Chapter 3 - The cemetery was sealed before sunrise.Police vehicles lined the road.
No reporters had arrived yet.
Lorenzo stood beyond the yellow tape and stared at the grave.
The marble plaque still carried Isabella's name.
Her photograph smiled at everyone from the headstone.
But beneath it, the earth had been disturbed.
The coffin had been removed.
No body.
No remains.
Nothing.
Rachel met Lorenzo beside the excavation.
“The grave was opened sometime after midnight.”
“By who?”
“We don't know.”
“Security cameras?”
“Cut.”
Lorenzo's jaw tightened.
“Professional?”
“Yes.”
He looked at the fresh tire marks near the service road.
“How did they remove the coffin without anyone seeing?”
Rachel glanced at him.
“That is what we're trying to determine.”
Lorenzo knelt.
Something was lying in the soil.
A silver chain.
He recognized it.
Isabella's necklace.
He picked it up.
She had worn it the day she died.
Or the day he thought she died.
Rachel noticed his expression.
“You're sure?”
Lorenzo nodded.
“I gave it to her on our fifth anniversary.”
He looked at the grave.
Then at the necklace.
A terrible thought entered his mind.
If someone had opened the grave because they knew Isabella was alive, why would the coffin have ever contained a body?
Rachel's phone rang again.
She listened.
Then frowned.
“Dentist.”
“What?”
“The medical examiner has a problem.”
“What kind?”
“The dental records don't match.”
Lorenzo stared at her.
“Explain.”
Rachel walked him toward the command vehicle.
“The original identification was based on dental records, correct?”
“Yes.”
“The dentist who submitted them was Dr. Allen Price.”
“What about him?”
“He says he never personally examined the remains.”
Lorenzo stopped.
“What?”
“He was given digital records.”
“By whom?”
“He doesn't know.”
Lorenzo stared at her.
“That's impossible.”
Rachel handed him a folder.
Inside was the original identification.
Everything looked legitimate.
Signature.
Clinic number.
Dental chart.
Official seal.
But one thing was missing.
The date of examination.
Rachel pointed.
“This was added later.”
Lorenzo felt the pieces shifting.
The crash.
The body.
The coffin.
The records.
None of them made sense anymore.
“What about the DNA?”
“Still pending.”
Lorenzo's phone buzzed.
It was Mason.
“We found the vehicle.”
“What vehicle?”
“The black SUV from the warehouse footage.”
“Where?”
“Across the river.”
Lorenzo left immediately.
The SUV was abandoned beneath an overpass.
No plates.
No fingerprints.
No useful documents.
But inside the trunk, investigators found a sealed plastic container.
Rachel opened it.
Inside was a laptop.
Lorenzo recognized the case.
It belonged to Isabella.
His breathing stopped.
“She had that the night she disappeared.”
Rachel looked at him.
“Then whoever had the SUV had access to her belongings.”
The laptop was damaged but recoverable.
Technicians worked for hours.
Eventually, the screen came alive.
A password prompt appeared.
Lorenzo tried Isabella's birthday.
Wrong.
Their anniversary.
Wrong.
The name of their first dog.
Wrong.
Then Emma's name.
Nothing.
Rachel said, “Could she have used something only she knew?”
Lorenzo stared at the keyboard.
Then remembered.
Isabella once told him:
“People think passwords should be complicated. Mine isn't. Mine is the thing everyone forgets.”
He entered one word.
“Trust.”
The computer unlocked.
Folders appeared.
Most had been deleted.
One remained.
A spreadsheet.
Then another.
Then dozens.
Payments.
Invoices.
Transfers.
Offshore accounts.
Shell companies.
Lorenzo stared at the screen.
Nine point four million dollars.
Over eighteen months.
All moved from DeLuca-controlled companies.
Rachel looked at him.
“Does this mean anything to you?”
Lorenzo's face went pale.
“These are port invoices.”
“What does that mean?”
“They're fake.”
Rachel looked closer.
“Are you certain?”
“I signed some of them.”
“That makes you part of the approval chain.”
Lorenzo stared.
Someone had been stealing millions from his company.
And Isabella had discovered it.
He opened another file.
A list of names.
Directors.
Accountants.
Shipping managers.
Security contractors.
One name appeared again and again.
Vincent Moreau.
Lorenzo's hand stopped.
Rachel noticed.
“Who is he?”
“My best friend.”
“Your COO?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Twenty-two years.”
Silence filled the car.
Then Rachel asked the question Lorenzo did not want to answer.
“Was he at the funeral?”
“Yes.”
“Did he know the coffin contained someone else?”
“I don't know.”
Rachel closed the laptop.
“We need to find Isabella before he knows we're looking.”
Lorenzo looked toward the city.
“Too late.”
“What?”
“He already knows.”
His phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
Lorenzo answered.
No voice.
Only static.
Then a woman's breathing.
He froze.
“Isabella?”
A whisper came through the line.
“Lorenzo...”
His heart slammed against his ribs.
“Where are you?”
Silence.
Then:
“Don't trust Vincent.”
The call ended.
Lorenzo stared at the phone.
Rachel immediately reached for it.
“Can you trace it?”
Mason shook his head.
“Call lasted eleven seconds.”
Lorenzo replayed the recording.
Isabella's voice was barely audible.
But there was one sound beneath it.
A dog barking.
Then a metallic rattle.
Lorenzo looked at Mason.
“Find the location.”
Mason shook his head.
“We're trying.”
Lorenzo played it again.
The metallic sound came first.
Then the bark.
Then Isabella whispered:
“Please...”
The line died.
Mason suddenly looked up.
“Sir.”
“What?”
“We may have another problem.”
He showed Lorenzo a security photo from the DeLuca estate.
The image had been captured twenty minutes earlier.
Vincent Moreau was standing outside Lorenzo's office.
Looking directly at the camera.
May you like
And in his hand...
Was Isabella's silver necklace.
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