Chapter 4 - The Grave That Wasn't Empty
The cemetery sat beyond the city, hidden beneath bare winter trees.
Sophie had not visited her father's grave since the funeral.
She had been afraid.
Afraid that if she stood there, grief would remember her.
Enzo stayed beside her as they walked.
Rocco and two guards remained several yards behind.
"Why bring me here?"
"Because if the ledger is tied to your father's code, the burial site is a logical hiding place."
"He didn't hide things at his grave."
"Maybe he didn't."
Sophie stopped.
The headstone was simple.
ADRIAN MATTHEW CASTELLAN.
BELOVED FATHER. HONEST JUDGE. FAITHFUL SERVANT.
She stared.
"Honest."
Enzo stood beside her.
"He was."
"You didn't know him."
"I knew what he did."
Sophie touched the stone.
"I knew his voice."
A memory hit.
Her father at the piano.
"Music remembers what people try to forget."
She gasped.
Enzo noticed.
"What?"
"The grave."
"What about it?"
"He used to say that."
She knelt.
The ground looked untouched.
But something bothered her.
A small crack near the base of the headstone.
She brushed away the dirt.
There was a metal ring.
Enzo crouched beside her.
They pulled it together.
A hidden compartment opened beneath the stone.
Inside was a small key.
And a folded piece of paper.
Sophie opened it.
There were six lines of musical notation.
Her hands trembled.
"What does it say?"
"It's not notes."
"What then?"
"A map."
Enzo stared.
"To what?"
She pointed.
"Brooklyn."
"The old courthouse?"
"No."
She looked again.
"An abandoned theater."
Enzo's face changed.
"Which one?"
"The Bellmont."
Rocco approached.
"Boss."
Enzo showed him the paper.
Rocco cursed.
"That place burned down."
Sophie looked up.
"My father's office burned."
"So did the theater," Rocco replied.
Her pulse quickened.
The fire.
The newspaper reports had said the theater fire was an accident.
But now she understood.
The theater had been connected to her father.
"Take us there."
Enzo shook his head.
"Not yet."
"Why?"
"Because I don't take my people into an obvious trap."
"Then what do we do?"
"Set our own trap."
They returned to the estate after dark.
Enzo spread maps across his office.
Sophie stood by the window.
She had never been inside a room like this.
Books.
Weapons.
Photographs.
A fireplace.
On the desk sat a framed picture.
Enzo and Mateo.
She picked it up.
"You loved him."
Enzo looked at the photograph.
"He was everything I wasn't."
"What does that mean?"
"He believed people could be better."
"Maybe they can."
"That's why he's dead."
She set the picture down.
"You don't have to be like this forever."
Enzo laughed softly.
"You met me forty-eight hours ago."
"And I've learned a lot."
"Have you?"
"You pretend you don't care."
His eyes lifted.
"Care about what?"
"People."
He stepped toward her.
"Don't confuse restraint with kindness."
"I'm not."
He stopped inches away.
"What do you think you know about me?"
"That you keep saving people while pretending you're threatening them."
His expression tightened.
"You're dangerous."
"Because I play piano?"
"Because you see too much."
She looked at him.
"Maybe you see too little."
The moment stretched.
Rocco knocked.
Enzo stepped away.
"Come in."
"The surveillance team found something."
A laptop was placed on the desk.
Security footage.
A man entering the old Castellan property.
Sophie leaned closer.
The image was blurry.
But the man turned.
She recognized him.
Her father's former clerk.
"Elliot."
Enzo frowned.
"Who?"
"He worked for my father."
"He died."
"No."
Sophie stared at the screen.
"He was listed as missing. He never died."
Rocco looked at Enzo.
"That's bad."
"How bad?"
"He's connected to D'Angelo."
Sophie felt sick.
The man who had helped destroy her father was still alive.
And he knew where she was.
The phone rang.
Unknown number.
Enzo answered.
Nobody spoke.
Then a voice came through.
"Your father's daughter is with you."
Enzo's eyes moved to Sophie.
Vincent.
"You have until midnight."
"For what?"
"Bring Sophia Castellan to the Bellmont Theater."
"No."
A pause.
"Then someone else dies."
A photograph appeared in the message.
A woman tied to a chair.
Sophie's breath caught.
"Mother?"
Enzo took the phone.
"Who is that?"
Vincent laughed.
"You always were curious, Lorenzo."
Enzo stared.
The woman in the photograph was older, thinner, but unmistakable.
Elena Castellan.
Sophie's mother.
Alive.
Sophie felt the room spin.
"That's impossible."
Enzo caught her before she fell.
Her fingers locked around his shirt.
"My mother is alive."
"I know."
"She was declared dead."
"I know."
"Get her back."
Enzo's jaw tightened.
"We will."
"No."
She looked into his eyes.
"Not we."
"I'll go."
Enzo's expression became hard.
"You're not going alone."
"You don't understand."
"I understand perfectly."
"You don't."
She pushed away from him.
"She died protecting me."
"Apparently she didn't."
Sophie stared at the photograph.
The woman in it looked terrified.
But there was something in her eyes.
A message.
Her mother had always tapped her fingers when she couldn't speak.
Three short taps.
Two long.
Three short.
SOS.
Sophie looked at Enzo.
"She's telling me she's alive."
May you like
He understood immediately.
"Then we bring her home."
