Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN IN MY FATHER'S PHOTO
We left the hospital before sunrise.
Arthur drove himself.
No convoy.
No guards.
Just us.
The city passed outside the windows, dark and frozen.
I stared ahead.
“You knew my father was dead.”
Arthur kept his eyes on the road.
“Yes.”
“You knew he was murdered.”
“Yes.”
“You knew my debt was fake.”
“Yes.”
My anger finally broke.
“And you let me clean your house for two years?”
He gripped the steering wheel.
“I didn't know they had found you.”
“You didn't know?”
“When I first saw your name on the employment file, I thought it was coincidence.”
“And later?”
“I checked.”
“What did you find?”
“Nothing.”
“That's impossible.”
Arthur exhaled.
“Your identity had been erased.”
I turned toward him.
“By whom?”
“My mentor.”
“Gabriel.”
“Yes.”
Arthur drove in silence.
Then he pulled into an abandoned warehouse near the river.
Inside was an old office.
A single table.
Two chairs.
He placed the photograph of my father on the table.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
Arthur sat.
“Gabriel raised me after my parents died.”
I listened.
“He taught me how to fight. How to negotiate. How to kill.”
His voice softened.
“But your father taught me something else.”
“What?”
“That fear isn't strength.”
Arthur gave a bitter smile.
“He said a man who needed everyone to fear him was already afraid of himself.”
I thought of the man who had stumbled into my basement.
The drunk, bleeding man.
The terrified man.
The man who had whispered, Please don't make me leave.
“Was he your friend?”
“Yes.”
Arthur looked down.
“He was the closest thing I had to a father.”
“Then why did he die?”
Arthur didn't answer immediately.
Finally he said,
“Because Gabriel ordered me to kill him.”
My heart sank.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
“I refused.”
“Then who did it?”
Arthur looked at me.
“I don't know.”
I froze.
“That's the truth?”
“Yes.”
“But Voss said…”
“Voss lies when he's scared.”
Arthur reached into his coat.
He took out a small photograph.
It showed my father standing outside a house.
Beside him stood a little girl.
Me.
I was maybe six.
Arthur said,
“Your father brought you here once.”
I stared.
“I don't remember.”
“You were sick.”
“He never told me.”
“He didn't want you to know.”
Arthur turned the photo over.
Written on the back were seven words.
KEEP HER AWAY FROM THE BLACK ROOM.
I looked up.
“What is the Black Room?”
Arthur's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“Say that again.”
Silence.
Then he hung up.
“What happened?”
“Someone found Daniel.”
“Alive?”
Arthur looked at me.
“Dead.”
My blood ran cold.
“How?”
“They found him in the basement.”
My throat tightened.
“But we left the basement.”
Arthur nodded.
“He wasn't there when we left.”
He stepped closer.
“They moved him.”
“Who?”
Arthur looked toward the warehouse door.
“The same person who moved your father's body.”
A car pulled up outside.
Arthur reached for his gun.
Then someone knocked.
Three times.
Pause.
Three times.
One.
My father's signal.
Arthur stared at me.
“No,” he whispered.
The knock came again.
Arthur opened the door.
A man stood outside wearing a dark coat.
I knew him immediately.
My father's older brother.
My uncle Samuel.
I hadn't seen him in twelve years.
He looked at me.
Then at Arthur.
And said,
“Your father didn't die because of the Costellos.”
May you like
He paused.
“He died because of you.”
