Chapter 14 - Dominic Moretti’s Last Warning
Dominic wanted Sloane found before Emily testified.
Agent Torres wanted the same thing.
They disagreed on how.
Torres believed in surveillance teams, warrants, digital tracing, and patience.
Dominic believed Sloane would contact someone from his old network eventually.
Torres said, “You are not using criminal contacts in an active federal investigation.”
Dominic replied, “Then don’t ask how I know things.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to tell you to stay out of it.”
They argued like people who had known each other much longer than a week.
Rhodes watched with obvious amusement.
Finally Torres said, “One unauthorized move and I remove you from protective access.”
Dominic nodded.
“Understood.”
She left.
I looked at him.
“You’re going to make an unauthorized move.”
“No.”
“You say ‘understood’ differently when you’re lying.”
He stared at me.
“I regret employing you.”
“You still haven’t technically employed me.”
“Then I regret considering it.”
Emily entered.
“What are you planning?”
“Nothing.”
She looked at me.
“He’s planning something.”
“Yes.”
Dominic sighed.
“Why does no one respect privacy?”
“Because you’re terrible at lying.”
That was not true.
He was excellent at lying when he wanted to be.
He simply did not lie well to us anymore.
An hour later, he told us the truth.
“Sloane has a daughter.”
Emily stiffened.
“No.”
“What?”
“We are not involving someone’s child.”
“She’s thirty-one.”
“Oh.”
“Attorney. Lives in Wisconsin.”
Emily crossed her arms.
“And?”
“She cut contact with him five years ago.”
“How do you know?”
“I know.”
I asked, “What are you thinking?”
“Sloane may contact her if he believes he’s going away forever.”
Torres would hate it.
Which meant there was probably something there.
Dominic did not contact the daughter directly.
Rhodes did.
Legally.
Carefully.
Her name was Lauren Sloane.
She agreed to speak with federal agents.
What she gave them changed everything.
Five years earlier, Lauren had discovered a storage unit rented under her father’s name.
Inside were photographs, burner phones, cash, and paper files.
She confronted him.
Victor told her never to ask again.
She cut him out of her life.
The storage unit still existed.
Torres obtained a warrant.
Inside they found enough evidence to connect Sloane to intimidation, surveillance, and multiple financial crimes.
But not Nathan’s death.
Then they found an old phone.
Seven years old.
One message had survived.
From a number linked to Julian Cross.
Bennett accountant leaves 11:40. Make it look ordinary.
Emily read the transcript three times.
Then sat down.
Dominic walked away.
Torres said quietly, “This is what we needed.”
Emily began crying.
Not loudly.
She pressed her hands against her face.
“For seven years I told Sophie her father died because someone fell asleep.”
Torres sat beside her.
“You told her what you knew.”
“He knew they were coming.”
“We don’t know that.”
“Nathan wrote the letter.”
“He suspected danger.”
Emily looked toward Dominic.
He stood at the window.
“This proves you were right.”
He shook his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“I spent seven years wanting proof that I could blame someone else.”
He turned.
“Now I have it.”
“And?”
“It doesn’t make Nathan less dead.”
No one had an answer.
Later that night, Dominic received a call.
He listened without speaking.
Then said, “Where?”
He hung up.
“Sloane contacted someone.”
Torres immediately became alert.
“Who?”
Dominic hesitated.
She pointed at him.
“Don’t.”
“A former employee.”
“Name.”
“Anthony Vale.”
“What did Sloane want?”
“A meeting.”
“Where?”
Dominic looked at Emily.
“Bellamy’s.”
The burned restaurant was closed, boarded, and under investigation.
“Why there?” I asked.
“Because he thinks something is still hidden.”
Emily understood.
“Nathan’s ledger.”
Dominic nodded.
“Sloane apparently believes the original notebook was never recovered.”
“It was.”
“He doesn’t know that.”
Torres immediately began planning surveillance.
Dominic interrupted.
“He wants me.”
“What?”
“Sloane specifically asked Vale to tell me he’ll exchange information about Cross for Nathan’s ledger.”
Torres laughed.
“He’s desperate.”
“He’s dangerous.”
“You’re not going.”
“He won’t show otherwise.”
Torres stared at him.
“No.”
Dominic smiled slightly.
“Now you know how I felt with Claire.”
I said, “This is karma.”
Nobody appreciated that.
Eventually Torres approved a controlled meeting.
Bellamy’s.
Midnight.
Dominic wired.
Agents positioned nearby.
I wanted to go.
Everyone said no.
Emily wanted to go.
Everyone said absolutely not.
At 11:52 p.m., Dominic entered the dark restaurant alone.
We watched through a video feed.
The chandeliers were off.
Smoke damage stained the rear wall.
Table Eleven remained untouched beneath a protective sheet.
At midnight, Sloane appeared from the kitchen corridor.
Gray coat.
Same calm expression.
“You came,” he said.
Dominic stood near Table Eleven.
“You asked.”
“You have Nathan’s book?”
“Yes.”
It was a decoy.
Sloane smiled.
“Still cleaning up other men’s mistakes?”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“Tell me about Cross.”
“He ordered Nathan’s death.”
“We know.”
Sloane’s smile vanished.
“What?”
“You kept records.”
For the first time, genuine panic crossed his face.
“Lauren.”
Dominic said nothing.
Sloane looked toward the windows.
He understood.
“This is a setup.”
Dominic remained still.
“It can be an arrest or a conversation. Your choice.”
Sloane laughed.
“You think Cross is afraid of prison?”
“He should be.”
“No.”
Sloane stepped closer.
“He’s afraid of what Bennett told federal agents.”
“What?”
“That Cross wasn’t the seventh man.”
Dominic froze.
Back at the monitor, Torres leaned forward.
Sloane continued.
“Julian Cross was number six.”
Dominic’s voice lowered.
“Nathan said seven names.”
“He lied to you about one.”
“Why?”
“To protect you.”
Dominic stared.
Sloane smiled.
“The seventh man was someone you trusted.”
“Who?”
Before Sloane could answer, the restaurant lights went out.
The video feed died.
Torres shouted, “Move!”
Agents stormed Bellamy’s.
I watched a black screen.
Gunshots did not follow.
Thank God.
Instead, we heard shouting.
Glass breaking.
Then Torres’s voice over radio.
“Sloane is gone.”
Emily whispered, “And Dominic?”
Static.
Then:
“Moretti’s alive.”
I exhaled.
Minutes later the feed returned.
Dominic stood beside shattered glass.
On Table Eleven lay an envelope Sloane had dropped.
Inside was a photograph.
Dominic looked at it and went pale.
When he returned to the safe house, he handed it to Emily.
The photograph showed Nathan standing beside Dominic.
And between them stood Daniel Rhodes.
The retired prosecutor.
Our trusted adviser.
On the back were seven words:
May you like
Ask Rhodes what Nathan gave him first.
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