Chapter 8 - THE UNCLE’S HOUSE
We escaped through Dr. Grant’s basement with the recorder, the old man, and a truth that had changed the shape of Dominic’s face.
Your father said the danger is the man who taught you to obey.
Salvatore Rossi had raised Dominic after his parents died. He had given him a home, a name, and a place inside the family business. He had also taught him that loyalty mattered more than law, that silence kept people alive, and that betrayal deserved punishment.
If Arthur Pendleton believed Salvatore was involved, Dominic could not dismiss it as another lie.
We drove to a second safe location while Elena arranged protection for Dr. Grant. The recorder sat in an evidence bag on the seat between Dominic and me.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
Finally, I said, “You knew he might be involved.”
Dominic stared through the windshield.
“I knew my uncle had secrets. Every powerful family does.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“No. It isn’t.”
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“Salvatore saved me when I was seventeen. My father was killed, my mother disappeared, and men were coming after our family. He put me in a car and drove me out of New York. He gave me food, a room, and a future.”
“A future built on crime.”
“A future built on survival.”
“Those are not always the same.”
His eyes moved to me.
“I know that now.”
At the safe house, Dr. Grant’s recording was copied three times. Elena cleaned the audio and discovered a second voice beneath my father’s statement. It was faint, but the words were clear enough.
“The account is at Saint Alden’s. The widow has the access phrase.”
“Saint Alden’s,” I said. “My father’s church.”
“The account?” Dominic asked.
“He donated there. He kept a private charity fund for people involved in witness protection.”
Elena leaned closer to the screen.
“If your mother survived the lake, Arthur may have used that fund to hide her.”
“Then we go to the church.”
“Not yet,” Dominic said.
I turned toward him.
“Why?”
“Because Salvatore knows where we’re going.”
“How?”
He held up the black crown bullet.
“The men who attacked Dr. Grant knew I had the recorder. That means the leak is not just inside my security team. It reaches someone with access to our investigation.”
Marco’s name returned to my mind.
“Your cousin.”
“Maybe.”
“You don’t trust him.”
“I trust him to betray me if the price is right.”
A car pulled into the driveway.
Every guard in the house raised a weapon.
The vehicle stopped at the door. Salvatore Rossi stepped out alone.
He was in his late sixties, silver-haired, elegant, and calm. He wore a dark overcoat and carried no visible weapon. His face had the same controlled severity as Dominic’s, but age had sharpened it into something colder.
Dominic met him in the entry hall.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“And yet you opened the door.”
Salvatore’s eyes shifted to me.
“Claire Pendleton.”
“You know my name.”
“Your father and I had disagreements.”
“He believed you helped kill him.”
Salvatore looked at Dominic.
“Arthur believed many things.”
I stepped forward.
“Did you?”
The older man examined me for a long moment.
“Did I help kill your father? No.”
“Did you know David intended to hurt him?”
“Yes.”
Dominic’s hand tightened into a fist.
“You knew?”
Salvatore’s gaze did not move.
“I knew David was dangerous. I warned Arthur to stop investigating.”
“You threatened him,” Dominic said.
“I gave him the truth. There is a difference.”
“Where were you the night he died?”
Salvatore looked at the recorder on the table.
“Helping your mother escape.”
The room went silent.
My breath stopped.
“You knew she was alive.”
“I arranged the boat.”
“You told everyone she died.”
“It was the only way to keep Bell from finding her.”
“Then why did my father die?”
Salvatore’s expression finally changed.
“Because David discovered the escape. He followed Arthur’s car. He forced him off the road.”
I swayed.
Dominic caught my elbow but released me the moment I steadied.
“You have proof?” he asked.
Salvatore nodded.
“Arthur sent me a copy of the evidence. I hid it. David spent three years searching for it through you.”
“Where is my mother?” I asked.
Salvatore looked toward the locked door.
“In the only place the Bells cannot reach.”
“Where?”
The lights went out.
A gunshot cracked through the hall.
Salvatore dropped to the floor.
Dominic pulled me behind a pillar as the windows erupted with bullets.
In the chaos, a voice shouted from the darkness.
“Take the girl alive!”
A gloved hand seized my hair.
I screamed and drove my elbow backward.
The attacker cursed, but another arm locked around my waist.
Then Dominic’s voice thundered through the dark.
“Touch her again and I will bury everyone in this house.”
The hand vanished.
When the emergency lights returned, Salvatore was gone.
So was the recorder.
And on the floor where he had been shot lay a single white envelope addressed to me.
Inside was an old train ticket.
May you like
The destination was printed in black ink.
Milwaukee — Platform 9 — Midnight.
