Chapter 6 - The Photograph Taken After the Murder

Marco refused the trade.

At first.

Then Elena looked at him.

“My father.”

Marco looked at the album.

Then the film.

Then Maria.

She said:

“Take it.”

Arthur frowned.

“Maria.”

“They already know it exists.”

Marco nodded.

“But not what we copied.”

Dominic looked at him.

“What did you copy?”

Marco smiled for the first time that night.

“Enough.”

He had photographed every negative strip with his phone.

Uploaded them.

To Ward.

To his lawyer.

To a secure server.

The album was no longer leverage.

Only bait.

They drove to Victor’s house.

Federal investigators were not called.

Not yet.

Ward explained why.

Evan Hale still controlled local police channels.

They needed him talking.

Victor’s house was dark.

Front door open.

Marco entered with the album.

Elena behind him.

Maria stayed in the car with Arthur and me.

Ward came through the rear.

Inside:

Victor tied to a dining chair.

Blood at his lip.

Evan Hale stood behind him.

Forty-two.

Clean suit.

Police badge.

Gun.

On the table were developed photographs.

Marco saw one.

Antonio Bellini lying on the floor.

Alive.

Commissioner Hale standing over him.

Next photograph.

Hale kneeling.

Hand near Antonio’s throat.

Next.

Antonio no longer moving.

Marco stopped.

His father’s murder.

Captured.

Eighteen years ago.

Victor had preserved the prints.

Evan smiled.

“You wanted the truth.”

Marco looked at him.

“You knew these existed.”

“My father knew.”

“Did he tell you he murdered Antonio?”

Evan’s smile faded.

“My father protected this city.”

Victor laughed through blood.

“He protected your inheritance.”

Evan struck him.

Elena shouted:

“Stop!”

Marco raised the album.

“You want this?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because Maria photographed more than my father.”

Marco stared.

Evan continued.

“She photographed Victor paying Dominic.”

Victor closed his eyes.

“And?”

“Ward taking cash.”

Silence.

Marco looked toward the dark hallway.

Ward had heard.

Evan smiled.

“Your honest detective was not always honest.”

Ward stepped into the room.

Gun lowered.

Marco looked at him.

“Is it true?”

Ward did not answer.

That was enough.

Maria had followed inside.

She stood in the doorway.

“Samuel.”

Ward closed his eyes.

“I took money.”

Marco’s face hardened.

“How much?”

“Five thousand.”

“For what?”

“To delay a search warrant.”

Maria stared.

“You told me you were clean.”

“No.”

Ward’s voice broke.

“I told you I was trying to fix what I did.”

Evan laughed.

“Everyone in this room has a price.”

Marco looked at him.

“No.”

Then at Ward.

“Some people admit it too late.”

Ward accepted that.

Evan pointed the gun at Marco.

“Album.”

Marco tossed it onto the table.

Evan opened it.

Empty spine.

His face changed.

“You removed the film.”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Safe.”

Evan grabbed Elena.

Gun against her side.

Victor shouted.

Marco froze.

Elena whispered:

“Don’t.”

Evan looked at Marco.

“You have ten seconds.”

Marco said:

“You already lost.”

Evan smiled.

“Why?”

“Because your father’s murder photographs are on that table.”

Evan looked down.

One second.

Ward moved.

Fast.

He struck Evan’s wrist.

The gun fired.

Glass shattered.

Marco pulled Elena away.

Victor kicked the chair backward into Evan’s legs.

Ward disarmed him.

Seconds later, Evan was on the floor.

But Victor had been hit.

Blood spread across his shirt.

Elena dropped beside him.

“Dad.”

Victor looked at Marco.

“Desk.”

Marco frowned.

Victor pointed weakly toward the study.

“Bottom drawer.”

Marco ran.

Inside:

A sealed envelope.

MARCO BELLINI.

He opened it.

One photograph.

Maria.

Dominic.

Antonio.

Taken months before Antonio died.

But the shocking part was not the three of them.

It was the baby in Maria’s arms.

On the back:

MARCO’S BROTHER.

DO NOT LET DOMINIC FIND HIM.

Marco stared.

He returned to the dining room.

Maria saw the photograph.

Her face collapsed.

Marco held it up.

“Who is this child?”

Silence.

Then Maria whispered:

“Your brother.”

Marco’s voice became quiet.

“I have a brother?”

“Yes.”

“Alive?”

Maria nodded.

“Where?”

She looked at Dominic.

He had followed them to the house.

Dominic’s face had gone white.

Maria said:

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“That is the one secret Dominic was never supposed to learn.”

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