Chapter 9 - THE WOLF IN THE GARAGE
Vittorio’s men came for Helena’s car before dawn.
That was how Carmine knew the vehicle held more than they had found.
The Bellucci garage lights went dark at 4:17.
Backup lights should have activated.
They did not.
A guard near the west entrance saw movement.
Three men entered wearing black.
No shouting.
No wasted motion.
Professionals.
They did not move toward the house.
They went directly to Helena’s sedan.
Carmine had expected something.
Not that soon.
Anthony had moved the real vehicle hours earlier.
The garage held an identical model in its place.
The men opened the doors.
Searched beneath the dash.
Then one swore.
The lights came on.
Bellucci guards surrounded them.
Two surrendered.
One ran.
Anthony caught him near the service corridor.
No one died.
That was deliberate.
Carmine wanted voices.
The oldest intruder gave them one.
His name was Michael Dane.
Fifty-eight.
Former Bellucci driver.
Carmine remembered him vaguely.
His father had used Michael on long trips.
“Vittorio?”
Michael smiled through a split lip.
“You still ask names like names control anything.”
Carmine sat across from him in the garage office.
“Why the car?”
Michael said nothing.
Carmine placed Rosalie’s necklace on the table.
Michael looked at it.
Recognition.
“Where is she?”
No answer.
Carmine leaned forward.
“I am trying very hard not to be the man you expect.”
Michael smiled.
“Vittorio said that wouldn’t last.”
“He talks about me often?”
“For years.”
“Why?”
“You’re Giancarlo’s son.”
“I’m also Carmine.”
“That’s what Rosalie used to say.”
Carmine’s pulse changed.
“You knew her.”
“I drove her twice.”
“When?”
“After the crash.”
Carmine went still.
“Where?”
“Cold Spring first. Then the hunting house.”
“So she was there.”
“Yes.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Five days.”
Helena had said she disappeared after two.
Another lie.
“What happened on day five?”
Michael looked at Carmine.
“She left.”
“With whom?”
“No one.”
Carmine laughed.
“Rosalie escaped a guarded house alone?”
“She wasn’t a prisoner anymore.”
“What changed?”
“She spoke to Vittorio.”
“About?”
“The Second House.”
“What did he tell her?”
Michael’s expression darkened.
“That Giancarlo’s network was still alive.”
“Under who?”
“He didn’t know.”
“Then why stay away from me?”
Michael said nothing.
Carmine placed one hand flat on the table.
“Why.”
Michael finally answered.
“Because Rosalie believed someone beside you was part of it.”
“Anthony?”
“I don’t know.”
“Dominic?”
“I don’t know.”
“Salvatore?”
Michael looked away.
Carmine saw it.
“Salvatore.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t need to.”
Michael continued.
“Rosalie wanted proof before she came home.”
“She abandoned Leo.”
“No.”
The word came sharp.
“She cried every night over that boy.”
Carmine’s eyes burned.
Michael leaned forward.
“She believed coming home would bring whoever was hunting her straight to him.”
“And two years?”
“I stopped seeing her after three months.”
“Where did she go?”
“Vittorio moved her.”
“Why?”
“Someone found the hunting house.”
“Second House?”
“Probably.”
Carmine stood.
Michael looked toward the fake sedan.
“The car was supposed to carry something.”
“What?”
Michael smiled.
“You haven’t found it.”
“We stripped it.”
“Not the car.”
Carmine stopped.
Michael nodded toward the key fob sitting in a clear tray.
“The fob.”
Anthony picked it up.
Cracked the casing.
Inside was a narrow metal strip.
Not electronics.
A tiny mechanical key.
Carmine looked at Michael.
“What does it open?”
“The black room.”
Anthony and Carmine exchanged a glance.
Dominic’s recording.
Michael leaned back.
“Vittorio wanted the key back before you understood.”
“Why send men?”
“Because Helena failed.”
Carmine’s expression sharpened.
“What happens to people who fail Vittorio?”
Michael smiled without warmth.
“Ask his daughter.”
Carmine turned.
Helena had been moved to a guarded guest house on the estate.
He called.
No answer.
The guard stationed outside answered on the second line.
“Boss.”
“Helena.”
A pause.
“Gone.”
Carmine’s face changed.
“How?”
“We found the bathroom window open. Guard on the rear path is unconscious.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Camera?”
“Cut.”
Carmine looked at Michael.
Michael’s smile disappeared.
“That wasn’t us.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Carmine believed him.
That was worse.
If Vittorio had not taken Helena—
someone else had.
On the garage floor, Leo’s dropped cleaning cloth still lay where Carmine had left it.
Near the bucket.
Near Helena’s empty parking space.
Carmine stared at it.
The car had been a trap.
May you like
Helena had been a door.
And someone had just closed it before Carmine could walk through.
