Chapter 5 - The House With No Photographs
My apartment door was unlocked.
I knew immediately I hadn’t left it that way.
Mateo moved in front of me.
“Stay behind me.”
“My apartment.”
“Exactly.”
Luca entered first with two security men.
Thirty seconds later:
“Clear.”
The apartment looked normal.
Almost.
My coffee mug sat beside the sink.
My blanket was on the couch.
My dying basil plant leaned toward the window.
Then I reached my bedroom.
The closet door was open.
I never left it open.
The cardboard box containing my father’s belongings was gone.
“No.”
I dropped to my knees.
“Harper.”
“It was here.”
Mateo crouched beside me.
“A brown moving box. Dad’s name was written on the side.”
“When did you last see it?”
“Maybe three months.”
Luca checked the window.
“No forced entry.”
Mateo looked at me.
“Who has keys?”
“Me.”
“Anyone else?”
“My landlord.”
“Family?”
“My sister used to.”
“Used to?”
“She lost hers.”
Luca asked, “Sarah?”
“No.”
I suddenly remembered.
“Grant.”
Everyone looked at me.
“What?” Mateo asked.
“Last winter my apartment building had a package-theft problem. Hotel employees were selling old security equipment, and Grant gave me a used camera.”
I felt sick.
“He helped install it.”
Mateo stood slowly.
“He was inside.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Twenty minutes.”
Mateo’s expression became terrifyingly calm.
“Luca.”
“I’ll find him.”
We searched the apartment.
The box was gone.
But underneath my bed, caught against the wall, Mateo found one sheet of paper.
A faded photocopy.
Shipping numbers.
Dates.
Truck IDs.
At the bottom, in my father’s handwriting:
D.V. knows. If anything happens, find M.V.
Mateo stared at the initials.
My heart hammered.
“M.V.”
He didn’t answer.
“That’s you.”
“Yes.”
“And D.V.?”
Silence.
I whispered, “Dominic Valente.”
Mateo closed his eyes briefly.
My father had written Mateo’s name before he died.
The thought made my skin crawl.
“Did you know my father?”
“I knew of him.”
“That is not the same answer.”
Mateo looked toward the window.
“When we bought Mercer Freight, your father contacted me.”
My breath stopped.
“You knew him.”
“He requested a private meeting.”
“And?”
“We met once.”
“You never thought to mention this?”
“I didn’t know you were Robert Jenkins’s daughter until today.”
“What did he tell you?”
“He believed someone was using Mercer trucks to transport stolen cargo.”
“Who?”
“He didn’t know.”
“He wrote Dominic knew.”
Mateo’s voice became quieter.
“He never told me that.”
I stood.
“You said trust is expensive. Maybe you trusted the wrong person.”
His eyes snapped toward me.
There it was.
Pain.
Not anger.
Pain.
For the first time, I wondered whether Mateo’s coldness wasn’t because he felt too little.
Maybe he felt too much and had spent years learning how to hide it.
His phone rang.
Luca.
Mateo answered.
“What?”
A pause.
Then his eyes found mine.
“When?”
Another pause.
“We’re coming.”
He hung up.
“What happened?”
“They found Grant.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where?”
“In an abandoned warehouse.”
“Alive?”
Mateo hesitated.
“Yes.”
Relief.
Then:
“But he’s asking for you.”
I laughed nervously.
“Me?”
“He refuses to speak unless Harper Jenkins is present.”
My relief vanished.
Mateo stepped close.
“You don’t have to go.”
I stared at him.
Until now, everybody else had been making decisions for me.
Sarah.
Grant.
The Carusos.
Even Mateo.
“No.”
His brow furrowed.
“I’m going.”
“Harper.”
“If my father died because of this, I need answers.”
Mateo studied me.
Then nodded.
At the warehouse, Grant looked nothing like the confident security supervisor I remembered.
His hands shook.
His face was gray.
When he saw me, tears entered his eyes.
“Harper.”
I stayed beside Mateo.
Grant swallowed.
“I’m sorry.”
“You sent me into that room.”
“I had no choice.”
“You always have a choice.”
He started crying.
“They had my daughter.”
“Who?”
Grant looked at Mateo.
“Not Caruso.”
Mateo went still.
Grant leaned toward me.
“Your father figured it out.”
“Figured what out?”
“The war.”
I frowned.
“What war?”
Grant’s voice dropped.
“The Carusos and Valentes.”
He looked at Mateo.
“It wasn’t supposed to last twelve years.”
Mateo’s face hardened.
Grant continued.
“Someone on your side made sure it did.”
Then a sound came from outside.
A vehicle accelerating.
Mateo grabbed me.
“Down!”
The warehouse lights went black.
And from somewhere in the darkness, Grant screamed one final sentence:
May you like
“DOMINIC STARTED EVERYTHING!”
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