Chapter 9 - The Photograph in the Glove Box
The old Midwest Continental Bank building no longer looked like a bank.
The marble columns remained.
So did the carved stone name over the entrance.
But the lobby had been transformed into luxury offices.
A coffee bar occupied the spot where tellers once stood.
Matteo stopped outside.
“This building is owned by Whitmore Urban.”
Riley looked up.
“Of course it is.”
“We could involve police.”
“With a photocopied invoice and a tunnel?”
“And threats.”
“From numbers we can’t prove belong to anyone.”
Matteo hated that answer.
Riley could tell.
She was beginning to recognize the small movements that revealed what his face tried to hide.
His jaw tightened when frustrated.
His left thumb rubbed against the edge of his watch when worried.
He became quieter when angry.
“You don’t like situations you can’t control,” Riley said.
“No.”
“Good.”
“How is that good?”
“Builds character.”
“I have enough character.”
“Debatable.”
They entered.
A receptionist looked at Matteo and immediately stood.
“Mr. Duca.”
“I need access to basement records.”
She hesitated.
“That floor is closed.”
“For what reason?”
“Flood remediation.”
Riley looked around.
“No contractors.”
The receptionist swallowed.
“I only know what building management says.”
“Who manages it?”
She clicked her computer.
“Whitmore Facilities.”
Naturally.
Matteo asked, “Is Daniel here?”
“No.”
“Who is?”
Before she answered, an elevator opened.
Thomas Bell stepped out.
Riley stared.
Matteo’s expression hardened.
“What are you doing here?”
Thomas looked equally surprised.
“Looking for you.”
“You found us.”
Thomas approached.
“I went through Salvatore’s estate files.”
“And?”
“I found a vehicle registration.”
Riley frowned.
“For what?”
“A 1996 Mercedes.”
Matteo nodded slowly.
“My father’s.”
“It was sold after he died.”
Thomas handed him a document.
“The buyer was a collector in Wisconsin.”
Riley asked, “Why does that matter?”
Thomas looked at her.
“Because Salvatore had a habit of hiding documents in cars.”
Matteo stared.
“What?”
“Your father didn’t trust office safes.”
“Apparently nobody in our families trusted normal storage.”
Thomas ignored Riley’s comment.
“The Mercedes was his personal car during the Whitmore investigation.”
Matteo looked at the registration.
“Where is it now?”
Thomas gave him an address.
Two hours north.
Riley immediately turned toward the entrance.
Matteo followed.
Thomas called after them.
“What about the basement?”
Riley held up the invoice.
“It’s been there twenty-five years.”
“And the car?”
“Can move.”
The collector lived outside Lake Geneva.
His name was Arthur Greene.
He was eighty-one.
When Matteo explained who he was, Greene smiled.
“I wondered whether a Duca would come looking one day.”
Matteo stopped.
“You knew my father?”
“No.”
“But?”
Greene pointed toward a covered vehicle inside his garage.
“Your father left a note.”
Riley and Matteo exchanged a glance.
Greene removed the cover.
The Mercedes looked almost new.
Matteo stood silently beside it.
Riley understood.
This was not just evidence.
It was a piece of his father.
“Take your time,” she said.
Matteo opened the driver’s door.
The interior smelled of old leather.
He sat behind the wheel.
For the first time since Riley had met him, Matteo looked vulnerable.
“My father taught me to drive in this.”
Riley leaned against the door.
“How old?”
“Fourteen.”
“That seems illegal.”
“It was.”
“Good. I was worried the Duca family reputation was exaggerated.”
He smiled faintly.
Then he opened the glove box.
Manual.
Service records.
A pair of sunglasses.
No evidence.
Riley examined the compartment.
“Take it out.”
“What?”
“The whole box.”
Matteo looked at her.
“Why?”
“My mother liked hidden panels.”
Together they removed the glove compartment.
Behind it was a taped envelope.
Matteo stopped.
His hands did not move.
Riley touched his shoulder.
“You open it.”
Inside was a photograph.
Salvatore.
Ellen.
Patrick.
Thomas.
And Victor.
All five standing in the Morgan Towing office.
On the back:
THE FIVE WHO KNOW.
Underneath was a small cassette tape.
Thomas, who had followed in another car, stared when Matteo held it up.
“I didn’t know that existed.”
Greene produced an old tape player.
Matteo inserted the cassette.
Static.
Then Salvatore Duca’s voice filled the garage.
“If you are hearing this, I failed.”
Matteo closed his eyes.
The recording continued.
“Richard Whitmore has partners inside Midwest Continental and inside my company. Ellen Morgan possesses the original transportation records. Patrick knows enough to verify them. Thomas has copies of the financial ledgers.”
A pause.
“The fifth person is my brother, Victor.”
Riley looked at Matteo.
His expression was frozen.
Salvatore continued.
“I trusted Victor.”
More static.
“I was wrong.”
Matteo sat heavily.
The recording continued.
“Victor told Whitmore where Ellen stored the first evidence package. He believes I do not know. I am leaving this recording because if I confront him directly, he will destroy what remains.”
Thomas whispered, “My God.”
Salvatore’s voice grew quieter.
“The original bank archive contains proof of fraudulent loans, bribery, forged deeds, and illegal acquisitions. If those records surface, Whitmore loses everything built from those transactions.”
Then came the line that changed the case.
“The archive was never destroyed.”
Riley leaned closer.
“It was moved through the service tunnel beneath Morgan Towing.”
Matteo looked at her.
Salvatore continued.
“Ellen and I sealed the final records inside the old records vault at the east end of B2. We changed the lock.”
Riley held up the key from her mother’s truck.
Matteo understood.
Box 314 had been a diversion.
The key was not for the safe-deposit box.
Or not only for it.
It might open the archive vault.
Salvatore’s voice continued.
“If Victor finds this recording, he will know where to look. If Matteo finds it…”
The recording paused.
Matteo leaned forward.
His father’s voice softened.
“Son, I hope you grew into a better man than I was.”
Matteo stared at the player.
Riley looked away.
“I built our name by making people fear disappointing me. That was my mistake. Fear is not loyalty.”
Matteo swallowed.
“If you inherit anything from me, let it not be that.”
Static crackled.
Then the final message.
“Trust the Morgans.”
The tape ended.
Nobody spoke.
Matteo removed the cassette.
His hands shook slightly.
Riley reached for him.
She did not think.
She simply put her hand over his.
Matteo looked at her.
For several seconds, they remained that way.
Thomas stepped back, giving them space.
Matteo whispered, “Twenty years.”
“I know.”
“He knew Victor betrayed him.”
“Yes.”
“And he still died two days later.”
Riley tightened her fingers around his.
“Then we finish it.”
His eyes met hers.
“We?”
“Yes.”
“You could walk away.”
“Stop asking.”
“I’m not asking.”
“Good.”
A faint smile appeared.
Then Greene spoke.
“There’s something else.”
They turned.
He held up a small envelope that had fallen from behind the glove compartment.
Inside was another photograph.
A car wreck.
Matteo’s father’s car.
Taken before police arrived.
Riley studied it.
Something was circled on the rear tire.
A brake line.
Cut.
Matteo went pale.
Thomas gripped the workbench.
Salvatore Duca’s death had never been an accident.
And in the corner of the photograph, reflected in a nearby store window, stood a man watching the wreck.
Victor Duca.
Matteo stared at his uncle’s face.
Then his phone rang.
Victor.
Matteo answered.
Neither man spoke initially.
Finally Victor said:
“You found the Mercedes.”
Matteo’s face became cold.
“How?”
Victor laughed softly.
“Because your father always believed he was cleverer than everyone else.”
“You cut his brake line.”
Riley held her breath.
A pause.
Then Victor said, “Be careful what you accuse family of.”
“You stopped being family twenty years ago.”
Victor’s voice changed.
“You have no idea what Salvatore was about to destroy.”
“Then tell me.”
“No.”
“Afraid?”
“Of you?”
Victor laughed.
“No.”
“Of Riley Morgan?”
Silence.
That was the answer.
Victor finally said, “She should have taken the money.”
Riley stepped close enough to speak.
“I’m still here, Victor.”
He went quiet.
Riley continued.
“And the answer is still no.”
Victor disconnected.
Matteo looked at her.
Riley smiled tightly.
“Apparently your family does enjoy that word.”
For the first time since hearing his dead father’s voice, Matteo laughed.
But the moment did not last.
Thomas stared at the key in Riley’s palm.
“If Salvatore was telling the truth, that key opens the vault.”
Riley closed her fingers around it.
“Then tomorrow we open it.”
Matteo looked at her.
“No.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“No?”
“We open it tonight.”
And back in Chicago, Victor Duca had already dispatched two men toward Morgan Towing.
Because after twenty years, everyone finally knew where the evidence was.
May you like
The only question was who would reach it first.
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