Chapter 5 - Someone Wanted Grace Gone
Grace heard the deadbolt slide.
She spun.
“Dominic!”
No answer.
She ran toward the door and pulled.
Locked.
Then a light came on behind her.
Vincent Hale stood near the old bakery counter.
Gold watch.
Gray coat.
Perfect posture.
Grace’s blood ran cold.
“You really are Margaret’s daughter,” he said.
Grace backed toward the wall.
“Dominic is outside.”
Vincent smiled.
“No, he isn’t.”
Grace kept her voice steady.
“You seem confident.”
“I sent one of my men around the alley. Dominic has other things occupying him.”
Grace reached slowly toward her purse.
Vincent shook his head.
“Phone won’t help. Signal jammer.”
“Very dramatic.”
“You joke when you’re frightened.”
“I also get sarcastic when annoyed. Tonight is versatile.”
His smile disappeared.
“You have been inconvenient since the moment you entered Romano’s.”
“You knocked a glass off the bar.”
“I hoped humiliation would do what it usually does.”
Grace’s jaw tightened.
“Make me leave.”
“Yes.”
“You miscalculated.”
“Clearly.”
He stepped closer.
Grace did not retreat.
“What did you do to my mother?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Margaret was always difficult.”
“Good. Genetic.”
Vincent stared at her.
Then, unexpectedly, he laughed.
“Your mother said the same thing once.”
Grace’s chest hurt.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s the truth. Margaret became very skilled at disappearing.”
Grace glanced around.
Old shelves.
Broken counter.
Dust.
Two exits.
Front locked.
Perhaps rear door.
Vincent noticed.
“I am not here to hurt you.”
“That’s comforting coming from the man who locked me inside a building at five in the morning.”
“I need the flash drive.”
Grace’s pulse jumped.
“You think I have it?”
“I think Dominic lets you closer than he should.”
“Dominic barely lets oxygen close.”
Vincent stepped nearer.
“You don’t understand him.”
“Maybe not.”
“He was raised by Anthony Romano.”
“So?”
“So men do not escape their fathers simply because they decide they dislike the resemblance.”
Grace studied him.
“You’re afraid of him.”
For the first time Vincent’s face changed.
Tiny.
But enough.
Grace continued.
“You’ve spent months hiding records in his basement because you’re afraid Dominic will find out what you did.”
Vincent’s jaw hardened.
“You know nothing.”
“I know Elena is alive.”
That landed.
Grace saw it.
Vincent stared at her.
Then the back door crashed open.
Dominic entered.
Rafael behind him.
Vincent moved away from Grace instantly.
Dominic’s attention went to her.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
He looked her over anyway.
Grace said, “I’m fine.”
Only then did he turn toward Vincent.
Dominic became completely still.
Grace had seen anger before.
People shouted.
Paced.
Threw things.
Dominic’s anger became quiet enough to hear dust settle.
“You locked her in here.”
Vincent adjusted his cuff.
“We were talking.”
“You locked the door.”
“I wanted privacy.”
Dominic stepped forward.
Grace touched his arm.
Not to stop him physically.
Just enough to remind him she was there.
“Don’t.”
He looked at her.
“Not for him,” she said. “For you.”
Something in Dominic’s expression softened.
Rafael moved between the men.
“The police are coming.”
Vincent smiled.
“For what? A conversation?”
Grace lifted her phone.
Vincent’s smile vanished.
“I thought you jammed it,” she said.
“I did.”
“You jammed the signal. Not the recorder.”
She pressed play.
His voice filled the room.
I need the flash drive.
Grace smiled.
“Waitressing taught me many things. One is that men who underestimate women tend to talk too much.”
The police questioned everyone.
Vincent was not arrested immediately.
As Grace learned that morning, suspicion was not proof.
Breaking into an abandoned building was difficult to establish when Vincent claimed he had access through a property client.
Locking the door became “a misunderstanding.”
The recording proved he wanted the flash drive, not why.
But for the first time, Vincent looked worried.
That mattered.
Back at Romano’s, Grace sat alone at the bar.
Dominic placed coffee in front of her.
“Extra cream.”
She looked up.
“How did you know?”
“You order it every shift.”
“You notice too much.”
“So I’ve been told.”
Grace wrapped her hands around the mug.
“You followed me.”
“You noticed.”
“You said you wouldn’t.”
“I said I’d respect you going inside alone.”
“That sounds suspiciously lawyerly.”
“I grew up around lawyers.”
“Unfortunately.”
He sat beside her.
Grace looked at him.
“You thought he would hurt me.”
“Yes.”
“You were scared.”
Dominic’s expression went blank.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Grace.”
“You were.”
He looked down at his coffee.
Then he surprised her.
“Yes.”
The admission was quiet.
Grace’s chest tightened.
Dominic continued.
“I’m accustomed to being able to fix problems.”
“And I’m a problem?”
“No.”
He looked at her.
“That’s the problem.”
Grace forgot how to answer.
Dominic stood.
“I owe you an apology.”
“For following me?”
“For deciding that protecting you gave me permission to ignore what you asked.”
Grace stared.
Men had apologized to her before.
Usually because they wanted the argument to end.
Dominic seemed uncomfortable in a deeper way.
As if saying the words mattered.
“Thank you,” she said.
He nodded.
“And for the record, I’m glad you followed me.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“That does not mean you were right.”
“Of course not.”
“But I’m glad.”
“Understood.”
They looked at each other too long.
Grace broke eye contact first.
“Where’s Elena?”
“Checking another address Rebecca left in her records.”
“And Rafael?”
“Running Vincent’s property history.”
Grace took a sip.
“Then what do we do?”
“We wait.”
Grace groaned.
“I hate waiting.”
“I noticed.”
Two hours later, Elena returned.
She was holding a cardboard box.
“I found Margaret’s storage unit.”
Grace stood.
Inside were journals.
Photographs.
Letters.
Twenty years of pieces.
Grace spent the entire afternoon reading.
Her mother had never stopped writing to her.
Birthdays.
Christmases.
Graduation.
Even when she had no address she trusted.
Grace,
You are fifteen today.
I wonder whether you still hate peas.
Grace,
You are eighteen.
I hope you know I am proud of the woman I imagine you becoming.
Grace cried silently.
Dominic sat across the room.
He did not approach.
He gave her the dignity of grief.
Eventually she found the final journal.
The last entry was dated three weeks earlier.
Vincent found me again.
I’m going back to Chicago.
I should have stopped running years ago.
Grace deserves the truth.
If anything happens, the final evidence is where Sofia said it would always be safest:
behind the woman everyone underestimates.
Grace looked up.
“Behind the woman everyone underestimates.”
Elena frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Dominic stared toward the restaurant.
Then his expression changed.
“My mother.”
They hurried into the dining room.
A large framed portrait of Sofia Romano hung behind the bar.
Grace had seen it dozens of times.
Elegant woman.
Dark hair.
Gentle eyes.
Dominic removed the frame.
Behind it was a recessed metal box.
Rafael brought tools.
Inside they found the missing red ledger.
And a second book.
Black leather.
Dominic opened it.
Detailed records.
Names.
Payments.
Signatures.
Including Vincent Hale.
But that was not what made Grace stop breathing.
A folded document rested inside.
A sworn statement.
Signed by Anthony Romano.
It detailed the criminal financial scheme.
Carlo had organized it.
Vincent had falsified documents.
Anthony had participated for years before attempting to end it.
And when Rebecca Marsh threatened to expose everything, Vincent had ordered someone to frighten her.
Not kill her.
But the intimidation caused Rebecca to flee in panic.
Her car crashed.
Elena’s mother had not died in an ordinary accident.
Grace closed her eyes.
Elena sat heavily.
Dominic read every page.
His father was guilty.
Not of murder.
But not innocent either.
He had allowed fear to become a weapon until he could no longer control where it pointed.
Dominic whispered, “He knew.”
Grace looked at him.
“Yes.”
“He knew what happened to Rebecca.”
“Yes.”
“And kept quiet.”
Grace watched grief settle over his face.
She understood something then.
Dominic had spent years trying not to become his father.
Now he was discovering how much damage silence itself could do.
He closed the ledger.
“We take this to the police.”
Rafael nodded.
Grace looked toward the door.
“Where is Vincent?”
Nobody answered.
Rafael checked his phone.
Then his face changed.
“He left his house thirty minutes ago.”
Dominic stood.
“Where did he go?”
Rafael looked at Grace.
“Here.”
The lights in Romano’s went out.
Grace’s heart jumped.
Not again.
Emergency lights activated.
Someone shouted from the kitchen.
Then Teresa screamed.
They ran.
Teresa stood near the rear entrance, unharmed but shaking.
The door was open.
On the floor lay Vincent’s gold watch.
And a note.
BRING THE LEDGER TO THE OLD SOUTH STATION.
May you like
COME WITH GRACE.
IF YOU WANT MARGARET BENNETT BACK.
