Chapter 2 - Six Hours Until Ten
We began with sound.
The ransom video contained more information than Vittorio realized.
I had Marco isolate every audio layer.
The dripping water was consistent.
The room had a metal ceiling drain.
The electrical hum came from an old fluorescent fixture.
A distant horn sounded every ninety-three seconds.
The echo was wide.
Industrial space.
The wood beneath Annie's chair creaked differently when she shifted.
Marco ran the audio through our systems.
“We can narrow it down to five locations.”
“Which ones?”
“Three warehouses. An abandoned ferry terminal. One old pumping station.”
“The pumping station.”
“How do you know?”
“Water echo.”
He replayed the sound.
I listened.
There.
A vibration.
A low mechanical hum.
“Pumping station.”
Marco swore under his breath.
“That's twenty miles east.”
“Send four men.”
“Four?”
“If Vittorio has guards, more people will alert him.”
“And if Annie is there?”
“We don't go in until we confirm.”
The first team left.
I remained in the library.
Isabella sat across from me.
She looked like a stranger.
My sister had been one of the people I trusted most.
But trust was fragile now.
“What else did Julian tell you?” I asked.
“He said the red key opens your father's old vault.”
I frowned.
“The vault was sealed.”
“He said it contains something that can destroy the Moretti family.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
I stood.
“Then why steal it?”
“I don't know.”
Her voice trembled.
“Julian kept saying your father left something behind.”
My father had died eight years ago.
He had been the founder of the Moretti empire.
The docks.
The warehouses.
The transport companies.
The restaurants.
The private security business.
He had built everything from almost nothing.
But he had also built enemies.
Including Vittorio.
And including people inside the family.
I remembered the night my father died.
He called me into his room.
His voice was weak.
He placed a small metal box in my hands.
“Never trust the person who tells you everyone else is dangerous.”
I hadn't understood.
Now I did.
My father had known there was a traitor.
Maybe he had known who.
Then the phone rang.
Marco.
“We found the pumping station.”
I stood.
“Annie?”
“Negative.”
“Describe it.”
“Exactly like the audio.”
My heart sank.
“They moved her.”
“But we found something.”
“What?”
“A fresh boot print.”
“Whose?”
“Military style. Size eleven.”
I remembered Julian's shoes.
Size eleven.
I said nothing.
Marco continued.
“And there's a camera hidden across the road.”
“Get the footage.”
“We're doing it now.”
He paused.
“Alessandro, there's something else.”
“What?”
“A vehicle left twelve minutes before our team arrived.”
“License?”
“We have it.”
“Run it.”
Seconds passed.
Then Marco's voice changed.
“It belongs to Julian.”
I stood.
“Where is he now?”
“We tracked his phone.”
“Location?”
“Your wife's memorial chapel.”
I froze.
My wife, Elena, had died four years earlier from an illness that had shattered our family.
Annie had been only two.
She barely remembered her.
The chapel was the place Annie visited whenever she missed her mother.
Julian knew that.
He knew it better than anyone.
“Get everyone there.”
We drove without lights.
I sat in the back of the armored vehicle.
Isabella beside me.
Marco in front.
My hands were steady.
My heart was not.
As we approached the chapel, I heard church bells.
Not the real ones.
A recording.
Someone was using the loudspeakers.
Julian was trying to cover other sounds.
“Stop the vehicle.”
Marco turned.
“Why?”
“Listen.”
We opened the doors.
The rain had stopped.
Wind moved through the trees.
And beneath the artificial bells, I heard something familiar.
A children's music box.
Annie's music box.
I had given it to her for her sixth birthday.
It played a melody her mother used to sing.
“She’s here,” I whispered.
We entered through the side door.
The chapel was dark.
My men spread out.
I followed the sound.
Music.
Then silence.
A small voice said:
“Daddy?”
I froze.
“Annie?”
No answer.
Then footsteps.
Tiny.
Running.
I moved toward them.
Annie crashed into my arms.
I dropped to my knees.
She was shaking.
I touched her face.
“Are you hurt?”
“My knee.”
“Anything else?”
She shook her head.
“Where are they?”
“I don't know.”
“Who brought you here?”
She hesitated.
“Uncle Julian.”
My jaw tightened.
“What happened?”
“He told me it was a game.”
“Then what?”
“He gave me candy.”
I felt sick.
“Did he hurt you?”
“No.”
“Who tied you up?”
“A man I don't know.”
“Vittorio?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
I stopped.
“What did he look like?”
“Like Grandpa.”
My blood went cold.
“My father?”
Annie shook her head.
“Not Grandpa.”
She reached up and touched my face.
“He smelled like Grandpa.”
I stood slowly.
My father had been dead for eight years.
Unless someone had been using his old cologne.
Or unless Annie had heard something else.
Then she whispered:
“He said you would understand when you opened the red door.”
“What red door?”
“The door under the house.”
I turned to Marco.
He whispered:
“There is no door under the house.”
Annie shook her head.
“Yes, there is.”
She pointed toward me.
“Grandpa showed me once.”
I couldn't breathe.
My father had taken Annie into the basement before he died?
Impossible.
She was two years old.
She could not remember him.
Unless she remembered something my family had tried to erase.
Then the chapel lights came on.
Julian stood at the back.
He was holding a gun.
Everyone raised theirs.
“Don't,” he said.
I stepped forward.
“Let her go.”
He laughed.
“She's already with you.”
“Then drop the weapon.”
Julian's voice became strangely calm.
“You still don't understand.”
“Explain.”
“Your father wasn't the man you thought he was.”
The chapel went silent.
Julian threw a key onto the floor.
It landed with a metallic clink.
“Open the red door.”
Then he ran.
My men chased him.
But Julian had planned another exit.
He vanished into the rain.
I picked up the key.
Annie clung to my coat.
“Daddy?”
“Yes?”
“Uncle Julian said the bad man isn't Vittorio.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who is it?”
May you like
She whispered:
“He said it was someone who lives with us.”
