Chapter 8 - Peter Quinn Comes Home

Santino put the call on speaker.

Walter stared at the telephone.

“Peter.”

His brother laughed softly.

“You sound old.”

Walter’s face hardened.

“You sound alive.”

“Technicality.”

Santino spoke.

“Where are you?”

Peter ignored him.

“Helen remembers?”

She looked at the phone.

“Yes.”

Peter went quiet.

Then:

“That is unfortunate.”

Caitlyn stood.

“You tried to kill my mother.”

“No.”

“You pushed her down stairs.”

“Yes.”

Silence.

Peter continued.

“I wanted the chart.”

“You left her there.”

“I panicked.”

Caitlyn’s voice broke.

“You blocked her Medicare.”

Peter did not answer.

That silence was enough.

Santino said:

“You wanted Helen back in your clinic.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“To know what she remembered.”

“And Caitlyn?”

“Collateral.”

Anthony stepped toward the phone.

“You kept them poor on purpose.”

Peter laughed.

“You kept them hidden on purpose.”

Anthony stopped.

Peter continued.

“Do not pretend you are better.”

Anthony looked down.

Santino said:

“Where are you?”

Peter answered:

“Closer than you think.”

Walter moved toward the window.

A car entered the estate gates.

Black sedan.

No security challenge.

Santino’s face changed.

“How did he get through?”

Walter looked ashamed.

“Old access code.”

Santino stared.

“You never changed it.”

“I did not know Peter had it.”

The sedan stopped.

Peter Quinn stepped out.

Sixty-eight.

White hair.

Dark coat.

He looked like Walter.

Enough to be unsettling.

Security surrounded him.

Peter raised both hands.

“No weapon.”

Santino met him in the foyer.

Peter looked at the brooch.

“There it is.”

Santino stared.

“You came for this.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because Lorenzo made one mistake.”

“What?”

“He trusted jewelry more than people.”

Santino’s jaw tightened.

Peter looked at Anthony.

“You look healthier than the corpse we buried.”

Caitlyn flinched.

Anthony stared.

“You arranged it.”

“Yes.”

“Why let me live?”

Peter shrugged.

“You were useful.”

“For what?”

“The trust.”

Santino frowned.

“Marchetti Health Trust.”

Peter nodded.

“Anthony had to remain legally connected enough for documents to move.”

Caitlyn stared.

“My father’s fake death.”

Peter smiled.

“Complicated.”

Santino stepped closer.

“Do not smile at her.”

Peter stopped.

Walter looked at his brother.

“Why use my initials?”

Peter’s face changed slightly.

“Because Lorenzo needed someone respectable to blame.”

Walter stared.

“You chose me.”

“You were available.”

The old butler’s eyes filled.

Peter looked away first.

Santino held up the microfilm.

“Lorenzo is dead.”

“Yes.”

“So why are you still doing this?”

Peter looked at him.

“Because Lorenzo was not the end.”

Silence.

Anthony frowned.

“Who?”

Peter smiled sadly.

“Your mother knew.”

Santino’s face hardened.

“My mother wrote that Lorenzo was not the only one.”

“Yes.”

“Who was the other?”

Peter looked toward Walter.

Then Helen.

Then Anthony.

Finally Santino.

“Your father.”

Silence.

Santino stopped breathing.

“My father died when I was 12.”

Peter nodded.

“Officially.”

Walter closed his eyes.

Santino saw.

“You knew.”

Walter whispered:

“I suspected.”

Santino turned.

“My father is alive?”

Walter shook his head.

“I do not know.”

Peter laughed.

“I do.”

Santino looked back.

Peter continued.

“Your father did not die when they told you.”

“When did he die?”

Peter looked at the brooch.

“Eight years later.”

Santino’s jaw tightened.

“Where?”

“Saint Matthew’s.”

Silence.

Santino stared.

Peter continued.

“He was the first patient.”

Helen whispered:

“The first altered chart.”

Peter nodded.

Santino’s face went blank.

“My father.”

“Yes.”

“Lorenzo experimented on my father.”

Peter shook his head.

“No.”

Then:

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“Your mother did.”

Everything stopped.