Chapter 6 - The Message My Husband Left BehindI read Michael's note seven times.
Each time, the same questions returned.
Was he alive?
Why hadn't he called?
And what had happened eleven days ago?
Dominic entered the study after Bruno showed him the note.
He read it once.
Then again.
His face became terrifyingly still.
“Where was this found?”
“Inside the music box.”
“Did you know it was there?”
“No.”
Dominic turned toward the window.
“Locker 317.”
“Do you know what that means?”
“Not yet.”
I stood abruptly.
“Then we go there.”
He turned.
“Claire, the location could be a trap.”
“It's my husband's message!”
“And whoever wrote it may be trying to lead us into danger.”
“Then let me be in danger. I've been living with questions for four years!”
My voice cracked.
I hated that it did.
“I buried him in my mind because I couldn't afford to spend every day wondering whether he was dead. I told my daughter her father might return because I couldn't bear to tell her the truth. I worked until my hands bled, Dominic. And now you're telling me he may have been alive this whole time?”
Dominic said nothing.
“Don't you dare ask me to wait.”
After a long silence, he nodded.
“We leave in twenty minutes.”
Locker 317 was located inside a private storage facility near the old railway yards in Queens.
Dominic brought Bruno, two additional guards, and a locksmith. I insisted on accompanying them.
Rosie remained at the townhouse with a trusted female guard named Elena, who promised to make hot chocolate and read Christmas stories.
I kissed my daughter goodbye.
“Mommy will be back soon.”
“Will you find Daddy?”
I couldn't answer.
So I hugged her instead.
At the storage facility, Dominic examined every corridor before allowing the locksmith to approach the locker.
The brass key fit.
Inside lay a black metal case.
Dominic opened it.
There were bank statements, shipping invoices, photographs, and a sealed envelope bearing Michael's name.
I grabbed the envelope.
The letter inside began with an apology.
Claire,
If you've found this, then somebody has finally discovered what I left behind.
I never went to Chicago.
I wanted to come home. Every day, I wanted to come home.
My vision blurred.
Four years ago, I discovered that Carlo Moretti was using our shipping business to move money through illegal companies. He was preparing to remove Dominic and take control of the organization.
I gathered proof. Before I could give it to Dominic, I was intercepted.
They told me that if I contacted you or Rosie, you would both be killed.
I believed them.
I'm sorry.
The letter ended with an address and three words.
THE HAWTHORNE FARMHOUSE.
Dominic read over my shoulder.
His face drained of color.
“What's wrong?” I asked.
He looked at Bruno.
“Where is the farmhouse?”
Bruno hesitated.
“It's an abandoned Moretti property in Westchester County.”
“Is anyone there?”
“According to our records, no.”
Dominic took out his phone and made a call.
“I want every available man sent to Hawthorne Farmhouse. Now.”
Then another call.
“And get me the county property records, the utility bills, and the private security contracts. Somebody has been paying to maintain that place.”
He ended the call.
“Michael may have been held there.”
I could barely breathe.
“Then he's alive?”
Dominic looked at the photographs in the case.
“I don't know.”
One photograph showed Michael standing beside a black vehicle.
Another showed Carlo Moretti entering the warehouse where Michael had disappeared.
The final photograph was dated eleven days earlier.
It showed a man standing behind a curtained window at Hawthorne Farmhouse.
His face was thin, his hair almost entirely gray.
But I recognized him.
It was Michael.
I pressed a hand over my mouth.
Dominic took the photograph from me.
“Bruno, we move now.”
Before we reached the exit, Bruno's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed instantly.
“Boss, there's a problem.”
Dominic stopped.
“What?”
Bruno looked at me.
“Someone just called the townhouse.”
My heart dropped.
“Rosie?”
“She's safe,” he said quickly. “But the caller left a message.”
He played the recording.
Carlo's voice emerged from the speaker.
“Bring me the ledger, Dominic. You have until midnight.”
A pause followed.
May you like
Then his voice lowered.
“Or the next time you hear from me, you won't be hearing a little girl at the other end of the line.”
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