Chapter 4 - The Key Camilla Took

We left the summer house through the woods.

Dominic had another car hidden near an old boat ramp.

Vincent drove.

His father sat beside him.

Mr. Bennett and I were in the back.

Nobody mentioned the fourteen lost years.

Not yet.

There were more immediate problems.

Like Camilla having the only key to Dominic’s study.

Vincent called the estate.

No answer from the main line.

He called the kitchen.

One of the cooks answered.

Vincent put the phone on speaker.

“Where is Miss Russo?”

A pause.

“She left, sir.”

“When?”

“About twenty minutes after you.”

“With Raymond?”

“No. Mr. Raymond left first.”

Vincent’s eyes moved to the mirror.

“Did she take anything?”

Another pause.

“Her coat.”

Then the cook added:

“And the engagement ring.”

Vincent’s hand tightened on the steering wheel.

“What?”

“She took it from the table, sir.”

Mr. Bennett looked out the window.

Dominic said nothing.

Vincent ended the call.

I remembered the ring beside the wooden box.

Camilla had taken the key.

And the ring.

One item could open a room.

The other could make it look as though she still planned to marry Vincent.

Dominic looked at his son.

“Do not decide what that means yet.”

Vincent gave him a cold glance.

“You disappeared for fourteen years. You do not get to tell me how quickly to judge people.”

Dominic accepted that.

We reached Boston before two.

The estate was quiet.

Too quiet for a house that had held forty-eight guests three hours earlier.

Vincent entered through the front.

Dominic used the service entrance.

He did not want the remaining staff to see him yet.

Mr. Bennett took us to the west corridor.

Dominic’s study was at the end.

Heavy oak door.

Brass lock.

Vincent touched the handle.

Unlocked.

His face changed.

Mr. Bennett whispered:

“She is here.”

The study smelled like dust and cedar.

Nothing had been moved.

At first.

Then I saw the books on the floor.

One shelf had been emptied.

Vincent walked behind the desk.

A framed photograph of him at nineteen had been turned face down.

Dominic picked it up.

His hand shook.

Vincent saw.

Neither spoke.

Then a voice came from behind the library shelves.

“Don’t.”

Camilla.

Vincent turned.

A narrow panel stood open.

Camilla stepped out.

Red dress gone.

Black coat.

Bare feet.

The brass key in one hand.

The engagement ring in the other.

Vincent stared at her.

“Give me the key.”

She did.

Immediately.

That surprised him.

Then she held out the ring.

He did not take it.

“Why did you steal both?”

“I stole the key.”

“And the ring?”

Her mouth tightened.

“I took that because Raymond has cameras in the ballroom.”

Dominic stepped into the light.

Camilla froze.

For the first time that night, she looked genuinely shocked.

“You’re alive.”

Dominic watched her.

“You sound disappointed.”

“No.”

She looked toward Vincent.

“Raymond thinks you went north. If he checks the ballroom footage and sees the ring gone, he may think I left with you.”

Vincent stared.

“You wanted him to think we were still together.”

“I wanted him to think I was still useful.”

Mr. Bennett looked at the open panel.

“What were you searching for?”

Camilla pointed inside.

“The ledger.”

Dominic’s face remained still.

“Why?”

“So I could destroy it.”

Vincent laughed once.

Camilla looked at him.

“Not for Raymond.”

“Then for who?”

“My brother.”

Silence.

She swallowed.

“Luca signed things he should never have signed. Raymond made sure every payment went through his name.”

Dominic stepped closer.

“Your brother moved the money.”

“He moved numbers. He never met the men behind them.”

“That distinction will matter to a prosecutor.”

Camilla flinched.

Vincent’s voice was quiet.

“You knew enough to frame Charles as a thief.”

She looked at Mr. Bennett.

Her eyes filled.

“I did.”

The old butler did not soften.

“You put jewelry in my apartment.”

“Yes.”

“You took financial papers from the estate.”

“Yes.”

“You told Vincent I ran.”

“Yes.”

Vincent looked at her.

“Why?”

“Because Raymond showed me photographs of Luca’s daughter leaving school.”

Nobody spoke.

Camilla continued.

“He said Charles had found the transfer records. He said if I did not make Charles disappear, my niece would.”

Mr. Bennett’s jaw tightened.

Vincent looked at him.

“She had you taken?”

Camilla answered before he could.

“No.”

Mr. Bennett looked at her.

“She is telling the truth.”

Vincent stared.

“Then what happened?”

The old man exhaled.

“I left because Dominic told me to.”

Camilla looked confused.

Mr. Bennett continued.

“Raymond wanted me frightened. Dominic wanted Raymond to think it worked.”

Vincent looked between them.

“So the theft story was fake.”

“Yes.”

“And Charles knew?”

“Yes.”

Vincent’s anger turned toward his father.

“You let me believe he betrayed us.”

Dominic lowered his eyes.

“Yes.”

Vincent stepped closer.

“You keep saying you protected me.”

He pointed around the room.

“All I see are people who decided I could not be trusted with my own life.”

Nobody answered.

Then I noticed something beneath the desk.

A fresh scratch in the floor.

I crouched.

There was a small metal plate under the rug.

Dominic saw it.

His expression changed.

“What?”

He knelt beside me.

The plate had no keyhole.

Only four narrow slots.

Mr. Bennett whispered:

“That wasn’t here before.”

Camilla went pale.

“It was.”

We all looked at her.

She pointed toward Vincent’s right arm.

“The lock doesn’t use the brass key.”

Vincent stared.

“What does it use?”

Camilla looked at the black crown tattoo on his forearm.

“The pattern your father gave you when you were nineteen.”

Dominic closed his eyes.

Vincent slowly rolled back his sleeve.

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The tattoo was not decoration.

It was a code.