Chapter 3 - The Message Sarah Never Meant Me to Read
Mateo’s car was silent.
Not ordinary-car silent.
Armored-SUV silent.
The doors made a heavy mechanical sound when they locked.
I noticed.
Mateo noticed me noticing.
“You can open them.”
“I’m thrilled.”
He sat across from me instead of beside me.
For a supposedly ruthless man, he seemed strangely aware of giving me space.
Luca sat in front speaking quietly into his phone.
I stared through tinted glass at Chicago waking up.
People carried coffee.
Buses stopped.
A woman jogged with a golden retriever.
Somewhere between Lake Shore Drive and downtown, I realized the most disturbing thing about surviving a shooting was how quickly the rest of the world returned to normal.
Mine hadn’t.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“My house.”
I turned.
“No.”
“You agreed.”
“I agreed to somewhere secure. You did not mention your house.”
“My house is secure.”
“That is exactly what a kidnapper would say.”
Mateo rubbed his forehead.
“Do kidnappers usually allow their victims to call the police from inside the kidnapping?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t researched premium kidnapping packages.”
Luca made a choking sound from the front.
Mateo looked at him.
“Something funny?”
“No.”
The SUV exited toward the North Shore.
Twenty minutes later, iron gates opened.
I expected a mansion designed by someone who had recently discovered gold.
Instead, Mateo’s house was enormous but almost austere.
Gray stone.
Glass.
Oak.
Nothing flashy.
Nothing warm.
The interior surprised me more.
No family photographs.
No clutter.
No evidence anyone truly lived there.
“You have the home decorating style of a high-end dentist,” I said.
Mateo removed his jacket.
“I’ll notify the architect.”
A woman in her sixties entered.
Gray hair.
Navy dress.
Kind eyes.
“Mr. Valente.”
“Rosa, this is Harper.”
Rosa looked at me.
Then at Mateo.
Her eyebrows rose.
Mateo sighed.
“No.”
“I said nothing.”
“Everyone keeps saying that today.”
Rosa led me upstairs.
The guest room was larger than my apartment.
When she opened the closet, there were new clothes inside.
Jeans.
Sweaters.
Underwear.
Everything approximately my size.
I backed away.
“No.”
Rosa frowned.
“What?”
“He bought underwear.”
Rosa smiled.
“Mr. Valente did not personally shop for your underwear.”
“You’re sure?”
“Very.”
“That somehow makes this only ten percent less disturbing.”
Rosa laughed.
I liked her immediately.
After showering, I found Mateo in a study.
His injured arm had been rebandaged.
A doctor was packing a medical bag.
“You were shot before last night?” I asked.
The doctor looked at Mateo.
Mateo dismissed him.
“Two days ago.”
“By the Carusos?”
“We don’t know.”
“You were injured and still sleeping in a hotel?”
“My house was being inspected.”
“For what?”
He hesitated.
“A security breach.”
I stared.
“So someone attacked your home, then someone sent me into your hotel suite, then gunmen came upstairs?”
“Yes.”
“And you still think this is about killing you?”
Mateo leaned back.
“What do you think?”
“I think somebody wants you frightened.”
“I’m not frightened.”
“That might be your problem.”
His gaze sharpened.
People probably didn’t speak to Mateo Valente that way.
Fortunately, I was exhausted enough to lose survival instincts.
“You’re bleeding through your bandage.”
He looked.
“You’re avoiding my question.”
“So are you.”
For a moment, something shifted between us.
Then Luca entered.
“We found Sarah.”
I stood.
“Is she okay?”
“She’s alive.”
My knees weakened.
“But?”
Luca placed a plastic evidence bag on the desk.
Inside was Sarah’s phone.
“She wasn’t at the motel when we arrived.”
“What?”
“The room had been searched.”
My heart began racing.
“Was there blood?”
“Harper.”
“Was there?”
“No.”
I exhaled.
“Then where is she?”
Luca placed another object down.
A motel receipt.
Someone had written a phone number on it.
Mateo stared.
He recognized it.
“Call.”
Luca dialed on speaker.
A man answered.
“Mateo.”
The voice was smooth.
Almost pleasant.
Mateo’s face changed.
“Vincent.”
Vincent Caruso.
I didn’t need anyone to explain.
“So,” Vincent said, “the blonde survived.”
Mateo’s jaw tightened.
“Where’s Sarah?”
“Interesting. The old Mateo would have asked where my men were.”
“The old Mateo already knows.”
Vincent laughed.
Then:
“Put Harper on.”
Mateo immediately said, “No.”
The voice became amused.
“She’s right there, isn’t she?”
My skin crawled.
“How do you know?”
Mateo shot me a look.
Too late.
Vincent chuckled.
“Hello, Harper.”
I hated hearing my name in his voice.
“What did you do to Sarah?”
“She made choices.”
“So did I.”
Mateo’s eyes snapped toward me.
I continued.
“And mine is that I don’t like you.”
Silence.
Then Vincent laughed genuinely.
“Oh, Mateo.”
His voice turned almost delighted.
“I understand now.”
Mateo said quietly, “Understand what?”
“Why you kept her.”
The call ended.
No explanation.
Nothing.
Luca immediately began tracing it.
I turned toward Mateo.
“What did he mean?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
Mateo stood.
“He was provoking me.”
“Did it work?”
“No.”
Another lie.
Before I could argue, Luca’s phone buzzed.
He read the message.
His face drained.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“We pulled Grant Keller’s financial records.”
Mateo waited.
“Someone has been depositing money into his account for almost four years.”
“Caruso?”
“No.”
Luca turned the screen toward him.
Mateo read the name.
And for the first time since I had met him, Mateo Valente looked genuinely stunned.
I moved closer.
“What?”
He locked the screen.
“Mateo.”
But his silence gave me the answer that mattered.
Whoever had selected me for that hotel room wasn’t simply connected to his enemies.
May you like
They were connected to him.
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