Chapter 5 - The Voice in the Recorder

The lights went out twelve seconds before Frank DeLuca's men reached the warehouse.

I know because James counted.

"Twelve."

He stood beside the breaker panel.

"Eleven."

Tony positioned his men along the corridor.

"Ten."

Carlo looked as though he might faint.

"Nine."

I held Daniel's plastic bag under my coat.

"Eight."

James looked at me.

"You stay behind me."

"Stop saying that."

"Seven."

"I mean it."

"Six."

"Grace."

"Five."

"I've spent three years behind everyone else's decisions about Daniel."

"Four."

"I'm done."

"Three."

James's expression tightened.

"Two."

A door slammed upstairs.

"One."

The lights died.

Darkness swallowed everything.

Someone shouted above us.

Then footsteps.

James pulled me behind a concrete pillar.

The men who came down the stairs had flashlights.

They expected panic.

They did not expect Tony to know every turn in the corridor.

They did not expect Carlo to step out first and shout, "They're gone!"

They did not expect the old emergency siren to begin screaming when I crossed two wires Daniel had once shown me how to test in our apartment.

And they definitely did not expect the sprinkler system to explode over their heads.

Water crashed down.

Flashlights swung wildly.

James moved.

I heard bodies hit walls.

Orders.

Cursing.

Tony shouting, "Down!"

Someone fired once into the ceiling.

I dropped.

James was beside me immediately.

"Stay down."

"You stay down."

"Grace."

"I'm serious."

He made a sound halfway between anger and disbelief.

Then the fight ended almost as quickly as it began.

Tony switched on a portable work light.

Three men were on the floor.

One had dropped his weapon.

Another had surrendered.

The third was Carlo's cousin.

Carlo stared at him.

"Ricky?"

Ricky looked away.

Carlo's face broke.

"Frank said this was business."

Ricky spat water.

"It is."

"You pointed a gun at me."

"You weren't supposed to be here."

Carlo laughed bitterly.

"That makes it better?"

James walked over.

"Where is Frank?"

Ricky said nothing.

James crouched.

I watched him carefully.

The old stories said men begged when James Moretti crouched beside them.

He did not hit Ricky.

He did not threaten him.

He only said, "Frank sent you into an abandoned warehouse on Christmas Day to recover evidence connected to my brother's death."

Ricky's face changed.

James continued.

"Ask yourself why he didn't come."

Ricky looked at the floor.

Tony said, "Boss, police scanner just lit up. Somebody reported gunfire."

James stood.

"We leave."

I looked at the men.

"What happens to them?"

Tony said, "Not your concern."

I looked at James.

"It is now."

He exhaled.

"We call their families."

Tony blinked.

"Boss?"

"And an attorney."

Tony stared.

James said, "Then we leave them for the police."

Ricky looked up in shock.

James met his eyes.

"You want to keep working for Frank after today, that's your decision."

He nodded toward the corridor.

"But I'm finished burying men because older men lied to them."

I looked at him.

He didn't look back.

We left before the police arrived.

At Mrs. Moretti's house, Chloe ran into my arms so hard I almost fell.

"You came back."

"I did."

She looked at James.

"You too."

"Barely. Your mother electrocuted a building."

"I did not."

James took off his wet coat.

"She tried."

"That is not what happened."

Chloe's eyes widened.

"Mommy!"

"I turned off the lights."

James said, "With violence."

"Against a breaker."

Mrs. Moretti kissed her son on both cheeks.

Then she slapped his shoulder.

"What is wrong with you?"

James blinked.

"What did I do?"

"You went to the pier on Christmas."

"You knew that."

"I did not approve it."

"You helped Grace convince me."

"I am allowed contradictions. I am your mother."

Tony muttered, "That explains so much."

Mrs. Moretti pointed toward the kitchen.

"You. Eat."

Tony obeyed immediately.

James looked at me.

"See?"

I almost laughed.

Then I remembered the recorder.

The smile disappeared.

We gathered around the dining table.

Daniel's old phone would not power on.

The digital recorder did.

Barely.

Its screen flickered.

There were six audio files.

James stared at them.

"Grace."

I held the recorder.

"What?"

"You choose."

I knew what he meant.

Press play.

Don't press play.

Hear my dead husband's voice.

Or keep him frozen forever in memory.

I pressed play.

Static.

Then Daniel.

"If this thing works, Anthony owes me forty bucks."

My hand flew to my mouth.

Chloe whispered, "Daddy."

I reached for her.

She climbed into my lap.

Daniel's voice continued.

"December nineteenth. Pier Fourteen. Truck manifest says electrical fixtures. Crates don't match weight."

Anthony's voice came next.

"You sure?"

"I'm an electrician, not an idiot."

"I never said you were."

"You implied it with your face."

James closed his eyes.

"He sounded like Anthony," he whispered.

On the recorder, Anthony laughed.

It was a warm, easy laugh.

Nothing like the man I had imagined from James's stories.

Then Daniel spoke.

"I checked the seal numbers. Same truck was listed three days ago under a different company."

Anthony said, "Frank handles routing."

Silence around the table.

Daniel said, "You trust him?"

Anthony answered immediately.

"With my life."

James looked down.

The recording ended.

I pressed the next file.

December twentieth.

Daniel sounded frightened.

"There are people in one of the containers."

Mrs. Moretti made a small sound.

Anthony cursed.

"How many?"

"I don't know."

"Did they see you?"

"No."

"You tell nobody."

"James?"

"No."

"He's your brother."

"That's why."

I looked at James.

His face had become stone.

The recording continued.

Daniel said, "You think he's involved?"

Anthony answered, "No."

James's eyes closed.

"No," Anthony repeated. "James has rules. Stupid rules for a stupid life, but rules. No women. No kids. No people. He'd kill the route before he'd profit from that."

Daniel said, "Then tell him."

"I need proof first."

"Why?"

"Because the man I suspect is the man who stands behind him in every room."

Frank.

Nobody said the name.

We didn't need to.

The third recording was shorter.

December twenty-first.

Daniel whispered.

"They moved the container."

Anthony said, "Where?"

"South storage."

"I told you to stay out of this."

"And I told you there were people inside."

"You have a kid."

"So do those people."

I buried my face in Chloe's hair.

Daniel.

Of course.

Of course he had said that.

He once stopped traffic for a stray dog in a thunderstorm.

He gave away his winter gloves to a man outside the train station, then complained his hands were cold for three weeks.

He would have seen frightened people and stayed.

Even if staying killed him.

James said, "Grace, we can stop."

"No."

I pressed the fourth file.

Static.

Footsteps.

Anthony's voice.

"I got the books."

Daniel said, "From where?"

"Frank's office."

James leaned forward.

Then the recording warped.

A scraping sound.

Daniel cursed.

The audio returned.

"...payments to Cole."

I grabbed the table.

James looked at Tony.

"Raymond Cole."

The detective who wrote Daniel's accident report.

Tony nodded slowly.

Anthony said, "And East Harbor."

Daniel asked, "What's East Harbor?"

"A company that doesn't exist yet."

The recording ended.

I whispered, "The company that bought the pier."

James stared at the recorder.

"Frank created it before Anthony died."

Tony said, "Or someone did."

James looked at him.

"You still need more?"

"I need evidence we can hand to people who don't work for you."

That surprised me.

Tony noticed.

"What?"

I said, "I expected you to say we should kill him."

Tony rubbed his jaw.

"Three years ago, I might have."

James looked at him.

"Comforting."

Tony shrugged.

"People grow."

I pressed the fifth file.

There was a long stretch of nothing.

Then Anthony spoke.

"Daniel, if you're hearing this alone, take the key."

Daniel said, "What key?"

"The bank key."

"What's in the box?"

"Copies."

"Of what?"

"Everything."

James leaned closer.

Anthony continued.

"Account numbers. Route logs. Photos. Payments. If anything happens to me, you take it to James."

Daniel said, "Why not police?"

Anthony laughed without humor.

"Because Cole is police."

"Federal?"

"I don't know who Frank bought."

"Then James?"

"James will know what to do."

The recording paused.

Daniel said, "You trust him?"

Anthony answered, "He's my brother."

The words destroyed James.

Not visibly.

He didn't cry.

He didn't move.

But his face emptied.

Mrs. Moretti reached across the table and took his hand.

He let her.

The sixth file had no date.

Only static.

Then Daniel.

Breathing hard.

"Grace."

My body went cold.

Chloe gripped me.

Daniel's voice shook.

"If this gets to you, I am sorry."

I started crying before he said another word.

"I should have walked away."

A noise sounded behind him.

He lowered his voice.

"But there are things you don't walk away from."

Chloe whispered, "Daddy."

Daniel continued.

"Kiss Chloe for me."

I covered my mouth.

"Tell her I kept the star."

I looked at the blue sticker we had found.

My chest broke open.

"Tell her she was the best thing I ever did."

Chloe buried her face against me.

Daniel breathed in.

Then he said, "Don't believe the first story."

The recorder clicked.

A second voice came through.

Distant.

"Daniel?"

Anthony.

Then a door slammed.

Another voice shouted.

I couldn't make out the words.

Daniel whispered, "Frank."

The recorder fell.

Footsteps.

A struggle.

Anthony yelled, "Run!"

A gunshot.

Mrs. Moretti gasped.

James stood so quickly his chair fell backward.

The audio became chaos.

Daniel breathing.

Metal doors.

A car engine.

Then another voice.

Calm.

Older.

"Give me the recorder."

Daniel said, "Go to hell."

The man laughed.

I knew the laugh.

I had heard it less than twelve hours earlier in Mrs. Moretti's living room.

Frank DeLuca.

James looked at me.

The recording continued.

Frank said, "Your wife and daughter don't deserve to lose you over Moretti business."

Daniel answered, "Then let me go home."

"You saw too much."

"James doesn't know."

"No."

A pause.

"He never knows until I need him to."

James's face changed.

On the recorder, Daniel said, "Anthony trusted you."

Frank answered, "That was his mistake."

The audio cut.

No gunshot.

No crash.

Just silence.

I stared at the recorder.

For three years, I had imagined Daniel alone in a van on a dark road.

For three years, I had told Chloe her father died in an accident.

For three years, a man had walked around Boston knowing the truth.

I looked at James.

"Where is Frank?"

Tony answered.

"We don't know."

I stood.

"Find him."

James looked at me.

"Grace."

"Find him."

"What do you want me to do when I do?"

I opened my mouth.

No answer came.

I wanted Frank afraid.

I wanted him hurt.

I wanted him to understand three years of empty chairs and overdue rent and a little girl asking why her daddy didn't call from heaven.

I wanted impossible things.

James waited.

I whispered, "I don't know."

He nodded.

"Good."

I stared at him.

"Good?"

"Because you shouldn't decide that today."

Anger rose.

"You don't get to tell me how to feel."

"No."

"You don't get to protect him."

"I'm not."

"Then what are you doing?"

"Protecting you from making a decision that belongs to the worst day of your life."

I laughed through tears.

"And you're an expert?"

His eyes met mine.

"Yes."

The room went silent.

I remembered Frank's words.

Ask James what happened to the last family he tried to protect.

I looked at Mrs. Moretti.

She looked away.

Then I looked back at James.

"What did you do after your wife and daughter died?"

His jaw tightened.

"I killed the men responsible."

Chloe went very still.

I wished he had lied.

He didn't.

"Did it help?" I asked.

"No."

"Did it make you feel better?"

"For about ten minutes."

"And after that?"

"I had more ghosts."

I sat down.

James picked up the bank key from Daniel's bag.

"This is where we go next."

Tony said, "If the box still exists."

"It exists."

"How do you know?"

James turned the small key under the light.

Stamped along one side were the words COMMONWEALTH TRUST.

He said, "Because Anthony chose a bank my family didn't own, influence, or use."

I wiped my face.

"When do we go?"

"Tomorrow."

"Today."

"Grace."

"Frank knows we found M7."

"He does."

"He knows what's in the box."

"Probably."

"Then tomorrow is too late."

James looked at Tony.

Tony shook his head.

"Banks are closed."

Mrs. Moretti said, "Not private vault appointments."

Everyone looked at her.

She sipped her coffee.

"What?"

James frowned.

"How do you know that?"

"Your father hid money everywhere."

"Ma."

"I married a criminal. I was not blind."

Tony smiled.

Mrs. Moretti pointed at him.

"Don't enjoy this."

I looked at James.

"Call."

He sighed.

"Fine."

He took out his phone.

Chloe tugged my sleeve.

"Mommy?"

I looked down.

"What, baby?"

"Are we still having Christmas?"

My heart cracked.

I brushed her hair from her face.

"Yes."

"Even with the scary things?"

"Especially with the scary things."

She looked at James.

"You said people eat when they're sad."

He nodded.

"I did."

"Then we need dinner."

Mrs. Moretti stood.

"Finally, someone sensible."

James looked at the recorder.

At his dead brother's bank key.

At me.

Then at Chloe.

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He said, "Dinner first."

It was the first decision we made that day that had nothing to do with fear.