Chapter 8 - The House Above the Adriatic

Vincent had rented a house above the sea.

Private road.

Stone walls.

One entrance.

Elena knew better than to send us inside blindly.

She called local authorities she trusted.

Not family contacts.

Not business contacts.

People Vincent had never paid.

We waited in a car below the hill.

Serena did not speak for almost an hour.

Lucian finally asked:

“What did your father tell you about Alberto?”

“That he abandoned your family.”

“He told me the same thing.”

Serena looked at him.

“He said Alberto ran because he was weak.”

Lucian stared through the windshield.

“Maybe he was.”

I looked at him.

He noticed.

“You disagree?”

“I think frightened and weak are different things.”

Lucian gave me a tired look.

“My mother was frightened.”

“Yes.”

“She still disappeared.”

“To keep you alive.”

He looked away.

That answer did not comfort him.

Elena returned.

“Two men inside.”

“Vincent and Alberto?”

“Probably.”

“Any weapons?”

“One handgun visible.”

Serena went pale.

Lucian opened the door.

Elena stopped him.

“You are not walking into that house before police arrive.”

Lucian looked at her.

“My father vanished eleven years ago.”

“And another ten minutes will not kill you.”

Then a gunshot came from the hill.

One.

Sharp.

Lucian ran.

So did Elena.

I followed until Serena grabbed my arm.

“Claire.”

Another sound.

Not a gunshot.

A window breaking.

Police vehicles appeared at the bottom road.

Everything happened quickly after that.

Commands.

Running footsteps.

A door forced open.

Then silence.

Vincent came out first.

Hands raised.

Blood on his sleeve.

Not his blood.

Serena stared at him from behind the police line.

He saw her.

His face changed.

“Serena.”

She did not move.

“Tell them this is a misunderstanding.”

She shook her head.

“Not this time.”

They took him down the hill.

Lucian came out next.

Supporting an older man.

Alberto.

The gunshot had gone into the wall.

Vincent had tried to force Alberto to sign a statement claiming full responsibility for the 2007 shipping fraud.

Alberto refused.

They struggled.

The gun fired.

No one was hit.

Lucian and his father stopped a few feet apart once they were outside.

Alberto looked at him.

“Lucian.”

Lucian did not answer.

Alberto started crying.

“I watched you from a distance.”

That made Lucian angrier.

“You all say that like it makes anything better.”

Alberto lowered his eyes.

“No.”

“It makes it worse.”

“I know.”

“Why didn’t you come home?”

“Because Vincent had copies of everything I signed.”

“So?”

“He said if I returned, he would destroy you with me.”

Lucian laughed.

“You really believed that?”

“At first.”

“And later?”

Alberto looked ashamed.

“Later I was afraid you would learn what I had done.”

There it was.

Not sacrifice.

Not entirely.

Shame.

Lucian nodded slowly.

“Thank you.”

Alberto looked confused.

“For what?”

“For finally telling me something ugly without calling it protection.”

Serena looked at her father as police placed him in a vehicle.

Vincent shouted her name.

She did not answer.

Then Alberto looked at me.

“You’re Sarah’s daughter.”

Again.

Everyone seemed to know my mother except me.

“Yes.”

He reached into his coat.

Elena tensed.

But Alberto only removed a small envelope.

“I kept this because I was too ashamed to send it.”

My name was written on the front.

CLAIRE HAYES.

The handwriting was my mother’s.

My hands started shaking.

“When did she give you this?”

“Three days before she died.”

I stared at him.

“You saw my mother ten years ago?”

“Yes.”

“She knew where you were?”

“Yes.”

I opened the envelope.

Inside was one sentence.

CLAIRE, IF THE VESCARIS EVER FIND THE TRUTH, DO NOT LET THEM TURN JUSTICE INTO REVENGE.

I read it twice.

Then Lucian read it over my shoulder.

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Neither of us spoke.

Because we both knew exactly who the message was really for.