Chapter 3 - The Name Under the FloorboardsWe drove through Brooklyn without speaking.
Rafael sat in the back seat.
I sat beside him.
Two armed men occupied the front.
Nobody trusted anybody.
Especially me.
The photograph of Bella remained in my hand.
“Who took her?” I asked.
Rafael's jaw flexed.
“I don't know.”
“You said Vincent contacted you.”
“He did.”
“Then you lied.”
“I said I didn't know who took her.”
“You let me believe it was Vincent.”
“You wouldn't have come with us otherwise.”
I stared out the window.
“Still lying.”
He glanced at me.
“You disappeared for three years.”
“You buried me.”
“I thought you betrayed me.”
“You never looked for me.”
“I did.”
I turned.
“What?”
His eyes met mine.
“I spent eighteen months searching.”
That surprised me.
He looked away.
“I found your apartment burned.”
My pulse quickened.
“I had an apartment?”
“Not anymore.”
“Where?”
“Queens.”
I swallowed.
“They burned everything.”
“I know.”
“Then why did you stop looking?”
He didn't answer.
I already knew.
Someone had convinced him I was dead.
Someone inside his organization.
We arrived at a townhouse in Manhattan.
Rafael's private residence.
The security was absurd.
Men at every entrance.
Cameras.
Steel gates.
But I noticed something immediately.
The cameras on the east side had been replaced recently.
“Why are those new?”
Rafael looked at them.
“They were damaged.”
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
“By whom?”
“We don't know.”
I stared at him.
“You've been compromised for weeks.”
He gave me a cold look.
“That's why I need you.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't work for you anymore.”
“You never stopped.”
I stepped toward him.
“You lost the right to decide that three years ago.”
He opened his mouth.
A little voice interrupted.
“Papa?”
Bella stood at the top of the staircase.
My heart jumped.
Rafael turned.
“Bella!”
She ran down.
He caught her.
She hugged him tightly.
“I got scared.”
“I know.”
She looked at me.
“Sarah saved Papa too?”
Rafael froze.
I frowned.
“What?”
Bella frowned too.
“At the warehouse.”
My blood ran cold.
“What did you say?”
She looked at her father.
“Papa showed me the picture.”
Rafael stared at her.
“I never showed you that picture.”
Bella thought.
“Maybe Mommy did.”
The room went silent.
Rafael slowly lowered her to the floor.
“Bella, when did Mommy show you pictures of the warehouse?”
“I don't remember.”
She frowned.
“She said one day I would understand.”
Rafael's face changed.
Bella's mother, Elena, had died five years ago.
Or so everyone believed.
I had never met her.
But suddenly I remembered something.
Three years ago, before Warehouse Seven, Rafael had asked me to investigate a series of payments made from a private account.
Those payments were sent to a woman named Elena Vale.
I had assumed it was a business contact.
I had been wrong.
“Rafael.”
He looked at me.
“Elena knew.”
“Knew what?”
“The money.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I think she knew about Vincent.”
He stared at me.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“Because Elena died before Vincent ever left the organization.”
“Or that's what you were told.”
The room fell silent again.
Then Bella spoke.
“Mommy wasn't sick.”
Rafael turned toward her.
“What?”
Bella looked confused.
“Mommy told me not to trust Uncle Vince.”
Rafael went completely still.
My stomach dropped.
“Uncle Vince?”
Bella nodded.
“She said he was bad.”
Rafael crouched down.
“Bella, where did you hear that?”
“From Mommy.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Then she whispered:
“Mommy said Uncle Vince made Daddy bleed.”
Rafael looked at me.
The color had drained from his face.
I felt the same cold fear I had felt three years ago.
Elena had known.
And if Elena had known about Vincent, then Warehouse Seven had never been a random attack.
It had been a cleanup.
Someone had killed her.
Someone had tried to kill Rafael.
And someone had tried to erase me.
The question was why.
That night, I was taken to a guest bedroom.
Two guards remained outside.
I did not sleep.
At 2:13 a.m., I heard a soft scraping noise.
I sat up.
Again.
Scrape.
Scrape.
It was coming from beneath the floor.
I walked toward the corner.
The sound stopped.
Then my phone vibrated.
No number.
Unknown sender.
One message.
Look under the third floorboard from the window.
I stared at the floor.
Slowly, I knelt.
The board came loose more easily than it should have.
Beneath it was a small metal box.
Inside was a photograph.
A key.
And a folded piece of paper.
I opened it.
Only one sentence had been written.
Nora, if you're reading this, Elena failed to protect you.
My hands began shaking.
Below that was another line.
And Rafael still doesn't know why you were really shot.
I heard footsteps outside my door.
I shoved everything beneath my shirt.
The handle turned.
Rafael walked inside.
His face was pale.
“Nora.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
He closed the door.
Then he said:
“I just found out something about Warehouse Seven.”
I stayed silent.
He stared directly into my eyes.
“You weren't the target.”
May you like
My heartbeat stopped.
“You were the witness.”
Related Stories
