Chapter 5 - Camille’s Wedding Dress

Camille came home at eleven that night wearing a cream coat over a silk fitting dress.

Massimo was waiting in the dark drawing room.

No Dean.

No guards.

No staff.

Only one lamp beside the window and the quiet hum of the heating system.

Camille stopped when she saw him.

“You scared me.”

“Sit down.”

She looked at his face.

“What happened?”

“Sit.”

Her handbag slipped from her shoulder onto the sofa.

She sat.

Massimo remained in the wheelchair across from her.

He had imagined this conversation many ways during the drive back from Harbor Point.

Anger.

Accusation.

Threats.

But now that she was in front of him, he felt almost nothing.

That frightened him.

“Your father knew Daniel Bennett,” he said.

Camille’s face changed.

Not surprise.

Recognition.

Massimo saw it.

“Good,” he said quietly. “That saves time.”

She stared at the floor.

“Who told you?”

“Dean.”

Her eyes lifted.

“Dean is lying.”

“About which part?”

“All of it.”

“Daniel worked at Harbor Point.”

“Yes.”

“He found false invoices.”

“I don’t know.”

“Your father was the outside partner.”

“Yes.”

“Daniel died three days after threatening to report the theft.”

Camille stood.

“I’m not doing this.”

“You already are.”

“My father is dead.”

“So is Daniel.”

Her jaw trembled.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Use a dead man to punish me.”

Massimo’s voice went flat.

“I’m trying to find out whether the woman I planned to marry helped put me in a wheelchair.”

Camille’s face drained.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“No.”

“Dean arranged Brooklyn Avenue.”

She backed away.

“No.”

“He admitted it.”

“No, he didn’t.”

“He admitted enough.”

Camille pressed one hand against her mouth.

Massimo watched her.

“You knew about Daniel.”

Silence.

“Camille.”

“Yes.”

The word came out broken.

He looked away.

She began to cry without sound.

“I was twenty-three.”

“That isn’t an answer.”

“My father called me after it happened.”

“What did he say?”

“That there had been an accident.”

“An accident.”

“He said one of the workers was threatening him. He said the man had become unstable.”

“Daniel?”

“Yes.”

“Carla’s husband.”

Camille closed her eyes.

“I didn’t know Carla then.”

“Did your father say he killed him?”

“No.”

“Did he say somebody did?”

“He said he had fixed the problem.”

Massimo’s hands tightened.

“And you understood.”

“I didn’t want to.”

“That isn’t what I asked.”

“Yes.”

The room became painfully quiet.

Massimo looked at the engagement ring on her hand.

He had given it to her two months before the attack.

She wore it now like evidence.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Exactly.”

She flinched.

“I was afraid of him.”

“Your father?”

“You didn’t know him.”

“I knew Arthur Ashwood.”

“You knew the version he brought to dinner.”

Massimo stared.

Camille sat again.

“He controlled everything. My accounts. My apartment. My friends. When I tried to leave his company, he threatened to cut off my mother’s medical care.”

“Your mother died before we met.”

“Yes.”

“And after that?”

Camille laughed bitterly.

“I should have become brave because there was nobody left to protect?”

“You should have gone to the police.”

“And told them my father had connections to the Rinaldi family?”

Massimo’s expression hardened.

“Don’t use my name to excuse yourself.”

“I’m not.”

“You came into my life knowing your father had buried a worker.”

“Yes.”

“You said nothing.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Camille looked at him.

“At first? Because Dean told me to.”

Massimo went still.

“When?”

“Before our second date.”

“What?”

“He came to my apartment.”

Massimo felt the room narrow.

“What did he say?”

“That my father’s old files could destroy me if I embarrassed the family.”

“You think I ordered that?”

“No.”

“Then why did you stay?”

Her eyes filled.

“Because I liked you.”

Massimo laughed once without humor.

“Convenient.”

“I did.”

“You liked me enough to lie.”

“I thought Daniel’s death was finished. I thought my father had done something terrible and Dean had covered it up. I didn’t know Dean was still moving money.”

“And Brooklyn Avenue?”

“I knew nothing.”

“Connecticut?”

Camille’s face froze.

There it was.

Massimo leaned forward.

“You told him.”

She looked away.

“Camille.”

“Yes.”

His voice dropped.

“Why?”

“Dean called me after you left this morning.”

“Why did you know where Carla was?”

“I heard Elena talking to the driver.”

“And you gave Dean the address.”

“He said Carla had stolen records.”

“You believed him?”

“No.”

“Then why?”

Camille suddenly stood.

“Because he had my father’s files!”

Her voice cracked through the room.

“He said he would send everything to federal investigators with my name attached. He said there were signatures.”

“Were there?”

“I don’t know!”

“You could have come to me.”

“I tried.”

“When?”

“Three months ago.”

Massimo stared.

She wiped her face.

“The night after your second surgery. You were in pain. Dean was controlling every meeting. I said we needed to talk about my father.”

Massimo remembered.

Vaguely.

He had been medicated.

She had sat beside his bed and said, There are things about my family you don’t know.

He had told her, Not tonight.

Dean had entered ten minutes later.

Massimo closed his eyes.

“What happened after?”

“Dean came to my room.”

“What did he say?”

“That you didn’t need more problems.”

“And you listened.”

“I was weak.”

“You were scared.”

“Yes.”

“Same thing?”

“No.”

Her answer surprised him.

Camille removed the engagement ring.

She placed it on the table.

“I was scared. Then I kept choosing fear because it was easier.”

Massimo stared at the ring.

She continued.

“That part is mine.”

For the first time that night, he believed her completely.

Not because she was innocent.

Because she had stopped trying to sound innocent.

“Did Dean say why he wanted Carla?”

“No.”

“Did he mention Nina?”

“No.”

“Did you tell him Nina was with her?”

Camille went pale.

“Yes.”

Massimo’s face hardened.

“I didn’t think—”

“No. You didn’t.”

She nodded slowly.

“I know.”

He turned the wheelchair toward the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To make sure they’re alive.”

“Massimo.”

He stopped.

“I can help.”

“No.”

“I know things about Dean.”

“You know how to obey him.”

Her face tightened.

“Then use me for that.”

He looked back.

“What?”

“He thinks I’m still afraid of him.”

“You are.”

“Yes.”

Camille wiped her cheeks.

“But he doesn’t know I’m more afraid of what happens if I keep helping him.”

Massimo studied her.

“Call him.”

“Now?”

“Yes.”

“What do I say?”

“Tell him I found Daniel Bennett’s original notebook.”

“I don’t have one.”

“He doesn’t know that.”

“What if he asks where?”

“Tell him it was hidden in Carla’s cottage.”

Camille swallowed.

“And then?”

“Tell him you’re scared I’ll find it.”

“He’ll want it.”

“Exactly.”

She looked at him.

“You’re setting a trap.”

“No.”

“What is it?”

“I’m asking a liar to tell us what he wants.”

Camille picked up her phone.

Her hand shook.

Massimo watched her dial.

Dean answered on the second ring.

“Camille.”

She put the call on speaker.

“I need to see you.”

“Why?”

“I found something.”

Massimo could hear movement behind Dean’s voice.

“What?”

“A notebook.”

Silence.

Camille continued.

“It was in Carla’s cottage. Daniel Bennett’s name is inside.”

Dean did not answer.

Her breathing became uneven.

“Dean?”

“Where are you?”

“At the estate.”

“Is Massimo there?”

She looked at him.

“No.”

“Where is he?”

“I don’t know.”

Another pause.

“Don’t touch the notebook.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t understand what it is.”

Massimo’s eyes narrowed.

Camille whispered, “What is it?”

Dean’s voice became colder.

“Something your father should have destroyed.”

Massimo felt a jolt.

Not fake.

A real notebook had existed.

Camille followed the script instinctively.

“Where do I take it?”

“Nowhere.”

“Dean—”

“I’ll come for it.”

“When?”

“Twenty minutes.”

The call ended.

Camille stared at the phone.

“He’s coming here.”

“No.”

Massimo looked toward the window.

“He wants us to think he is.”

“How do you know?”

“Because Dean never walks into a room until he knows who is inside it.”

He called Tomas.

“Find out where Dean’s car is.”

Tomas called back three minutes later.

“Heading west on Northern Boulevard.”

“Not toward the estate.”

“No.”

“Toward Queens.”

Massimo’s blood chilled.

Camille whispered, “Carla.”

He was already dialing.

No answer.

Again.

No answer.

Massimo looked at Camille.

“What did you tell Dean about my mother’s house?”

“Nothing.”

“Ever?”

“No.”

“Elena knew.”

Camille shook her head.

“So did Tomas.”

Massimo called Elena.

She answered.

“Massimo.”

“Where are you?”

“Queens.”

His heart stopped.

“With Carla?”

“Yes.”

“Leave.”

“What happened?”

“Dean is heading toward you.”

Elena swore.

Massimo heard Carla in the background.

Then Nina.

“Uncle Massimo?”

He closed his eyes.

“Nina.”

“We found your mommy’s blue cup.”

He frowned.

“What?”

“At the house.”

Elena took the phone.

“There are old family things here. Focus. We’re leaving.”

Massimo heard a vehicle outside on her end.

Elena stopped speaking.

“Is that you?” Massimo asked.

“No.”

“Back door.”

“We’re moving.”

He turned to Camille.

“Call the police.”

She stared.

He snapped, “Now.”

She dialed.

Massimo called Tomas.

“I need a car.”

“You’re thirty minutes away.”

“Then make it twenty.”

“You can’t drive.”

“Not planning to.”

Camille spoke to the emergency dispatcher, giving the Queens address.

Massimo heard Elena whisper through the phone.

“Carla, take Nina downstairs.”

Then a knock sounded.

Not violent.

Three calm knocks.

Dean’s voice came faintly through Elena’s phone.

“Elena.”

Massimo’s stomach turned.

Dean knocked again.

“I know you’re in there.”

Elena whispered, “He knows.”

Massimo said, “Do not open the door.”

Dean’s voice came through again.

“I only want to talk.”

Elena looked at the phone.

Massimo almost laughed.

Even now, Dean wanted to sound reasonable.

Then Nina’s small voice came from somewhere below.

“Mommy, why are we hiding?”

Everything inside Massimo changed.

He gripped the arms of the wheelchair.

He pushed himself upward.

Camille stared.

“Massimo?”

His legs shook.

He stood.

Not four seconds.

Not twenty-seven.

He stood long enough to reach the desk and grab the keys to his old sedan.

Camille’s mouth fell open.

“You can stand.”

“Apparently.”

“You can’t drive.”

He took one unsteady step.

Pain shot through both thighs.

He nearly fell.

Camille caught his arm.

“Stop.”

“Let go.”

“You’re going to hurt yourself.”

“Nina is in that house because of us.”

“Then we go together.”

He looked at her.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“You leaked the address.”

“And I’m going to help fix it.”

Another knock sounded through Elena’s phone.

Then Dean said something that erased every remaining doubt.

“Carla, I know Daniel left a notebook.”

Massimo stared at the phone.

The trap had found a truth.

Daniel Bennett had left evidence.

And Dean believed Carla had it.

Camille tightened her hand around Massimo’s arm.

“Where would Daniel hide something?”

Massimo thought about Carla.

About a widow carrying her life from apartment to apartment.

About the one thing she had said she still possessed.

“A box,” he whispered.

Camille frowned.

“What?”

“His things.”

Massimo lowered himself back into the wheelchair.

“Dean isn’t after Carla.”

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He looked at the dark window.

“He’s after what her husband left behind.”