Chapter 2 - The Woman Across the Street
Alessandro crossed the street without speaking.
Howard followed.
So did I.
Grace Turner.
Twenty-eight.
Maid.
Still holding the coat Alessandro had forgotten to take from me.
The hotel across from the estate was quiet.
Too quiet.
Howard stopped outside room 507.
“She is inside.”
Alessandro stared at the door.
His hand still held the brass key from room 614.
Sixteen years.
One urn.
One funeral.
One lie.
He knocked.
Nothing.
Again.
The door opened.
Elena Vescari stood there.
Fifty-six.
Dark hair streaked with silver.
A burn scar along her left shoulder.
Same eyes as Alessandro.
Same habit of pressing her lips together before speaking.
She looked at him.
Then at the dagger tattoo on his forearm.
Her face broke.
“Alessandro.”
He did not move.
“You’re alive.”
“Yes.”
“You watched me bury sand.”
Elena closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
He stepped inside.
Howard shut the door.
There was one suitcase.
One coat.
One folder.
And a framed photograph.
Alessandro at sixteen.
Standing beside the urn.
His father behind him.
Elena stared at the photograph.
“I saw this in the newspaper.”
Alessandro looked at her.
“You saw my funeral for you.”
“Yes.”
“And stayed away.”
She flinched.
“I thought coming back would kill you.”
Alessandro laughed quietly.
“Everyone says that.”
Elena sat.
“I know.”
He placed room key 614 on the table.
“Tell me everything.”
She stared at it.
“The fire started in that room.”
“I know.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You know that is what the report says.”
Alessandro frowned.
“What are you saying?”
Elena opened the folder.
A hotel floor plan.
Room 614.
Room 616.
Service corridor.
Emergency stairwell.
She pointed.
“I was in 616.”
Silence.
Alessandro stared.
“The fire started next door.”
“Yes.”
“Then why was your room listed as 614?”
“Because someone changed the guest registry.”
Howard nodded.
“I saw the altered copy.”
Alessandro looked at Elena.
“Who changed it?”
She answered:
“Richard Crane.”
His face hardened.
“Isabella’s father.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“To make it look like I was the intended victim.”
Alessandro stopped.
“Wasn’t I?”
Elena looked away.
“No.”
He already knew what was coming.
“Who was?”
She whispered:
“Your father.”
Silence.
Alessandro stared.
“You said Richard lied about that.”
“He did.”
“What part?”
Elena pointed at the floor plan.
“Your father was supposed to be in room 614.”
Alessandro’s jaw tightened.
“But he wasn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I changed rooms with him.”
Howard looked surprised.
Alessandro turned.
“You never told him?”
Elena shook her head.
“I never told anyone.”
“Why would you switch rooms?”
Elena looked at the photograph of Alessandro at sixteen.
“Because your father had received a threat.”
Alessandro frowned.
“What threat?”
She opened another envelope.
One typed line.
LEAVE THE VESCARI ACCOUNTS ALONE OR ROOM 614 BURNS.
Alessandro read it twice.
“What accounts?”
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