom ever since.
Luca immediately sent security.
Forty minutes later, they returned with a yellowed piece of paper.
A vehicle repair order.
Signed by Marco.
But at the bottom was another signature authorizing payment.
ANTHONY MORETTI.
Luca’s father.
Luca stared at it.
Then Marco said:
“That signature is forged.”
Luca looked up.
“How do you know?”
“Because your father was left-handed.”
The signature slanted like a right-handed writer’s.
Luca turned toward Viktor.
Viktor whispered:
“Anton.”
Marco nodded.
“Your brother forged Anthony’s signature.”
Viktor looked devastated.
“Why?”
Marco answered.
“Because Anton wasn’t working for Anthony.”
He looked toward Vanessa.
“He worked for her father.”
Vanessa’s phone vibrated.
A message.
She read it.
Her face drained.
“What?”
She handed Luca the phone.
COME HOME ALONE IF YOU WANT YOUR MOTHER TO LIVE.
Attached was a photograph.
Sofia.
May you like
Bound to a chair.
And behind her stood Vanessa’s father.
Related Stories
