Chapter 2 - The Man Who Knew Too Much
No one moved.
Snow tapped softly against the windows.
The red emergency lights made Frank Deluca’s face seem older than it really was.
Vincent kept the gun trained on him.
“Put the phone down.”
Frank did.
“Now tell me who scratched his face out.”
Frank’s gaze dropped toward the photograph.
“Michael did.”
Vincent frowned.
“You're lying.”
“I wish I were.”
Clara shifted Maisie higher onto her hip.
“What happened to the picture?”
“Michael was afraid of the man beside him.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“Who was he?”
Frank's jaw flexed.
“You aren't ready.”
“I've been ready for four years.”
“No.”
Frank looked at him sadly.
“You've been angry for four years. That's different.”
Vincent nearly pulled the trigger.
Then Maisie whispered from Clara's shoulder.
“Don't shoot Santa.”
Everybody turned.
“What did you say?” Vincent asked.
She pointed at Frank's tie.
“It has Santa.”
Frank glanced down.
A tiny red Christmas ornament hung from his tie clip.
For the first time that night, Vincent saw fear in Frank's eyes.
“You weren't supposed to wear that,” Frank murmured.
“What?”
Frank looked toward Clara.
“Where did she get the phrase ‘quiet hallway’?”
Clara shook her head.
“She says things from dreams.”
Frank swallowed.
“Michael used that phrase.”
Vincent stared.
“Why?”
“Because the quiet hallway wasn't a hallway.”
Frank closed his eyes.
“It was a room.”
He walked to Michael's old bedroom.
There, he pointed toward the wall behind the wardrobe.
“Your brother built a false compartment.”
Vincent moved the wardrobe aside.
At first nothing happened.
Then he noticed a narrow line in the wood.
He pressed it.
A section of the wall opened.
Inside was a bundle of letters.
Michael's handwriting filled the pages.
Vincent read the first one.
Frank watched him.
“What does it say?”
Vincent's voice was quiet.
“Michael wrote that he suspected someone inside the organization was selling shipping schedules.”
Clara moved closer.
“Who?”
“No name.”
Vincent continued reading.
“He says the person had access to everything.”
Frank nodded.
“He wasn't sure.”
“And you knew.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because Michael made me promise.”
Vincent slammed the letter onto the desk.
“My brother was murdered!”
Frank's voice broke.
“I know.”
“And you protected his secret?”
“I protected his chance to survive.”
Vincent froze.
“What?”
Frank stepped closer.
“That's the part nobody told you.”
Clara's face tightened.
“You're saying Michael might have survived?”
Frank looked at her.
“He did.”
Vincent's world stopped.
“You're lying.”
“No.”
“Where is he?”
Frank shook his head.
“I don't know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I watched him disappear.”
“How?”
“Because if I followed him, Kane would kill everyone he loved.”
Vincent stared.
“Kane.”
He said the name slowly.
“Edward Kane?”
Frank nodded.
The family lawyer.
The quiet man who had managed Moretti estate paperwork for years.
The man who had handled Michael's supposed death certificate.
The man who had told Vincent, more than once, that grief made people paranoid.
Vincent's hand moved to his phone.
“Where is he?”
“Gone.”
“Find him.”
Frank shook his head.
“You don't understand.”
“Then explain.”
“Kane wasn't operating alone.”
“Who else?”
Frank looked at Vincent.
“Your father.”
Vincent stopped.
“My father died six years ago.”
“His empire didn't.”
Silence.
Frank explained that Kane had used companies once connected to Vincent's father to hide illegal operations.
Michael had discovered them.
He planned to expose everything.
But someone sabotaged him.
On Christmas Eve, four years earlier, Michael was lured to Warehouse Twelve.
He was shot.
Frank arrived before the police.
Michael was alive.
“He told me to call you,” Frank said. “Then Kane arrived.”
Vincent’s voice shook.
“What did Kane do?”
“He took Michael.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“And then?”
“Kane staged the body.”
Vincent stared at the floor.
“Whose body?”
Frank did not answer.
Clara whispered,
“Oh God.”
Frank continued.
“One of Kane's men was already dead. Similar height. Similar build. Michael's ring and coat were placed on him.”
Vincent's face went white.
“I identified another man.”
“Yes.”
“You let me identify him.”
“I was trying to keep Michael alive.”
Vincent turned toward him.
“How?”
“By making Kane believe Michael was dead too.”
Clara understood.
“He thought Vincent wouldn't keep searching.”
“That was the idea.”
“Then why didn't Michael come home?”
Frank looked at her.
“Because Kane had Daniel.”
Clara froze.
“My husband?”
Frank nodded.
“He used Daniel to keep Michael hidden.”
The room became painfully silent.
Clara's voice came out almost soundless.
“Daniel is alive?”
Frank did not answer.
That was answer enough.
Vincent turned to Clara.
“Do you know where he is?”
“No.”
“Did he ever tell you anything?”
She hesitated.
“There was a blue envelope.”
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
“What was in it?”
“A photograph of Michael.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“Because I didn't know him.”
“You knew enough to be afraid.”
“Yes.”
Clara looked down.
“My husband disappeared three months before Michael.”
Frank corrected her.
“Daniel didn't disappear.”
Clara looked at him.
“He was taken.”
Before anyone could say more, Leo rushed into the hallway.
“Vincent.”
“What?”
“Black SUV at the north gate.”
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Let them in.”
Leo stared.
“Are you sure?”
“They came for something.”
Vincent looked at the open wall.
“I want to know what.”
The SUV rolled through the gates.
A man stepped out carrying a white envelope.
He walked to the front door alone.
Leo searched him.
Then delivered the envelope.
Vincent opened it.
Inside was a photograph of Clara's old apartment.
A photograph taken through the window.
Maisie was visible inside.
So was Clara.
On the back were four words.
SHE IS THE KEY NOW.
Clara's knees weakened.
Vincent caught her.
“Don't worry.”
She looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“Because whoever sent this made one mistake.”
“What?”
“They showed me where to look.”
Vincent handed the photograph to Leo.
“Find that apartment.”
“It was demolished last year.”
“Then find who owns the land.”
Leo left.
Frank looked at Vincent.
“You're walking into a trap.”
Vincent's expression hardened.
“They've already walked into mine.”
That night, the estate transformed into a fortress.
But Vincent did something no one expected.
He put a Christmas tree in the foyer.
Clara looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because I'm tired of letting dead men decide how we live.”
For the first time in four years, lights filled the mansion.
Maisie clapped.
Frank stood silently near the staircase.
Michael's empty place at the table remained.
But Vincent left a plate there anyway.
Clara asked why.
Vincent answered softly.
“Hope should have a seat too.”
At midnight, Vincent opened the envelope again.
There was a second photograph hidden beneath the first.
It showed a man walking into a hospital.
The photograph was grainy.
But the face was unmistakable.
Daniel Bennett.
May you like
Alive.
And standing beside him was Edward Kane.
