Chapter 3 - The Secret Hidden In Her Father’s Old Tailor Shop
The DeLuca townhouse was nothing like Evelyn expected.
She had imagined something dark.
Gothic.
Maybe intimidating.
Instead, Matteo's private residence on the Gold Coast was warm.
Old books.
Wood-burning fireplace.
Soft lamps.
The kind of expensive that did not need to announce itself.
Evelyn sat on a velvet sofa while a physician examined a small cut on her palm from the broken glass in the stairwell.
Matteo stood near the window.
He had not asked her to stay.
He simply told his men that she was not leaving alone.
For some reason, she had listened.
The physician cleaned her palm.
"Nothing serious."
"Thank you."
When the man left, Evelyn looked at Matteo.
"My father."
Matteo remained silent.
"What did your men find?"
"A ledger."
"What does it mean?"
"That depends on whether the documents are authentic."
"Where are they?"
He crossed the room and placed a thick black folder on the table.
Evelyn stared at it.
There was a faded label.
HART TAILORING.
Her hands shook.
"My father's?"
"Yes."
She opened it.
Inside were handwritten measurements.
Names.
Dates.
Bank transfers.
Fabric orders.
Shipments.
Evelyn read one page.
Then another.
Nothing made sense.
"This isn't possible."
Matteo sat across from her.
"Your father used to do contract tailoring for several private security firms."
"I know."
"He also made uniforms for organizations that officially didn't exist."
Evelyn looked up.
"Criminal organizations?"
Matteo did not answer.
She understood.
"My father wasn't a criminal."
"No."
"Then why does he have these?"
"Because he was useful."
She stared at him.
Matteo continued.
"Years ago, your father repaired a coat for a man who was carrying evidence against one of Chicago's biggest criminal networks."
"Which network?"
"The Hawthorne Syndicate."
Evelyn had heard the name.
Everyone had.
They were less visible than the DeLucas.
Which made them more dangerous.
"Your father discovered something in the lining of that coat."
"What?"
"A list of names."
"Politicians?"
"Judges. Police commanders. businessmen. People who could make arrests disappear."
Evelyn's throat went dry.
"He kept the list."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because he thought someone would need proof."
Matteo opened another file.
"Three months before your father lost his old business partner, the man disappeared."
Evelyn looked down.
"My father's friend?"
"Arthur Bell."
Evelyn knew him.
He had taught her to sew.
She remembered the smell of his old shop.
The radio.
The dusty windows.
The brown thread boxes.
"He didn't disappear," she whispered.
Matteo looked at her.
"He told me Arthur died in a car accident."
"He didn't."
Evelyn's stomach twisted.
"What happened to him?"
"We believe he was killed."
The room became silent.
Evelyn closed the folder.
"No."
"There's more."
She looked up.
Matteo's expression had softened.
"Your father hid the evidence."
"Where?"
"We don't know."
Evelyn laughed weakly.
"He wouldn't know how to hide anything."
Matteo looked at her hands.
"You're wrong."
"What do you mean?"
"Your father was a tailor."
"So?"
"He knew better than most men how to hide something in plain sight."
The answer hit her.
The shop.
Evelyn jumped to her feet.
"The measurements."
Matteo stood.
"What?"
"My father recorded everything."
She grabbed her coat.
"He had this old habit. He would measure every client twice, even if they were repeat customers. He said numbers never betrayed you."
Matteo picked up his keys.
"Let's go."
The shop was dark when they arrived.
Snow had started again.
Evelyn unlocked the front door.
She entered first.
Everything looked normal.
Too normal.
Her father had gone to bed hours ago.
She called his name.
No answer.
"Where is he?" Matteo asked.
"Upstairs."
They found him asleep in a chair.
Or appearing to be asleep.
Evelyn rushed to him.
"Dad?"
His eyes opened.
"Evelyn?"
He looked at Matteo.
The color drained from his face.
"Why is he here?"
Evelyn knelt.
"Someone tried to hurt me."
Her father's expression changed.
Fear.
Real fear.
"You need to leave."
"Why?"
"Because they know."
"Know what?"
Her father stared at her.
"Everything."
Matteo stepped closer.
"Mr. Hart."
Her father looked at him.
"I know who you are."
"Then you know why I'm here."
"To bury my daughter."
Matteo's jaw tightened.
"No."
"You should."
"Not happening."
Evelyn looked between them.
"What did you hide?"
Her father closed his eyes.
"The Bellwether Ledger."
"What is that?"
"The list."
Matteo's face changed.
"Where is it?"
Her father looked at Evelyn.
"You have it."
Evelyn stared.
"What?"
"You've had it for years."
She shook her head.
"No."
He smiled sadly.
"Your favorite dress."
She remembered.
The blue dress her mother had made when Evelyn was fifteen.
The dress was old.
Stored upstairs.
She ran.
Matteo followed.
Her father called after them.
"Inside the hem!"
Evelyn reached the old cedar chest.
She found the dress.
Her hands shook as she cut open the bottom hem.
A thin metal strip fell onto the floor.
Inside it was a tiny flash drive.
Matteo picked it up.
Then a gunshot shattered the front window.
Glass exploded.
Matteo pulled Evelyn down.
His men moved.
Her father ducked behind the table.
A second shot struck the wall.
Matteo shouted.
"Lights off!"
The shop went black.
Evelyn crouched beside him.
"Who are they?"
"The people who have been looking for that drive."
"Why now?"
Matteo's voice became cold.
"Because Vanessa just gave them your location."
Evelyn's blood ran cold.
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Her cousin had not simply tried to humiliate her.
She had delivered her to the wolves.
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