Chapter 3 - The Recipe Book
The recipe book was missing.
Lena discovered it at seven the next morning.
Her suitcase was open.
The notebook was gone.
She searched twice.
Then three times.
Nothing.
She ran downstairs.
Raphael was already in the kitchen.
“My room was searched.”
His expression changed.
“Explain.”
“My recipe book is missing.”
He immediately spoke into his radio.
“Lock the house down.”
Lena stared at him.
“What does that mean?”
“No one leaves.”
“Except me?”
“Especially you.”
Dominic arrived ten minutes later.
He took one look at Lena's face.
“What happened?”
“The book is gone.”
His eyes hardened.
“Who entered her room?”
Raphael began listing names.
No one had.
At least officially.
Dominic looked at Lena.
“Did anyone know about the book?”
“My father.”
“And?”
“I mentioned it to you.”
“Anyone else?”
She shook her head.
Dominic turned to Raphael.
“Cameras.”
“Already checking.”
Twenty minutes later, they found something.
A laundry worker had entered the third-floor hallway at 2:13 a.m.
But she hadn't entered Lena's room.
Someone else had followed.
The camera angle caught only a shadow.
Not a face.
Dominic's expression became cold.
“Lock every exit.”
Lena watched him.
“Someone inside the house?”
“Yes.”
“Your security failed.”
“Yes.”
“You're admitting that?”
“I don't blame mistakes on other people.”
That answer surprised her.
Then Raphael returned.
“We found the laundry worker unconscious in the basement.”
Lena covered her mouth.
Dominic's expression hardened.
“Is she alive?”
“Yes.”
“Call an ambulance.”
Raphael nodded.
Lena looked at Dominic.
“Someone risked coming into your house for my mother's recipe book.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because they believe it contains the location of the ledger.”
She swallowed.
“And does it?”
“I don't know.”
Lena thought about the notebook.
Then suddenly remembered something.
“The recipes.”
Dominic looked at her.
“What?”
“My mother never wrote measurements normally.”
“What do you mean?”
“She used strange fractions.”
“Could be family notation.”
“No.”
Lena hurried to the kitchen.
She grabbed a piece of paper.
“My mother taught me that one teaspoon of salt was always written as 1/3.”
Dominic followed.
“Why?”
“I thought it was her handwriting.”
Lena opened a spare notebook and began copying.
Three tablespoons.
Two teaspoons.
Half a cup.
She converted them.
Then stopped.
Numbers.
Coordinates.
Dates.
Her hands trembled.
Dominic leaned over the paper.
“What do you see?”
“A pattern.”
She circled several numbers.
“These aren't recipes.”
“What are they?”
“I don't know yet.”
They spent four hours decoding.
By noon, they had discovered a sequence of warehouse addresses.
One address made Dominic go completely still.
“That's impossible.”
“What?”
“That warehouse burned down five years ago.”
Lena looked at him.
“Then why would my mother write it?”
Dominic didn't answer.
He called Marco.
“Get me everything on Warehouse 17.”
Marco arrived twenty minutes later.
He looked at Lena.
Then the paper.
His expression changed.
“The ledger.”
Lena crossed her arms.
“You knew.”
Marco hesitated.
Dominic's voice sharpened.
“Marco.”
“I knew Salerno believed it was there.”
“And you didn't tell me?”
Marco looked at Lena.
“We weren't sure.”
Lena laughed bitterly.
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
Marco lowered his eyes.
Dominic dismissed him.
When they were alone, Lena said, “I want to go there.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it's dangerous.”
“You need the ledger.”
“Yes.”
“Then I can help.”
“No.”
“You can't keep protecting me by locking me in rooms.”
Dominic stared at her.
“You have no idea what you're asking.”
“Then teach me.”
He looked at her for a long time.
Finally, he said, “You're stubborn.”
“So I've been told.”
“Fine.”
He picked up his coat.
“We go together.”
Lena blinked.
“You're taking me?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because if anyone comes for you, I want to be there.”
May you like
She didn't know why that sentence affected her.
But it did.
