Chapter 3 - The Threat on Her Phone
Claire didn't sleep.
Every time Sophie moved in the reclining chair beside her bed, Claire looked at the door.
Every shoe that passed in the hallway made her pulse jump.
At 3:17 a.m., she finally called hospital security.
She showed them the messages.
They contacted the police.
Two officers arrived.
Claire told them about the black SUV.
She told them the brakes had failed.
She did not tell them about the missing flash drive.
She had learned something during the six weeks since opening Ethan's old files.
Information was only useful when you knew who could safely receive it.
At the moment, Claire trusted almost nobody.
At 4:02, Sophie woke.
"Is Mr. Aleandro coming back?"
Claire stared at her.
"Why would you ask that?"
"He said Max is okay."
"We can call the vet ourselves."
Sophie rubbed her eyes.
"He keeps promises."
Claire felt an ache in her chest.
"You've known him for six hours."
"He went down the hill."
"So did firefighters."
"But they had helmets."
Despite everything, Claire smiled.
"He didn't."
"No."
Sophie considered that.
"That was kind of silly."
"Very."
"But brave."
Claire had no answer.
At 5:30, somebody knocked.
Claire's entire body went rigid.
The door opened.
Luca Bianco entered alone.
Claire reached for her phone.
"Relax."
"Men who say that are usually the reason women shouldn't."
Luca almost smiled.
"Aleandro sent me."
"That doesn't improve things."
He placed a folder on the table.
"You were right."
Claire looked at it.
"Ethan's inspection."
"Part of it."
She didn't touch the folder.
"Where is Aleandro?"
"Handling something."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you don't actually want the details."
"I very much want details when they involve my dead husband."
Luca's humor disappeared.
"Then read."
Claire opened the folder.
Northline Industrial.
Pier Thirty-Eight.
Equipment inspection.
Incident report.
She turned pages.
Her breathing changed.
The official investigation had blamed a snapped cable and inadequate lighting.
She knew that.
She had memorized it.
But attached was a document she had never seen.
A maintenance warning.
Dated nine days before Ethan died.
CRITICAL FAILURE RISK. EQUIPMENT MUST REMAIN OUT OF SERVICE.
Claire looked up.
"This wasn't in the police file."
"We know."
"Who received it?"
Luca pointed.
Northline's operations manager.
Moretti Maritime's compliance office.
And—
Claire stopped.
Matteo Rinaldi.
"Who is he?"
Luca didn't immediately answer.
"Mr. Bianco."
"Aleandro's attorney."
Her face drained.
"How close?"
"Close."
"How close?"
"Close enough that Aleandro wants proof before he says anything else."
Claire closed the folder.
"I need Sophie out of this hospital."
"We agree."
"We?"
"Aleandro."
"I don't care what Aleandro agrees with."
"You should right now."
She glared at him.
Luca's voice softened.
"Mrs. Bennett—"
"Ms."
"Claire. Somebody got access to your car. Somebody followed you. Somebody knows you're alive. If the person responsible is connected to our organization, normal security isn't enough."
"Your organization is the reason I'm in danger."
"Maybe."
The admission surprised her.
"We're not asking you to pretend otherwise."
Claire folded her arms.
"Where would you take us?"
"A property nobody connects to you."
"Connected to Aleandro?"
"Yes."
"So everyone in his world knows it."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because Aleandro bought it under his mother's maiden name fourteen years ago and almost never uses it."
That detail caught her.
"Why does he own a secret house?"
Luca looked toward Sophie.
"Everyone needs somewhere the world doesn't know to look."
Claire understood the answer contained more than he intended to explain.
She looked at her daughter.
Sophie was watching cartoons with the volume low.
Claire hated every option.
Police protection was not guaranteed.
A hotel could be traced.
Her apartment was impossible.
Family?
Her parents lived in Arizona.
Her sister had three children.
Claire wouldn't bring danger to any of them.
"One night," she said.
Luca nodded.
"One."
"And I get my own transportation."
"Fine."
"No armed men in Sophie's room."
"Fine."
"No one searches our things."
"Fine."
"If I decide to leave, we leave."
Luca hesitated.
Claire raised an eyebrow.
"Fine."
She looked at him.
"That sounded painful."
"It was."
By noon, doctors cleared both Claire and Sophie.
The police had arranged to examine Claire's car.
Before they left, Giovanni arrived with Max.
The German Shepherd wore protective bandages on all four paws.
Sophie screamed his name.
Max nearly pulled Giovanni forward trying to reach her.
Sophie dropped to her knees.
"Max!"
The dog pressed his face against her chest.
Claire turned away as tears filled her eyes.
She remembered Ethan bringing home the six-month-old German Shepherd against her wishes.
"We don't need a dog," she'd said.
"Everyone needs a dog."
"We live in a townhouse."
"He'll adjust."
"You don't even know if he's housebroken."
Ethan had smiled.
"Then we'll both adjust."
Max had been beside Sophie through Ethan's funeral.
Through nightmares.
Through Claire's long evenings working at the kitchen table.
Now he had run through blood and darkness to save them.
"Thank you," Claire whispered to Giovanni.
He nodded.
"He's stubborn."
"Like his owner was."
"Your husband?"
Claire swallowed.
"Yes."
Aleandro's safe property turned out not to be what Claire expected.
No fortress.
No mansion.
It was a quiet three-story brownstone on a tree-lined street in Brooklyn Heights.
Old brick.
Narrow windows.
A tiny private courtyard.
Inside, everything was clean, understated, almost painfully normal.
Sophie walked through the living room.
"Does Mr. Aleandro live here?"
"No," Luca said.
"Why not?"
"Good question."
Claire looked around.
There were books.
An old record player.
A framed photograph on one shelf.
A woman with dark hair standing beside a teenage Aleandro.
His mother, Claire guessed.
This wasn't a safe house.
Not originally.
It had been a home.
Aleandro arrived near sunset.
He walked into the living room and stopped when he saw Sophie sitting on the rug beside Max.
Something softened in his face.
Claire noticed.
She wished she hadn't.
"How do you feel?"
he asked her.
"Like I drove off a cliff."
"You went down a ravine."
"Thank you for the technical correction."
His mouth almost moved.
Almost.
"I found your car."
Claire immediately straightened.
"The police have it."
"They do now."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I saw it first."
Anger replaced exhaustion.
"You interfered with evidence?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"I photographed what was visible."
"You had no right."
"Your rear brake line was cut."
Claire stopped.
Aleandro held her gaze.
"Clean cut. Not impact damage."
Sophie was still within earshot.
Claire motioned toward the kitchen.
Aleandro followed.
"What else?"
she asked quietly.
"Something had been removed from beneath the passenger seat."
Claire's heart lurched.
"How do you know?"
"The carpet had been pulled."
She turned away.
"What was there?"
"Nothing."
"Claire."
"Nothing."
Aleandro stepped closer, not threatening, simply refusing to let the lie pass.
"Somebody tried to kill you for nothing?"
She crossed her arms.
"Maybe they dislike accountants."
"What did you find?"
"I don't trust you."
"Reasonable."
That stopped her.
No offense.
No anger.
Just agreement.
Aleandro continued.
"But somebody inside a company carrying my name may have helped kill your husband."
Claire's eyes flashed.
"May have?"
"I'm not going to tell you something is true because it would make you trust me."
She studied him.
"You really don't know."
"No."
"And if you find out someone close to you did it?"
His expression changed.
"Then they'll discover closeness doesn't protect them."
Claire believed him.
That frightened her more than reassurance would have.
She went to the kitchen window.
"There was a flash drive."
Aleandro waited.
"I had it in my purse."
"What was on it?"
"Financial records."
"Whose?"
"Several companies. One is Northline."
"Others?"
"Harbor Crown Holdings. East Bell Freight. Meridian Export Group."
Aleandro knew two immediately.
Shell companies.
Not his.
But companies that had received payments from businesses he controlled.
"What else?"
Claire looked at him.
"A copy of the warning Ethan filed about the crane."
"We have that now."
"No."
She shook her head.
"You have the maintenance warning."
"What did Ethan file?"
"A second report."
Aleandro became still.
"He wrote that he believed somebody was moving unregistered containers through Pier Thirty-Eight after midnight."
"What's inside them?"
"I don't know."
"Who did he name?"
Claire whispered the answer.
"Matteo Rinaldi."
Aleandro's face revealed nothing.
But the room seemed colder.
Claire reached into her pocket.
"I lied."
She placed a tiny silver object on the counter.
A flash drive.
Aleandro stared at it.
"The missing drive?"
"No."
Claire looked toward the living room where Sophie sat safely with Max.
"The missing one was a decoy."
For the first time since she had met him, Aleandro Moretti looked genuinely surprised.
Claire placed her fingers over the drive.
"This is the real one."
Before Aleandro could respond, every light in the brownstone went out.
Max rose instantly.
A low growl came from the living room.
Luca's voice sounded from the hallway.
"Nobody move."
Outside, a car door closed.
Then another.
And through the dark kitchen window, Claire saw three men approaching the house.
Somebody had found them.
May you like
And whoever was coming knew exactly which secret home Aleandro had chosen.
---
