Chapter 5 - The Fourth Name

The ferry bell was brass.

Old.

Heavy.

Henry had carried it from his first boat after retirement.

He unscrewed the lower plate.

Inside was a rolled paper tube.

The original manifest.

Seventeen years old.

Vincent unfolded it.

Michael Bellini.

Thomas Morel.

Anna Cole.

And beneath them—

A fourth name.

The copy shown at the engagement dinner had been cropped.

Vincent stared.

ADRIAN BELLINI.

Silence.

Thomas closed his eyes.

Anna whispered:

“He was on the ferry.”

Henry nodded.

Vincent looked at him.

“You said there were three.”

“I wanted Thomas to admit what he knew first.”

Vincent’s expression hardened.

“You manipulated me.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t know whether Adrian still controlled Thomas.”

Thomas looked at Henry.

“I stopped working with him years ago.”

Henry replied:

“You stopped obeying him.”

“Not the same thing.”

Vincent held the manifest.

“My uncle went to the island.”

“Yes.”

“Why did everyone say Thomas left first?”

“Because Thomas did.”

“And Adrian?”

“He stayed.”

Anna looked sick.

“I never saw him.”

Henry nodded.

“He came on a second launch after dark.”

Vincent stared.

“What happened?”

Henry looked at Anna.

“Michael sent you inside.”

She nodded slowly.

“I remember.”

“There was an argument outside.”

“Yes.”

“You thought it was Thomas.”

“Yes.”

“It was Adrian.”

Anna sat.

Vincent asked:

“What did they argue about?”

Henry looked at the manifest.

“Vincent.”

Silence.

“Michael wanted to bring you to Anna.”

“Adrian said he would destroy you financially and legally if Michael returned.”

Vincent nodded.

“We know that.”

Henry continued.

“But there was something else.”

“What?”

“Adrian told Michael Julia’s death wasn’t natural.”

Vincent froze.

Anna looked up.

“What?”

Henry’s voice dropped.

“Julia had found the financial records.”

Vincent stared.

“She knew.”

“Yes.”

“She threatened to expose Adrian.”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

Henry looked at Thomas.

Thomas whispered:

“She died three weeks later.”

Vincent’s face went blank.

He had been five.

Julia Bellini.

The woman who raised him.

The mother he remembered.

Official cause:

Aneurysm.

Vincent’s voice was barely audible.

“Did Adrian kill her?”

Henry said:

“I don’t know.”

Thomas added:

“But Michael believed he did.”

Anna covered her mouth.

Vincent looked at the fourth name again.

His uncle had been present the night his father disappeared.

Had found Michael years later.

Had visited before Michael died.

And now might be connected to Julia’s death.

Vincent folded the manifest.

“We go back.”

Henry shook his head.

“Not yet.”

Vincent turned.

“Why?”

The captain looked toward the island house.

“There’s one more thing.”

Of course.

Henry walked to the cellar.

Behind old shelves was a metal box.

Inside:

A videotape.

A camera memory card.

A sealed envelope.

Vincent picked up the envelope.

His name.

Written by Michael.

He opened it.

Vincent,

If Adrian ever claims he did this for the family, ask him why Julia had to die.

Vincent stopped reading.

Anna closed her eyes.

The letter continued.

I never proved he killed her.

But I proved he paid the doctor who changed her autopsy report.

Thomas whispered:

“That’s enough.”

Vincent looked at him.

“Not for me.”

He picked up the memory card.

“What’s on this?”

Henry answered:

“Adrian on the island.”

Seventeen years earlier.

A hidden camera.

Michael had recorded the confrontation.

We watched it on an old laptop.

Michael stood on the dock.

Adrian faced him.

Younger.

Angry.

Adrian said:

“You don’t understand what Father built.”

Michael answered:

“He built crimes in my son’s name.”

“He built protection.”

“He built a prison.”

Adrian stepped closer.

“If you take Vincent now, you activate every investigation attached to those companies.”

“Then I’ll clear his name.”

“You won’t live long enough.”

Michael stared at him.

“Is that a threat?”

Adrian smiled.

“No.”

“A warning.”

Then Michael asked:

“Like Julia?”

Adrian’s face changed.

The video ended.

Vincent stared.

“Why did it stop?”

Henry whispered:

“Someone found the camera.”

The last frame showed a hand reaching toward the lens.

A ring.

Black stone.

Vincent knew it.

Adrian still wore it.

Vincent stood.

“We go back now.”

Anna grabbed his arm.

“No.”

He looked at her.

“I lost one mother.”

“Then one father.”

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He held up the manifest.

“I’m not letting the man between both disappear again.”