Chapter 1 - The Door Inside the Wall“Mama... that’s where the man goes after he knocks.”
Sophie's whisper seemed to drain every ounce of warmth from the corridor.
Dante Moretti stood before the open passage, his pistol raised, his expression so completely still that I found myself more frightened of him than of the darkness beyond the wall.
He looked down at my daughter.
“How do you know that, Sophie?”
She buried her face against my coat.
“Because I heard him.”
“When?”
“Every night.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“Dante,” I snapped before I could stop myself. “She’s five.”
His eyes shifted to mine. For one terrible second, I thought he might have me thrown out for speaking to him that way.
Instead, he lowered his weapon slightly.
“You’re right.”
The admission stunned me more than his anger would have.
Dante crouched until he was eye level with Sophie. His expensive black trousers pressed against the dusty floor, and he seemed oblivious to the grime settling against his knees.
“Little one, I need you to tell me exactly what you saw. You won’t be in trouble.”
Sophie peeked over my arm.
“His shoes.”
“What about them?”
“They made wet marks on my floor. Mama had just cleaned it.”
My stomach twisted.
“What kind of shoes?” Dante asked.
“Big ones. Black ones. One shoe had a silver thing on the side.”
Dante glanced at the passage.
Then he looked toward the ceiling, as though he could see through the stone floors to the rooms above us.
“Bruno.”
The enormous Cane Corso stepped forward. His muscles tightened beneath his black coat, and a low growl rolled from his chest.
Dante pointed into the tunnel.
“Find him.”
Bruno disappeared into the darkness.
“Absolutely not,” I said.
Dante gave me a sharp look.
“You want me to let whoever entered your daughter's bedroom walk away?”
“I want you to tell me why there's a secret tunnel underneath your mansion!”
“That is an excellent question.”
“I'm not joking.”
“Neither am I.”
A metallic crash echoed from somewhere ahead.
Dante immediately moved into the passage.
I caught his sleeve.
“Please. You don't understand. Sophie said someone comes to her window every night I'm working late. What if he's still here? What if he's been watching her?”
For the first time, the hard lines of Dante's face changed.
Not softened.
Hardened into something much more dangerous.
“Then someone has made a very serious mistake.”
He turned to the nearest guard, who had appeared at the end of the corridor.
“Seal every entrance to the east wing. Nobody leaves the estate. Nobody enters. Search every room, every vehicle, every staff member's quarters.”
The guard nodded and hurried away.
Dante faced me again.
“Take your daughter to my office. Lock the door behind you.”
“You're coming with us.”
It wasn't a question.
He studied me for a moment.
Then, astonishingly, he nodded.
We hurried down the corridor, Bruno's barking echoing somewhere behind the walls. Dante kept one hand near his pistol, moving with the quiet precision of a man who had spent years expecting betrayal from every direction.
We reached his study at 11:03 p.m.
He pushed open the heavy oak door and motioned us inside.
The room smelled of leather, old books, and the faint bitterness of his untouched espresso. A fire burned in the marble fireplace. On the desk sat a framed photograph of an elegant woman with dark hair, smiling beside a younger Dante.
I had cleaned that photograph a hundred times.
I had never wondered who she was.
Dante locked the door.
Then he took a small device from his desk and pressed a button.
“Rourke. My study. Now.”
A man's voice crackled through the speaker.
“I'm on my way, sir.”
Dante set the device down.
“Now we talk.”
I sat Sophie on the leather sofa and wrapped my arms around her.
“Sweetheart, did the man ever speak to you?”
She nodded.
“What did he say?”
“He asked if Daddy gave me the star.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“What star?”
Sophie pointed to the little silver pendant she wore around her neck.
The one Miguel had supposedly given her before his death.
The one I had believed was nothing more than an inexpensive keepsake.
Dante's gaze settled on it.
His expression changed so slightly that another person might have missed it. His right hand tightened around the edge of his desk, and the color disappeared from his face.
“Isabel,” he said quietly. “Where did your husband get that pendant?”
“I don't know. He gave it to Sophie when she was little.”
“When?”
“A few weeks before he died.”
Dante stood.
“Take it off her.”
I pulled Sophie closer.
“No.”
His eyes flashed.
“That pendant may be the reason somebody entered your daughter's bedroom.”
“Then explain what you know!”
Before he could answer, the study door opened.
A tall man in a charcoal security uniform strode inside, his silver tie clip catching the firelight.
Dominic Rourke.
Head of security at the Moretti estate.
He had been the one who assured me, only three days earlier, that the servants' cottages were the safest buildings on Long Island.
He took one look at the pendant around Sophie's neck.
Then he reached inside his jacket.
Dante immediately raised his pistol.
“Don't move.”
Rourke froze.
For a second, nobody breathed.
Then a smile spread across the security chief's face.
“I'm afraid we're already too late, boss.”
From somewhere inside the walls came three deliberate knocks.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
And Bruno began to scream.
May you like
Not bark.
Scream.
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