Chapter 5 - A Stranger Waiting in Rome
The man’s name was Paolo Ricci.
Clare learned that twenty minutes later.
Dante wanted her to remain at the villa.
She refused.
“You asked for my help.”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m coming.”
“No.”
Clare folded her arms.
“You cannot ask me to explain a conversation from six months ago and then decide which parts I’m allowed to hear.”
“This man may be dangerous.”
“Then don’t take Maya.”
“I wasn’t suggesting that.”
“Neither am I.”
Dante looked toward Sofia.
Clare followed his gaze.
Sofia sat on the terrace with Maya and Leo.
Maya was showing the baby how Bunny could “fly.”
Clare hesitated.
Leaving Maya behind went against every instinct she had developed over the previous years.
But bringing her into an interrogation was worse.
Sofia approached.
“She can stay with me.”
Clare looked at her.
“I barely know you.”
Sofia nodded.
“That is true.”
No offense.
No pressure.
Just acknowledgment.
Clare appreciated that.
“I’ll be one hour.”
Dante said nothing.
Marco looked away.
Clare caught it.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“What does that face mean?”
Marco sighed.
“Nothing in Dante’s life takes one hour.”
Dante gave him a cold look.
Clare almost laughed.
She crouched beside Maya.
“I’m going out for a little while.”
“Where?”
“To talk to someone.”
“Can I come?”
“Not this time.”
Maya frowned.
“You stay with Miss Sofia and baby Leo.”
Maya considered the baby.
“Okay.”
Clare kissed her forehead.
When she stood, Dante was watching.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You do that a lot.”
“What?”
“Stare like you’re trying to solve someone.”
Dante opened the car door.
“I usually am.”
The Salvatore office occupied the top floors of a restored building near central Rome.
Nothing about it looked criminal.
Receptionists smiled.
Employees carried tablets.
A wall displayed photographs of cargo ships and philanthropic projects.
Clare whispered to Marco, “You really do shipping?”
Marco smiled.
“See? We’re respectable.”
Dante heard him.
“Don’t ruin it.”
Paolo waited in a conference room.
He was fifty, maybe older.
Thin.
Gray hair.
Nervous hands.
When Clare entered, he immediately stood.
“That’s her.”
Dante closed the door.
“How do you know Clare?”
Paolo stared.
“I don’t.”
“You just recognized her.”
“I saw photographs.”
Clare’s stomach tightened.
“Whose?”
“Mrs. Salvatore’s.”
Dante went still.
Paolo looked toward him.
“Your wife had her photograph.”
Clare felt as if the room had tilted.
“That’s impossible.”
“No.”
Paolo reached slowly into his jacket.
Marco immediately stepped forward.
Paolo froze.
“It is paper.”
“Use two fingers,” Marco said.
Paolo pulled out an envelope.
Dante took it.
Inside was a photograph.
Clare stared.
It was her.
Standing outside St. Matthew’s Hospital.
The photograph had been taken at least a year earlier.
Her hair was shorter.
She wore blue scrubs.
Someone had circled her face.
On the back, in Alessia’s handwriting, were two words.
Ask her.
Clare sat down.
“I don’t understand.”
Dante’s expression had become unreadable.
“Where did Alessia get this?”
Paolo swallowed.
“I do not know.”
“You were her security.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because she told me not to.”
Dante slammed the photograph onto the table.
“You disappeared after she died.”
Paolo flinched.
“I was afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Paolo looked toward Clare.
“A man named Victor Hale.”
Marco’s face changed.
Dante noticed.
“You know him.”
Marco nodded slowly.
“Security consultant. Worked for the foundation for about eighteen months.”
Dante remembered.
Hale had managed data protection and logistics coordination for several hospitals receiving Salvatore Foundation funding.
Including St. Matthew’s.
Clare felt cold.
“What does he have to do with me?”
Paolo rubbed his hands together.
“Mrs. Salvatore believed someone was using foundation medical transfers to move information.”
“What kind of information?” Dante asked.
“Patient identities. Insurance accounts. Birth records.”
Clare understood immediately.
“Identity theft.”
Paolo nodded.
“Among other things.”
Dante’s voice became quieter.
“And Leo?”
Paolo looked terrified.
“Mrs. Salvatore found two versions of his neonatal file.”
Clare leaned forward.
“Different blood types?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Paolo hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
“Then what do you know?” Dante demanded.
“After Leo was born, someone accessed his records from Ohio.”
“St. Matthew’s,” Clare said.
Paolo nodded.
“Alessia traced the user account to a nursing department terminal.”
Clare’s heart accelerated.
“That doesn’t mean a nurse accessed it. Shared terminals are everywhere.”
“Your login was on the machine.”
Clare stared.
“No.”
Paolo looked apologetic.
“That is why she searched for you.”
Clare shook her head.
“I never opened Leo’s chart.”
“Can you prove it?” Dante asked.
She turned toward him.
The question hurt more than it should have.
“You think I did this?”
“I’m asking.”
“I was a labor nurse in Ohio. Why would I alter your son’s records?”
“I don’t know.”
“You already said you don’t know a lot today.”
Marco stepped between their eye lines.
“That isn’t helping.”
Clare pushed back her chair.
“I’m done.”
Dante stood.
“Clare.”
“No.”
She turned toward Paolo.
“Did Alessia believe I did it?”
Paolo shook his head quickly.
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she said your access looked wrong.”
Clare stopped.
“What does that mean?”
“She believed someone used your credentials.”
Clare’s mind raced.
Hospital logins.
Passwords.
Workstations.
Badge access.
Richard.
No.
She rejected the thought immediately.
Richard had complained about the hospital constantly, but he had never—
A memory surfaced.
Six months ago, she had been asleep after a double shift.
Richard had used her laptop.
He said he needed to print a document.
Her hospital remote login token had been connected.
Clare’s stomach turned.
“When exactly did someone access the record?”
Paolo gave the date.
Clare knew where she had been.
At home.
Sick with influenza.
Richard had taken Maya to daycare.
Or said he had.
“What?” Dante asked.
Clare looked at him.
“My husband had access to my computer that day.”
The room became silent.
Marco straightened.
Dante’s expression changed.
“Would he know your hospital password?”
“He knew everything.”
“Could he access clinical records?”
“Not easily.”
“But possible?”
Clare closed her eyes.
“With my token.”
Paolo suddenly whispered, “Peterson.”
Everyone looked at him.
“What?” Clare asked.
Paolo’s face had gone pale.
“I heard that name.”
“When?”
“The week before the explosion.”
“From Alessia?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
Paolo looked toward Dante.
“Victor Hale.”
Dante’s entire posture changed.
“What did he say?”
“He was arguing with someone by phone outside the foundation office.”
Paolo swallowed.
“He said, ‘Peterson was supposed to clean the Ohio access.’”
Clare stopped breathing.
Richard.
Her Richard.
The controlling husband who monitored her accounts.
The man who hated her nursing job.
The man who had suddenly begun earning more money two years earlier and always refused to explain certain clients.
Dante saw the realization spreading across her face.
“Clare.”
She stood abruptly.
“I need Maya.”
“She’s safe.”
“I need her now.”
Dante nodded to Marco.
They left immediately.
During the drive, Clare called Rachel.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
She called her sister.
Nothing.
Then Richard called.
Clare stared at the screen.
Dante looked at her.
“You don’t have to answer.”
“Yes, I do.”
She accepted.
“Richard?”
His voice came through calm and familiar.
“Finally.”
Clare’s hands tightened.
“Where are you?”
“You already know.”
“No.”
“Where is Maya?”
“She’s safe.”
“With Salvatore?”
Clare’s eyes flew to Dante.
Richard laughed quietly.
“I told you, Clare. Rome won’t protect you.”
Dante held out his hand.
Clare shook her head.
Richard continued.
“You have no idea what you walked into.”
“What did you do?”
Silence.
Clare’s breathing quickened.
“What did you do with my hospital account?”
Richard’s tone changed.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“You’re confused.”
“You accessed Leo Salvatore’s records.”
“Who told you that?”
Clare closed her eyes.
There it was.
Not denial.
A question.
Dante heard it too.
Clare whispered, “You did.”
Richard’s voice hardened.
“Listen to me carefully. Take Maya, leave Salvatore, and meet me.”
“No.”
“Clare.”
“No.”
“You’re making the same mistake you always make. You think you understand things you don’t.”
She stared at Dante.
For years, that sentence had silenced her.
Now it didn’t.
“What happened to Alessia Salvatore?”
Richard went silent.
Clare’s heart hammered.
“Richard?”
His answer came slowly.
“I didn’t kill anyone.”
Clare had not asked whether he had.
Dante’s eyes turned deadly cold.
Richard realized his mistake.
“Clare—”
She ended the call.
For several seconds, no one spoke.
Then Marco’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed immediately.
“What?”
Dante leaned forward.
Marco looked at him.
“The villa.”
Clare’s entire body tightened.
“What about it?”
Marco turned the car faster.
“Security cameras just went offline.”
Clare grabbed the seat.
“Maya.”
Dante took out his phone.
“Call Sofia.”
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
Clare felt panic explode through her chest.
“Drive faster.”
Marco already was.
The villa was twelve minutes away.
It felt like twelve hours.
When the iron gates finally came into view, they were open.
Not damaged.
Open.
A guard lay unconscious beside the security house, breathing but motionless.
Clare was out of the car before it fully stopped.
“Maya!”
Dante followed.
They ran inside.
The entrance hall was empty.
“Sofia!”
Nothing.
Then a small cry came from upstairs.
Not Leo.
Maya.
Clare ran toward the staircase.
Dante caught her arm.
“Wait.”
“That’s my daughter!”
“I know.”
He moved in front of her.
For the first time, Clare understood something terrifying about Dante Salvatore.
He was not fearless.
Fear had simply taught him how to move.
They reached the second floor.
A bedroom door stood open.
Sofia sat on the floor.
Her lip was bleeding.
Teresa was beside her.
Leo was crying.
Clare searched desperately.
“Maya?”
Sofia pointed toward the closet.
Clare opened it.
Maya sat inside hugging Bunny.
“Mommy!”
Clare fell to her knees.
She pulled her daughter into her arms.
Maya sobbed.
“A man came.”
Clare’s blood turned cold.
“Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Did he hurt you?”
Maya shook her head.
“He asked where you were.”
Clare looked at Dante.
“Who?”
Maya sniffed.
“I don’t know.”
Then she held out something.
A folded piece of paper.
“He told me to give you this.”
Clare opened it.
Only one sentence had been written.
May you like
Ask your husband why Alessia Salvatore had to die.
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