Chapter 4 - The House Nobody Knew About
The first thing Aleandro did was not reach for a weapon.
He reached for Claire.
Not roughly.
He caught her wrist and guided her away from the window.
"Downstairs."
"Sophie—"
"Luca has her."
"I am not leaving without—"
"Neither am I."
Max barked once in the living room.
Then silence.
Aleandro opened the kitchen door.
Emergency lights along the staircase had activated, throwing a faint red glow through the hallway.
Luca appeared with Sophie behind him.
Giovanni was already near the front room.
"Power's out on the block?" Aleandro asked.
"No," Luca replied. "Only us."
Sophie looked frightened.
Claire immediately crouched.
"Baby, come here."
Sophie ran into her arms.
"Are the bad people here?"
Claire couldn't answer.
Aleandro did.
"We don't know who's outside."
Sophie looked at him.
"But you'll find out?"
"Yes."
There was that promise again without the word.
Luca opened a concealed door beneath the stairs.
Claire stared.
"You've got to be kidding."
"Old house," Luca said.
"Old houses don't normally have reinforced panic rooms."
"This one had modifications."
"Of course it did."
The downstairs room was larger than Claire expected.
Independent power.
Two monitors.
First-aid supplies.
Water.
A second exit that apparently connected to the neighboring building.
Aleandro waited until Claire, Sophie, and Max were inside.
Then he turned away.
Claire grabbed his sleeve.
"Where are you going?"
"Upstairs."
"Why?"
"Because that's my front door."
"That's your reason?"
"It usually works."
She tightened her grip.
"For once in your life, try having a less insane reason."
Aleandro looked down at her hand.
Claire released him.
Sophie spoke.
"Mr. Aleandro?"
He crouched.
"Yes?"
"Don't get hurt."
Something flickered in his eyes.
"I'll try not to."
"You promised me you get people out."
Aleandro glanced at Claire.
Sophie continued.
"You have to get yourself out too."
Luca looked away.
Aleandro nodded solemnly.
"Fair condition."
He closed the reinforced door.
Claire stared at the monitor.
Three figures were visible outside.
One remained near a dark SUV.
Two approached the steps.
Giovanni stood inside the foyer where they couldn't see him.
Luca joined Aleandro near the staircase.
"How did they find this place?"
"That's the more important question."
"Matteo?"
"We don't know."
"We've got maybe four people who know the address."
"Five."
Luca's eyes narrowed.
"You."
"Yes."
"Me."
"Yes."
"Giovanni."
"Yes."
"Matteo."
Aleandro nodded.
"And?"
"My sister."
Luca frowned.
"Isabella hasn't been in New York for six months."
"Then probably not Isabella."
The front buzzer sounded.
Aleandro almost smiled.
"Polite."
Luca didn't.
The buzzer sounded again.
Giovanni looked back.
"Want me to answer?"
"Yes."
Giovanni opened the interior cover while keeping the reinforced outer door locked.
A man's voice came through.
"Delivery."
Giovanni glanced toward Aleandro.
"At eight at night?"
"Food."
"We didn't order anything."
"Address says paid delivery."
Aleandro motioned.
"Ask the restaurant."
Giovanni did.
The man named a small Italian place six blocks away.
Luca checked his phone.
His eyebrows lifted.
"It's real."
"What?"
"Order was placed forty minutes ago."
"By who?"
"Account name..."
Luca looked at Aleandro.
"Isabella Moretti."
Aleandro's expression hardened.
He took out his phone and called his sister.
She answered on the fourth ring from Rome.
"If you're calling because Mother complained about me skipping dinner—"
"Did you order food to Brooklyn?"
Silence.
"What?"
"Did you order food to Mother's old house?"
"No."
Aleandro's eyes closed briefly.
"Are you safe?"
"Yes. Why?"
"Stay where you are. Luca will call you."
He ended the call.
The delivery was a test.
Whoever had ordered it wanted to know whether anybody was inside.
"Send him away," Aleandro said.
Giovanni told the courier the order was fraudulent.
The man argued.
Then finally left the steps.
The SUV remained.
"One person still inside," Luca said.
Aleandro watched the screen.
Minutes passed.
Then the SUV drove away.
No attack.
No broken door.
No gunfire.
Nothing.
Which made Aleandro more concerned.
"They weren't here to enter," he said.
Luca nodded.
"They wanted confirmation."
"Now they have it."
When Claire was allowed upstairs, she was furious.
"Someone used your sister's name?"
"Yes."
"Meaning whoever did this knows your family."
"Yes."
"And we're staying here?"
"No."
The answer surprised her.
"Where are we going?"
Aleandro looked at Luca.
"Nowhere connected to me."
"Such as?"
Claire asked.
Aleandro's eyes moved toward her.
"You choose."
"I choose?"
"You said you wanted control. Choose somewhere secure, and we'll make it secure."
Claire studied him.
It was the first time since the accident that someone had offered her something other than protection.
Choice.
Her parents were impossible.
A friend's apartment was unfair.
Then she thought of a place Ethan had loved.
"My husband's cabin."
"Where?"
"Upstate. Near Phoenicia."
"Who knows about it?"
"My family. A few friends."
"Anyone from your work?"
"No."
"Anyone connected to Ethan's investigation?"
"I don't think so."
Aleandro looked at Luca.
"Prepare two cars."
Claire frowned.
"You're coming?"
"Until I understand who's doing this."
"That was not part of the agreement."
"The agreement changed when somebody found a house nobody should have found."
Sophie tugged Claire's sleeve.
"Can Max come?"
Claire looked at Max's bandaged feet.
"If the vet says yes."
Aleandro walked toward the stairs.
"Giovanni."
"Boss."
"Take Max for another examination. Bring whatever he needs."
Sophie smiled.
"Thank you."
Aleandro stopped.
"You're welcome."
Claire watched him leave.
He was still dangerous.
That hadn't changed.
But danger, she was beginning to realize, wasn't always the same thing as threat.
Sometimes danger stood between you and something worse.
They left Brooklyn shortly before midnight.
Sophie slept against Claire's shoulder.
Max lay carefully across the floor of the SUV.
Aleandro rode in the front passenger seat.
Luca drove.
The farther they traveled from New York City, the quieter everything became.
Claire watched Aleandro's reflection in the glass.
"Why was the house your mother's?"
He looked back.
"What?"
"The photograph. The books. It didn't feel like a safe house."
"It wasn't."
"What happened?"
"My mother wanted one place where nobody discussed business."
"Did that work?"
"For about three weeks."
Claire smiled faintly.
Aleandro turned toward the road.
"After my father died, she moved to Italy. I kept the house."
"Why?"
He didn't answer immediately.
"Because it reminded me there was a time when people entered a room without being afraid of me."
Claire's smile disappeared.
That was more honest than she expected.
"What happened to you?"
Aleandro glanced back.
"You ask very direct questions."
"Occupational hazard."
"Nothing happened to me."
"I don't believe that."
"I made choices."
"That's worse."
"Usually."
Silence filled the SUV.
Then Sophie stirred.
Half awake, she murmured, "Mom?"
"I'm here."
"Is Mr. Aleandro here?"
Claire looked forward.
"Yes."
Sophie relaxed.
"Okay."
Within seconds she was asleep again.
Aleandro stared through the windshield.
Claire saw his jaw tighten.
Neither spoke about it.
They arrived at the cabin near three in the morning.
Luca checked every room.
Giovanni secured the outside.
Claire carried Sophie's bag while Aleandro lifted the sleeping girl from the SUV.
"I can take her."
"I know."
He carried Sophie inside anyway.
She rested her cheek against his shoulder as though she'd known him for years.
Claire showed him the bedroom.
Aleandro carefully placed Sophie beneath the blankets.
Max settled beside the bed.
Claire stood in the doorway.
For several seconds, she and Aleandro watched the child sleep.
"This is dangerous," Claire whispered.
"I know."
"I don't mean the people following us."
Aleandro looked at her.
Claire shook her head.
"Never mind."
She left.
At sunrise, Luca's phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
Then walked outside where Aleandro stood drinking coffee.
"We pulled the brownstone camera logs."
"And?"
"The SUV's plates were stolen."
"Expected."
"But one of the men made a mistake."
Luca showed him a still image.
A profile.
Half hidden.
Aleandro recognized the man immediately.
He had seen him dozens of times.
At meetings.
At warehouses.
At Il Corvano.
"That's impossible," Aleandro said.
"No."
Luca lowered the phone.
"It's just unpleasant."
The man outside the brownstone worked for Matteo Rinaldi.
Not years ago.
Not indirectly.
He was on Matteo's current payroll.
Aleandro stared at the mountains beyond the cabin.
If Matteo had found the house, then Claire's evidence was real.
But one question remained.
Why would the man Aleandro had trusted for twelve years kill Ethan Bennett?
And why was he willing to kill a mother and seven-year-old girl to keep the answer hidden?
Luca handed Aleandro another document.
"We also found the first transfer from Northline."
Aleandro read the amount.
Then the authorization.
His blood went cold.
The transfer carried Aleandro's own electronic approval.
An approval he had never given.
Someone had not merely committed crimes beneath his name.
They had been building evidence to make it look like Aleandro himself ordered them.
And somewhere in New York, Matteo Rinaldi already knew that Aleandro had begun asking questions.
May you like
The next move would not be against Claire. It would be against Aleandro himself.
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