Chapter 4 - The Woman Who Knew Santino
Dominic did not reach for a weapon.
That mattered.
Landon had seen guilty men react in many ways.
Some shouted.
Some ran.
Some attacked before anyone accused them.
Dominic simply stared at the photograph and said, “I wasn’t there.”
Serena folded her arms.
“You expect us to believe someone created a perfect photograph of you four years ago?”
“I expect Landon to remember where I was four years ago.”
Landon did.
Or thought he did.
“You were working for my father.”
“Yes.”
“Mostly New York.”
“Entirely New York that summer.”
Serena looked skeptical.
“Can you prove it?”
Dominic turned toward her.
“I was recovering from surgery.”
Landon remembered that too.
A knife wound during an attempted robbery outside one of the Moretti restaurants.
Dominic had spent nearly a month unable to travel.
Landon himself had visited him.
“When was the photograph taken?” Landon asked.
Serena checked the date printed on the back.
“July eighteenth.”
Dominic unbuttoned the cuff of his shirt and rolled his sleeve.
A long pale scar crossed his forearm.
“Surgery July twelfth.”
Serena looked at Landon.
He nodded.
“I saw him six days later.”
She picked up the photograph.
“Then who is this?”
Nobody answered.
They enlarged the image digitally.
At first glance, it was Dominic.
At second glance, something felt wrong.
The man’s shoulders were slightly narrower.
The scar near the eyebrow seemed darker.
Serena touched the screen.
“Santino never said Dominic’s name when he sent this.”
“What did he say?” Landon asked.
“He wrote: One of these faces isn’t what it seems.”
Dominic stared.
“That’s comforting.”
Landon looked at the fourth man.
“Who is the attorney?”
“Matteo Rinaldi.”
Landon knew him well.
Everyone in the Moretti organization did.
Matteo had served the family for nearly twenty years.
He had negotiated contracts for Landon’s father.
Handled acquisitions.
Settled lawsuits.
Helped transition the family’s businesses after the older generation stepped away.
Matteo had also delivered the eulogy at Santino’s funeral.
“He was in Sicily?” Landon asked.
Serena nodded.
“According to Santino.”
“Why?”
“Officially, he was negotiating a hospitality investment.”
“That sounds normal.”
“Santino didn’t think so.”
“Why?”
“Because the hotel company involved owned warehouses near three ports connected to the false manifests.”
Landon felt the first pieces move into place.
Not enough for a picture.
Enough to make him uneasy.
He picked up one of the documents.
Invoices.
Consulting fees.
Holding companies.
Numbers routed through Malta, Cyprus, Switzerland.
Nothing criminal by itself.
But Landon recognized patterns.
Money designed to disappear.
“Why didn’t you turn this over to authorities?”
Serena laughed once.
Not with humor.
“I did.”
Landon looked at her.
“What?”
“The first time I found evidence, I went to an investigator in Palermo.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
Dominic frowned.
“Disappeared?”
“His wife reported him missing three days later.”
“Did they find him?”
“No.”
“And you kept investigating?”
“I tried to stop.”
“But Santino?”
“He wouldn’t.”
Serena’s expression softened.
“He said if someone was using his family’s companies to hurt people, walking away made him responsible.”
That sounded exactly like Santino.
Too idealistic.
Too stubborn.
Too certain morality could survive contact with power.
Landon had loved him for it.
And sometimes resented him for it.
“Tell me about the night he died,” Landon said.
Serena’s eyes dropped.
“I wasn’t in New York.”
“You supposedly died in Sicily.”
“I was in France.”
“Why?”
“Santino sent me there.”
“For what?”
“To meet someone.”
“Who?”
“A banker.”
“What banker?”
“His name was Étienne Rousseau. He managed private accounts connected to one of the companies in these records.”
“What did he give you?”
“A password.”
“For?”
Serena looked at the encrypted drive.
“That.”
Landon’s patience thinned.
“You had two years.”
“To do what?”
“Open it.”
“I tried.”
“And?”
“It has multiple layers.”
“Then hire someone.”
“I did.”
“What happened?”
“The first man told me the drive contained a dead-man protocol.”
Dominic frowned.
“Meaning?”
“If someone enters the wrong sequence too many times, portions erase.”
Landon looked at Serena.
“So you stopped.”
“Yes.”
“Why not contact me?”
“Because Santino specifically told me not to.”
Landon’s temper rose.
“My brother is dead because everyone decided I shouldn’t know anything.”
Serena stood.
“No. Your brother is dead because someone decided he knew too much.”
The words silenced the room.
She continued.
“And maybe he kept things from you because he loved you.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense if the person he suspected had access to your office, your schedule, your accounts, and your security.”
Landon looked toward Dominic.
Dominic did not react.
Serena noticed.
“I’m not accusing him.”
“You were five minutes ago.”
“I’m saying Santino didn’t know who he could trust.”
Landon touched the photograph.
“How did he contact you after his death?”
“He didn’t.”
“The one-dollar transfer.”
Her expression changed.
“You found that?”
“Yes.”
“It was automated.”
“You knew about the message?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you follow it?”
“I did.”
Landon frowned.
“He said if I came, don’t run.”
Serena looked at him.
“You didn’t come.”
“I didn’t know you existed.”
“I know.”
“So what was the point?”
“The message wasn’t for me.”
Landon stared.
“What?”
“It was for whoever found the account.”
Serena walked toward the window.
“Santino believed eventually you would discover something was wrong. He wanted me to know that if you personally came looking, I was allowed to trust you.”
“Allowed?”
“He worried you might send someone else.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
Again.
The infuriating answer.
But this time Landon understood its weight.
Santino had built layers.
Distance.
Silence.
Separate pieces.
No one person knew enough to expose everything.
Maybe that was how he had protected them.
Maybe that was how he had died alone.
Landon sat.
For several minutes, the three of them examined documents.
There were thirteen companies.
Seven ports.
Four banks.
Payments extending nearly six years.
Dominic marked names he recognized.
Matteo Rinaldi appeared repeatedly.
Not directly.
Never directly.
But his law firm represented companies that represented other companies.
A web.
At two in the morning, Serena found something.
“This.”
A handwritten note in Santino’s file.
Landon moved closer.
Three letters.
L.M.R.
Beneath them:
ASK ABOUT BLUE SHUTTERS.
Landon frowned.
“L.M.R.?”
Dominic said, “Could be initials.”
Serena looked toward him.
“Landon Moretti?”
“R doesn’t fit.”
“Unless it isn’t a person.”
Landon read the second line.
“Blue shutters.”
Serena became still.
“What?”
She looked at him.
“There was a house.”
“In Sicily?”
“Yes.”
“The fishing house?”
“No.”
She returned to the table.
“Santino rented a house outside Cefalù when he was investigating. Small place near the cliffs.”
“What color were the shutters?”
“Blue.”
Landon looked at the note again.
“Then why write ‘ask about blue shutters’?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who owned it?”
Serena hesitated.
“I never asked.”
Dominic had already begun searching.
Thirty seconds later, his expression changed.
“What?”
He rotated the laptop.
Property records appeared.
The house belonged to a company called LMR Holdings.
Landon stared.
“LMR.”
Dominic nodded.
“Registered in Delaware.”
“Owner?”
“Hidden.”
“Attorney?”
Dominic scrolled.
Nobody spoke.
The registered legal representative appeared at the bottom.
Rinaldi & Pierce LLP.
Matteo’s firm.
Serena leaned toward the screen.
“Santino rented a house owned through Matteo’s network?”
“Maybe.”
Landon’s phone rang.
Isabella.
He answered.
Her voice came immediately.
“Is Serena with you?”
Landon looked at her.
“Yes.”
“You need to come home.”
“What happened?”
“Leo woke up.”
“So?”
“He’s asking for Serena.”
“I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
“No.”
Something in Isabella’s voice stopped him.
“What?”
“He remembered something.”
Landon straightened.
“What did he remember?”
“The song.”
Serena turned toward him.
Isabella continued.
“Leo says there’s another verse.”
Landon’s pulse quickened.
“He’s four.”
“I know.”
“Santino died when he was two.”
“I know.”
“Then how?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
Isabella hesitated.
Then repeated her son’s words.
“When the sea turns silver, look beneath the room where Papa slept.”
Serena went pale.
Landon looked toward her.
“What?”
She whispered:
“The house with the blue shutters.”
And in that instant they realized Santino had hidden something where no investigator, attorney, or enemy had ever thought to look.
But if Leo remembered the clue after two years, there was another possibility.
May you like
Someone else might remember it too.
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