Chapter 10 - Behind the North WallThe sound of the hammer striking stone echoed like a heartbeat under the earth.
Detective Shaw’s officers worked in grim silence, chipping away at the fresh mortar behind the wine racks.
Clara stood with her arms wrapped around herself.
Alejandro stood beside her, pale and silent.
Neither looked at the other.
When the first brick came loose, cold air breathed out from behind the wall.
Not cellar air.
Hidden-room air.
Stale.
Metallic.
Old.
An officer shined a flashlight inside.
“Detective.”
Shaw stepped forward.
The light revealed a narrow chamber.
Inside were shelves.
Files.
Hard drives.
Cash.
Passports.
And three sealed metal boxes.
No body.
Clara’s knees almost gave way from relief.
Then she saw the jacket.
It hung on a hook beside the shelves.
Brown canvas. Torn at the shoulder.
Nathan’s jacket.
Clara moved before anyone could stop her.
She grabbed it from the hook, pressed it to her face, and made a sound that was not quite crying and not quite breathing.
Alejandro stared at the hidden room.
“I didn’t know this was here.”
Detective Shaw looked unconvinced. “In your house?”
“My grandfather built tunnels under this estate. Half the walls hide something.”
“That answer may satisfy your men. It does not satisfy me.”
An officer opened one of the boxes.
Inside were photographs.
Surveillance shots.
Some of politicians.
Some of judges.
Some of Alejandro.
And one of Clara.
Taken outside a pharmacy, holding Emma’s hand.
Clara looked at it and felt fear crawl up her spine.
“Why would they have this?”
Alejandro took the photo carefully.
His eyes moved to another image beneath it.
Nathan Carter standing at the docks.
Alive.
Blood on his shirt.
Hands raised.
Beside him stood Bruno Ricci.
Not Alejandro.
Bruno.
Clara seized the photo.
“That’s Nathan.”
Detective Shaw pulled more documents from the shelf.
“Looks like Ricci was running something through the docks under Moretti protection. Off-book shipments. Payments. Witness removals.”
Alejandro’s face became deadly.
“He used my name.”
Clara turned on him. “And your name was enough to ruin lives.”
He did not defend himself.
That made her angrier.
In the second metal box, they found medical records.
Emma’s.
Every allergy. Every emergency visit. Every pharmacy pickup.
Clara covered her mouth.
Alejandro looked at the records, then at the empty EpiPen listed on the most recent prescription.
“He knew,” Alejandro said.
“Who?” Clara asked.
“Bruno.”
Detective Shaw lifted a printed schedule from the file.
On it was Clara’s work rotation.
Emma’s basement room.
Alejandro’s afternoon wine time.
And a handwritten note.
Child carries epinephrine. If boss survives first dose, delay medical response.
Clara’s blood turned to ice.
May you like
Emma had not been an accident.
Her medicine had been part of the plan.
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