Chapter 7 - Gate Seventeen

Dante did not go to Gate Seventeen alone.

He went with police.

That was the first decision Vittorio had not expected.

For years, the Moretti name had solved its own problems.

Quietly.

Privately.

Inside closed rooms.

Dante wanted this one opened.

By dawn, detectives had Elena’s ledger, copies of the camera footage, Julian Cross’s statement and Rocco’s confession.

Meredith also agreed to cooperate.

Not because Dante forgave her.

He did not.

She did it because the photograph of Lily frightened even her.

Someone had entered the child’s room recently.

Someone besides Meredith.

Gate Seventeen stood inside an abandoned freight terminal along the river.

The blue key opened a side entrance.

Inside were three rooms.

One bed.

One table.

A wall covered in photographs of the Moretti family.

Dante.

Elena.

Lily.

Even Meredith.

At the center was a photograph of Alessandro Moretti.

Beneath it hung three suits identical to ones Alessandro had worn in old family photographs.

Stefano had not simply resembled Dante’s father.

He had been trained to become him.

Footsteps sounded above.

Police moved.

A man appeared on the metal stairs.

Gray at the temples.

Broad shoulders.

The scar beneath the ear was artificial.

But the resemblance was still disturbing.

Dante looked at the face of his dead father.

Stefano looked back.

“So,” he said quietly. “You finally found the moon.”

Dante’s eyes narrowed.

“You knew Elena’s clue?”

“I knew she liked puzzles.”

Police ordered Stefano down.

He obeyed.

No fight.

No attempt to run.

He looked tired.

Almost relieved.

Dante hated that more than arrogance.

“Were you at the crash?” Dante asked.

Stefano said nothing.

A detective interrupted.

“You can answer at the station.”

Stefano smiled faintly.

“Then you will miss the rest.”

Dante stared at him.

“What rest?”

Stefano looked at Meredith.

She looked away.

Then he pointed toward a locked metal cabinet.

Inside were financial records.

Passports.

Hard drives.

And the blue music box.

Dante lifted it carefully.

The enamel surface was scratched.

He opened the lid.

Four familiar notes played.

Lily’s blue music.

Beneath the mechanism was a hidden compartment.

Inside sat a small voice recorder.

Elena again.

One last recording.

Her voice was breathless.

Wind rushed in the background.

“I am at the river terminal.”

Dante closed his eyes.

The recording had been made the night she died.

“They followed me from the chapel.”

A car door slammed somewhere behind her.

“I moved the ledger. They do not know where.”

Footsteps.

Elena whispered faster.

“Stefano is here. Rocco is outside. Vittorio is coming.”

Dante looked at the three men’s names as though they were standing in the room.

Then Elena said something unexpected.

“Mara tried to warn me.”

Every eye turned toward Meredith.

She began to cry silently.

The recording continued.

“She gave me ten minutes.”

Dante stared at her.

Meredith whispered, “I called Elena from a pay phone.”

“Why?”

“Because Vittorio told me Lily would be in the car with her.”

Dante went still.

Meredith shook her head.

“I had done terrible things. I had stolen. Lied. Moved money. But I would not help kill a child.”

Dante’s voice hardened.

“So you warned Elena.”

“Yes.”

Elena’s recording continued.

“If I do not leave here, Dante must know Mara was part of this, but she is not the person who ordered it.”

Then a man’s voice sounded in the background.

Vittorio.

“Elena.”

The recording shook.

“You should have taken the money.”

Elena answered.

“You should have remembered whose family this was.”

Vittorio laughed softly.

“You think Dante owns the Moretti name because he inherited the house?”

A second voice.

Stefano.

“Enough.”

Then Rocco.

“We need to leave.”

Elena spoke again.

“You will not touch my daughter.”

Vittorio answered.

“I don’t need to. Once you are gone, Dante will destroy himself.”

The recording stopped.

No confession to murder.

But enough to place them together.

Dante looked at Stefano.

“You followed her from here.”

Stefano nodded once.

“Rocco followed first.”

Rocco stared at the floor.

“And you?”

“I was in Vittorio’s car.”

“Did you force her off the road?”

Stefano’s face tightened.

“No.”

“Then what happened?”

Stefano looked toward the detectives.

“Vittorio had arranged for Elena’s car to fail before she ever reached the highway.”

Dante’s hands curled.

Stefano continued.

“When she realized, she slowed and tried to pull over. Rocco’s vehicle was behind her. She lost control.”

Rocco’s eyes closed.

“I could have helped sooner.”

Dante looked at him.

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

Stefano’s voice was quieter.

“I reached her first.”

Dante looked at him.

“She was alive?”

“Yes.”

The word cut through the room.

“For how long?”

“Minutes.”

“And Vittorio?”

“He arrived while Julian was examining her.”

Dante’s jaw tightened.

“What did he do?”

Stefano looked down.

“He took her phone.”

Dante froze.

“Her phone was never recovered.”

“I know.”

“Where is it?”

Stefano looked toward the river.

“Vittorio kept it.”

“Why?”

“Because Elena sent one message after the crash.”

Dante’s heart pounded.

“To whom?”

Stefano looked directly at him.

“To you.”

Silence.

Dante had never received it.

Stefano continued.

“Vittorio deleted it before your phone came back online.”

“What did it say?”

Stefano’s expression changed.

“I don’t know.”

Dante stepped closer.

Stefano held his gaze.

“But Elena said the message contained the name of the person she trusted most.”

Dante frowned.

Then a detective opened one of the recovered hard drives.

A folder appeared.

ELENA PHONE BACKUP.

Inside were thousands of files.

And one unsent message.

Time stamped 10:39 p.m.

Three minutes before the official crash time.

The recipient was Dante.

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The message contained only six words.

TRUST SOFIA. SHE HAS THE ORIGINAL.