Chapter 2 - The Flight Antonio Bought

Matteo did not sleep.

At six the next morning, the mansion was quiet.

The ballroom still smelled like wine and flowers.

The anniversary cake had not been cut.

The broken watch sat on Matteo’s desk.

11:17.

Frozen.

Serena stood near the window.

Still wearing the ruby gown.

She had not gone home.

Matteo looked at the plane ticket.

“Phoenix.”

“Yes.”

“You knew where he was.”

“Yes.”

“For three months.”

“Yes.”

He nodded slowly.

Then looked at Jonathan.

Serena’s father sat across the room.

Harold stood beside him.

My name is Eva Turner.

I was still there because Matteo had told me to stay.

He said:

“You heard the beginning.”

Then looked at the watch.

“You may as well hear the rest.”

Matteo turned to Jonathan.

“What else did my father want to tell me?”

Jonathan rubbed both hands over his face.

“That he made mistakes.”

“That is not useful.”

“No.”

Jonathan looked at Serena.

Then back at Matteo.

“He wanted to tell you why he never came home.”

Matteo’s expression hardened.

“You said my uncle was the reason.”

“He was part of it.”

“Part?”

Jonathan nodded.

Matteo stood.

“What is the other part?”

Jonathan did not answer immediately.

Harold did.

“Antonio signed something.”

Matteo looked at him.

“What?”

“A statement.”

Jonathan closed his eyes.

Matteo stared.

“What statement?”

Jonathan said:

“A confession.”

Silence.

“To what?”

“Money laundering.”

“Whose?”

“His own.”

Matteo laughed once.

Cold.

“My father was trying to go to the authorities.”

“Yes.”

“And confessed?”

“He needed leverage.”

Harold spoke quietly.

“Your father was not innocent.”

Matteo looked at him.

Harold continued.

“He wanted out.”

“That does not erase what came before.”

“No.”

Matteo looked at Jonathan.

“What exactly did he confess to?”

Jonathan leaned forward.

“Three shell companies.”

“Anything violent?”

“No.”

“Bribery?”

“Yes.”

“Who did he name?”

Jonathan hesitated.

Matteo saw it.

“My uncle.”

“Yes.”

“Who else?”

Jonathan looked down.

“Me.”

Serena closed her eyes.

Matteo stared.

“You were undercover.”

“I was cooperating.”

“That is not the same thing.”

Jonathan nodded.

“No.”

“What were you before you cooperated?”

Jonathan said nothing.

Serena whispered:

“Dad.”

Jonathan looked at Matteo.

“I helped move money.”

The room changed.

Matteo laughed quietly.

“So my father wanted immunity from a criminal who became an informant.”

Jonathan accepted it.

“Yes.”

Matteo picked up the ticket.

“And he trusted you.”

“He trusted me enough.”

“That does not sound reassuring.”

“It should not.”

Matteo looked at Serena.

“Did you know this part?”

She shook her head.

“No.”

Jonathan looked at her.

“She knew I worked with Antonio.”

“That is all.”

Matteo stared at him.

Then:

“Why tomorrow?”

Jonathan frowned.

“What?”

“The ticket.”

He held it up.

“Why did my father pick tomorrow?”

Harold answered.

“Because today is seventeen years since the river house.”

Matteo looked at the watch.

Jonathan nodded.

“Antonio said if he survived this long, he was done hiding.”

Matteo’s jaw tightened.

“Then why not come here?”

Jonathan looked toward the hallway.

“Because your uncle still has people inside this house.”

Matteo stopped.

I did too.

Serena went pale.

Harold looked at the door.

Matteo’s voice dropped.

“Who?”

Jonathan shook his head.

“We do not know.”

“Then how do you know there is someone?”

“Because Antonio tried to send you a letter two months ago.”

Matteo stared.

“It never reached you.”

Serena whispered:

“I never saw it.”

Jonathan nodded.

“Neither did I.”

Matteo turned toward me.

“Eva.”

“Yes?”

“Who handles my private mail?”

I swallowed.

“Mr. Russo’s office.”

Matteo frowned.

“Peter Russo.”

Harold looked at Jonathan.

Jonathan looked back.

Something passed between them.

Matteo saw it.

“What?”

Jonathan said:

“Peter was your uncle’s assistant before he worked for you.”

Matteo’s face became still.

Peter Russo had been with him for twelve years.

Managed schedules.

Mail.

Travel.

Security.

Matteo reached for his phone.

Jonathan stopped him.

“Do not call.”

“Why?”

“If Peter is loyal to your uncle, calling tells him we know.”

Matteo looked at the ticket.

Then the watch.

Then Serena.

“You delayed my father for three months.”

Her eyes filled.

“Yes.”

“Why now?”

She looked at Harold.

“Because Harold went to see him.”

Matteo turned.

Harold nodded.

“I told Antonio I was done helping people hide.”

“When?”

“Last week.”

“The watch.”

“Yes.”

Harold looked at the cracked silver face.

“He gave it to me.”

“Why?”

“He wanted proof you would recognize.”

Matteo swallowed.

Harold continued.

“He said your uncle would call everything else a lie.”

Jonathan stood.

“There is one more thing.”

Matteo looked at him.

Jonathan removed a photograph from his jacket.

Antonio.

Older.

Gray at the temples.

Standing outside a small desert house.

Beside him was another man.

Matteo stared.

His expression changed.

“That is Peter.”

Serena went pale.

Jonathan nodded.

“Taken five weeks ago.”

Matteo’s voice became quiet.

“My assistant met my father.”

“Yes.”

“In Arizona.”

“Yes.”

“And came back to my house.”

“Yes.”

Matteo looked at the watch again.

11:17.

Then at the plane ticket.

“We are not waiting until tomorrow.”

Jonathan frowned.

“What?”

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Matteo picked up his coat.

“We leave now.”