Chapter 9 - ELENA'S BROTHER
Vincent Moretti had not attended Elena's funeral.
According to Nathan, he had not spoken to the Coleman family in nearly five years.
According to Gerald, that was only partly true.
"What does partly mean?" I asked.
Gerald looked uncomfortable.
"It means Mr. Coleman hadn't spoken to him."
Nathan turned.
"You did?"
"Once."
"When?"
Gerald did not answer.
Nathan stepped closer.
"When?"
"After Mrs. Coleman died."
The hallway outside Mason's hospital room became silent.
Nathan's voice lowered.
"Why?"
"He called me."
"What did he want?"
"To know whether she'd left anything."
Nathan stared.
"Anything?"
"Documents."
"What documents?"
"He wouldn't say."
"And you never told me."
Gerald's patience finally snapped.
"Because everyone around you was terrified of what you would do."
Nathan recoiled slightly.
Gerald continued.
"Your wife was dead."
"Your sons were grieving."
"The family was unstable."
"Vincent hated you."
"And you had fifty men asking who needed to pay."
Nathan's expression went cold.
"Maybe somebody did."
"Exactly."
Gerald pointed toward the hospital room.
"And while everyone worried about who you might punish, nobody stopped to ask whether the danger was still inside your home."
The words hit harder because they were true.
Nathan turned away.
I asked Gerald, "Why did Vincent hate him?"
Gerald glanced at Nathan.
Nathan answered himself.
"He blamed me for Elena choosing this family."
"Meaning?"
"Her family wasn't exactly innocent either."
That was the first time Nathan acknowledged the world surrounding him.
Not directly.
But enough.
"Vincent wanted Elena to leave me."
"Did she?"
"No."
"Did she ever consider it?"
His silence answered.
Gerald looked down.
Nathan noticed.
"What?"
Gerald shook his head.
"Nothing."
"Gerald."
"Not now."
Nathan moved toward him.
"Now."
Gerald exhaled.
"Mrs. Coleman had contacted a lawyer."
Nathan stopped.
"When?"
"Two months before she died."
I watched his face.
Not anger.
Pain.
"Divorce?"
"I don't know."
"Don't lie."
"I'm not."
"What lawyer?"
"Family law."
Nathan looked through the glass at Mason.
For a moment, the investigation disappeared.
He was simply a widower discovering his marriage had contained rooms he had never entered.
"Why?"
Gerald's voice softened.
"She was frightened."
"Of me?"
"I don't know."
Nathan laughed bitterly.
"Apparently that's the only honest sentence anyone in my house knows."
I stepped between the emotional wreckage and the useful facts.
"Did Vincent know she contacted a lawyer?"
Gerald nodded.
"Yes."
"Did Dominic?"
"Possibly."
"Ashford?"
"I doubt it."
Nathan looked at me.
"You think Vincent could have poisoned the boys to punish me."
"I think a lion tattoo is more specific than a gold ring."
"Marcus saw it."
"Yes."
"He's six."
"Yes."
Nathan clenched his jaw.
"Vincent has that tattoo."
"Then we find him."
Nathan's security team had an address within twenty minutes.
Vincent owned a marina repair business in Rhode Island under another name.
Police were notified.
Nathan did not go.
That surprised me again.
He stayed beside Mason.
At four that afternoon, Mason finally spoke.
His voice was weak.
"Dad."
Nathan gripped his hand.
"I'm here."
Mason looked toward me.
"The man smelled like Uncle Vinny."
Nathan and I exchanged a glance.
"You remember Uncle Vinny?" I asked.
Mason nodded faintly.
"He used to pick me up high."
"When?"
"When Mom was here."
Nathan looked shattered.
Elena had been seeing her brother without telling him.
Another hidden room in their marriage.
"What did Uncle Vinny smell like?"
Mason frowned.
"Boats."
I almost smiled.
Oil.
Water.
Wood.
A child's description.
"Did you see his face?"
"No."
"Did he talk?"
Mason nodded.
"What did he say?"
The boy looked at Nathan.
"He said Dad took Mom away."
Nathan stopped breathing.
Then Mason whispered:
"And now Mom was taking us."
Every instinct pointed toward Vincent.
Too many.
The tattoo.
The smell.
The hatred.
The family history.
The threat.
It was almost another perfect frame.
I hated perfect evidence now.
At five thirty, police entered Vincent's marina.
They found him in an office.
Alive.
Unarmed.
Confused.
He had not left Rhode Island in three days.
At least that was what three independent cameras suggested.
Nathan stared at the footage.
"Then Marcus saw someone else."
"Or someone wanted him to see Vincent."
Gerald looked troubled.
"The tattoo."
"Easy to imitate."
Nathan's eyes moved toward me.
"You're saying someone staged it."
"I'm saying someone has already used a dead man's name and a dead woman's voice."
He sat down.
"Why involve Vincent?"
"To widen the war."
"What?"
"Your wife suspected Dominic."
"Your doctor is involved."
"Your former guard is dead."
"Now Elena's brother appears."
I pointed toward the screen.
"Every clue gives you another person to hate."
Gerald's face changed.
"Distraction."
"Yes."
"From who?"
"Someone who benefits while Nathan attacks everyone around him."
Nathan looked at me.
"Who benefits?"
I did not know.
Yet.
Then Vincent called.
Not Nathan.
Me.
I stared at my phone.
Unknown number.
I answered.
"Sarah Mitchell?"
"Yes."
His voice was rough.
"You work for Nathan."
"I work for the boys."
"Good answer."
"How did you get my number?"
"Doesn't matter."
"It does to me."
"Elena talked about you."
My blood went cold.
"What?"
A pause.
"Not by name."
"Then how?"
"She told me she'd found someone through an agency."
Nathan stood.
I put the call on speaker.
Vincent continued.
"Someone with a history of noticing things."
I felt every hair on my arms rise.
"Elena died eight months ago."
"I know."
"I wasn't hired until yesterday."
"I know."
"Then explain."
Vincent took a breath.
"My sister thought something might happen to her."
Nathan's face changed.
"She created instructions."
"For who?"
"For Gerald."
All eyes turned toward the house manager.
Gerald went pale.
"No."
Vincent laughed without humor.
"He didn't tell you?"
Nathan stared at him.
Gerald looked genuinely confused.
"I swear."
Vincent continued.
"Elena made a list."
"A list of what?" I asked.
"People to call if the boys ever became sick."
My pulse hammered.
"Why me?"
"She had read a private agency report about a case you handled."
The prescription theft.
The family whose daughter had been stealing medication.
I had thought that note on my agency profile was random.
It wasn't.
"Elena chose me?"
"Not exactly."
"Then what?"
"She chose your type."
Nathan spoke.
"Vincent."
Silence.
Nathan's voice became low.
"Did my wife think our sons would be poisoned?"
Vincent did not answer.
"Did she?"
"She thought the house was unsafe."
"Why didn't she tell me?"
"You want the real answer?"
"Yes."
"Because she stopped trusting what happened to information after she told you."
Nathan went still.
"What does that mean?"
"Every time Elena raised a concern, Dominic knew within hours."
The room froze.
Nathan looked toward Gerald.
Gerald shook his head.
Vincent continued.
"She thought your phone was compromised."
"By my brother?"
"She didn't know."
"Did you?"
"No."
"Then what did she find?"
Vincent was silent for several seconds.
Finally:
"A bank transfer."
Nathan's face changed.
"What bank transfer?"
"From one of Dominic's holding companies."
"To who?"
Vincent answered.
"Trevor Ashford."
Nobody moved.
"How much?" I asked.
"Two hundred fifty thousand dollars."
Nathan looked like he might be sick.
"When?"
"Nine days before Elena died."
The pieces shifted again.
Ashford was no longer merely cowardly.
Dominic was no longer merely suspicious.
And Elena had followed money shortly before her death.
"Do you have proof?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Where?"
Vincent hesitated.
"Elena hid it."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
Nathan's anger returned.
"Then you don't have proof."
"I have something better."
"What?"
"A message from her."
Nathan stared at the phone.
Vincent continued.
"She sent it to me the night before she died."
"What does it say?"
Vincent's voice became quiet.
"She said if anything happened to her, the person responsible would try to make Nathan believe it was family revenge."
I looked at Nathan.
Vincent added:
"She told me not to trust Dominic."
A pause.
May you like
"And she told me not to trust Gerald either."
Gerald's face went white.
