Chapter 4 - The Dead Man at the Bank
Vincent Caruso wasn't dead.
That was the first truth.
The second was worse.
Roman's father might not have died the way Roman had been told.
Dominic found Vincent forty-eight hours later in a small coastal town in Rhode Island, living under the name Victor Russo.
Roman drove there himself.
Claire insisted on coming.
"You shouldn't."
"You've said that about fourteen times."
"Because you shouldn't."
"My father's box."
"My father's driver."
"Our problem."
Roman glanced at her from behind the wheel.
Claire sat wrapped in a wool coat Mrs. Patel had brought from the estate. She still looked pale.
"Our?"
"Don't get sentimental."
"I wasn't."
"Good."
Roman almost smiled.
The house was small.
Vincent opened the door before they knocked.
He was seventy now.
His hair was white.
His face had aged.
But Roman recognized him.
Vincent looked at Roman and closed his eyes.
"I wondered how long."
Roman's voice was flat.
"You attended my tenth birthday."
Vincent nodded.
"You taught me to drive."
"I remember."
"I attended your funeral."
Vincent looked away.
Roman stepped closer.
"Explain that."
They sat in Vincent's kitchen.
No bodyguards inside.
Claire noticed Roman had positioned himself between her and the door anyway.
Vincent poured coffee with shaking hands.
"Your father discovered what Northstar was doing."
Roman waited.
"It started as debt collection. Then Salvatore and Charles Mercer realized debt could buy more than money."
"People," Claire said.
Vincent looked at her.
"You must be Thomas's girl."
Claire stiffened.
"You knew him?"
"He saved lives."
"Mine didn't feel saved."
Vincent lowered his eyes.
"Thomas found accounts showing Northstar deliberately targeting families in crisis. Medical debt. Small businesses. Gambling losses. Anything desperate enough."
Roman's face hardened.
"For what?"
"Leverage. Judges. Union officials. Accountants. Police officers."
Claire thought of the sentence on the photograph.
It's how they own people.
"My father found evidence?"
"Enough to destroy them."
"Then why didn't he?"
Vincent looked at Roman.
"Because Charles Mercer discovered Thomas had copied the records."
Claire whispered, "The seventy-five thousand."
"Payment for work Thomas had done before he understood what Northstar really was. They later rewrote it as a loan."
Her hands curled into fists.
"They made us pay back money he earned?"
"With interest."
"Why?"
"To keep you controlled."
Claire stood abruptly.
Roman reached toward her but stopped himself.
She walked to the window.
Six years.
Six years of fear.
Lily apologizing.
Claire working Christmas.
Their father's memory slowly turning into that of a desperate man who'd left his daughters with debt.
It had all been manufactured.
"Why Vivian?" Claire asked.
Vincent's face changed.
"Because Charles is dying."
Roman looked up.
"What?"
"Cancer. He has months."
Neither Roman nor Claire knew.
Vincent continued.
"Charles wants everything cleaned before he dies. Old accounts. Old evidence. Thomas's files."
"The safe-deposit box," Roman said.
Vincent nodded.
"I opened it."
"What was inside?"
"A ledger."
"Where is it?"
Vincent looked toward Claire.
"Your father left instructions."
"What instructions?"
"Only Claire could receive it."
Claire turned.
"Why me?"
"Because Lily was too young."
Her breath caught.
Vincent stood and walked into another room.
He returned carrying a small metal box.
Claire stared at it.
Roman didn't touch it.
Vincent handed it directly to her.
Inside were documents.
Photographs.
A flash drive.
And an envelope.
CLAIRE.
Her father's handwriting.
Her fingers shook as she opened it.
Claire,
If you're reading this, then I failed to keep this away from you.
I'm sorry.
She stopped.
Roman said nothing.
She continued.
I need you to know one thing first.
Lily's illness was never your fault.
The money was never hers.
And the debt isn't real.
Claire covered her mouth.
Roman looked away, giving her the smallest privacy he could in a room with nowhere to hide.
She kept reading.
I found something terrible while working for Northstar. I tried to leave. They wouldn't let me.
Daniel DeLuca tried to help.
Roman's father.
Roman stepped closer.
Claire handed him the page.
His eyes moved rapidly.
Daniel believes his brother is preparing to remove him from the company. If anything happens to either of us, the records in this box can prove what Northstar became.
Roman stopped.
"What date?"
Claire checked.
Twelve years earlier.
Two weeks before his father died.
Vincent spoke behind them.
"Daniel planned to go federal."
Roman turned.
"My father?"
"Yes."
"And you helped him."
"I tried."
"What happened?"
Vincent looked old suddenly.
"Someone knew."
Roman's voice became dangerous.
"Who?"
"I never proved it."
"Guess."
"Salvatore."
Roman's uncle.
Vincent continued.
"The crash was staged. I was supposed to be in the car. Daniel changed plans at the last minute."
Roman's pulse hammered.
"Then whose body was identified as yours?"
"A man Northstar owned."
Roman stood completely still.
"And my father?"
Vincent didn't answer.
Roman stepped closer.
"Was he alive after the crash?"
"Yes."
The word broke something.
Roman's father had survived.
"How long?"
"Three hours."
Roman's face emptied.
"Where?"
"A warehouse."
Claire watched him.
Vincent's eyes filled with shame.
"They wanted the location of the records. Daniel wouldn't give it."
Roman turned away.
For years he'd imagined his father dying instantly.
No fear.
No pain.
Now—
Claire touched his arm.
Very lightly.
Roman didn't move away.
Vincent whispered, "His last words were about you."
Roman closed his eyes.
"I don't want them."
"Roman—"
"I said I don't want them."
Claire understood.
Some truths had to wait until you could survive them.
They left with the box.
Outside, snow had begun falling again.
Not heavily.
Claire stood beside the car.
"Are you okay?"
Roman laughed without humor.
"No."
It was such an unguarded answer that she didn't know what to say.
He looked toward the gray ocean.
"I spent twelve years becoming exactly what I thought he needed me to become."
"Strong?"
"Untouchable."
Claire looked at him.
"Those aren't the same thing."
Roman turned.
For a few seconds, neither spoke.
Then a gunshot shattered Vincent's kitchen window.
Roman moved before Claire understood the sound.
He threw her behind the stone wall beside the driveway.
"Stay down."
Another shot.
Glass exploded.
Roman pulled his phone.
His security team surged from the second vehicle.
Claire grabbed his sleeve.
"Vincent."
Roman looked toward the house.
Smoke appeared inside.
"Fire!"
Claire started forward.
Roman caught her.
"No."
"He's inside!"
His men ran toward the door.
Seconds later Vincent stumbled out through the back, coughing.
Alive.
Roman exhaled.
Then Claire looked toward the road.
A black SUV was disappearing around the bend.
She saw the license plate.
Only three characters.
But she remembered them.
"M7C."
Roman looked at her.
"What?"
"The plate. M7C."
His expression changed.
Claire knew immediately.
"You recognize it."
Roman's phone was already in his hand.
Dominic answered.
"M7C," Roman said. "Check Mercer vehicles."
Silence.
Then typing.
Dominic returned thirty seconds later.
"Registered to Mercer Foundation Security."
Claire's stomach dropped.
Roman looked back at Vincent's burning kitchen.
Charles Mercer wasn't simply connected to what happened to their fathers.
He was still trying to bury it.
May you like
And his daughter had nearly buried Claire with it.
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