Chapter 8 - Ninety-One CoinsThe ringing stopped.
The house remained silent.
Vincent moved upstairs with Daniel behind him.
The phone sat on the kitchen counter.
Old.
Black.
Wired into a dead line.
It should not have been ringing.
Vincent picked it up.
Nobody spoke.
Then a voice said:
“You have ten minutes.”
Vincent recognized Carlo.
“What do you want?”
“The girl.”
“She stays with me.”
“Then Elena dies.”
Daniel stepped toward the phone.
Carlo heard him breathe.
“Daniel.”
The room went cold.
“I wondered how long it would take you to stop hiding.”
Daniel grabbed the receiver.
“You touch her and I kill you.”
Carlo laughed.
“You said that twelve years ago.”
Daniel's voice shook.
“You lied.”
“No.”
Carlo's tone became almost gentle.
“You lied.”
The line went dead.
Vincent turned toward his brother.
“What does he want?”
“Lily.”
“Obviously.”
“No.”
Daniel stared at him.
“He wants whatever Elena gave her.”
Vincent thought of the coins.
The wolf carvings.
Ninety-one of them.
He pulled out a notebook.
“Tell me everything about the Fridays.”
Lily looked confused.
Vincent crouched.
“When your mother gave you two dollars, did anything ever happen afterward?”
She thought.
“Sometimes people came.”
“What people?”
“I don't know.”
“Cars?”
“Yes.”
“Black?”
“Mostly.”
“Did they leave anything?”
She nodded.
“Always.”
“What?”
“Coins.”
Vincent spread the coins they had recovered from the apartment on the table.
“Like these?”
Lily nodded.
Every Friday.
For ninety-one weeks.
Someone had been paying two dollars.
Not to her.
Through her.
Vincent picked up one of the coins.
On the edge was a number.
Then another.
Another.
“They're numbered.”
Daniel stared.
“Not coins.”
“What?”
“Pieces.”
“Pieces of what?”
Daniel looked terrified.
“The ledger.”
Vincent's heart sank.
“What do you mean?”
“Your father never kept the ledger in one place.”
Daniel grabbed the coins.
“Every chapter of it was hidden with a different person.”
“People we can find?”
“No.”
Daniel turned one coin over.
“These are coordinates.”
Vincent looked closer.
Tiny marks lined the edge.
Latitude.
Longitude.
Numbers.
“Oh my God.”
“The ledger was never a book.”
Daniel whispered.
“It was a map.”
Lily suddenly said:
“I know where the jar is.”
Vincent looked at her.
“Where?”
“At the diner.”
Vincent frowned.
“The diner?”
“I left it there.”
“Why?”
“The man with the red tie took it.”
Vincent went still.
“Vale.”
She nodded.
“But he gave it back.”
“When?”
“This morning.”
Vincent reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone.
He called Sal.
“Go to the diner.”
Sal answered immediately.
“Already there.”
Vincent froze.
“You are?”
“Yes.”
“What do you see?”
Silence.
Then Sal said:
“Vincent.”
His voice was wrong.
“What?”
“The jar is here.”
“And?”
“There are no coins.”
Vincent's stomach dropped.
“What is there?”
Sal whispered.
“A photograph.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
“What photograph?”
“A picture of you.”
“Alone?”
“No.”
Vincent waited.
Sal's voice broke.
“You're standing beside Carlo.”
Vincent's blood ran cold.
“And you're both holding guns.”
Vincent stared at Daniel.
Daniel looked at the floor.
The photograph was dated eighteen years ago.
Vincent was twenty.
Carlo was standing beside him.
And in the background was a woman Vincent had never seen before.
Lily pointed at the photograph.
“That lady is my grandmother.”
Daniel looked up.
“What?”
Lily touched the photograph.
“She has the same necklace Mom wears.”
Vincent studied the woman.
Then something clicked.
The necklace.
The coins.
The ledger.
The hidden room.
The missing recording.
He turned to Daniel.
“Who is that woman?”
Daniel answered.
“My mother.”
Vincent stared.
Their mother had died eighteen years ago.
Unless she hadn't.
At that exact moment, every phone in the house rang at once.
And a voice came through all three.
A woman's voice.
Old.
Calm.
Alive.
“Vincent, darling.”
May you like
He nearly dropped his weapon.
“It's time you came home.”
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