Chapter 6 - The Night Emily Disappeared
Daniel had always trusted too easily.
That was part of what made him vulnerable.
It was also part of what made him kind.
He believed people when they said they wanted to help.
He believed smiles.
He believed promises.
Whoever drove that car had understood him.
Security footage showed Daniel walking calmly from the medical facility at 1:17 p.m.
He carried his jacket.
He waved to the receptionist.
No struggle.
No panic.
No sign that he believed he was in danger.
Then he entered a black sedan registered to Vincent Marino.
Vincent stared at the screen.
“That car was stolen three years ago.”
Tommy looked at him.
“Did you report it?”
“Yes.”
“To whom?”
“NYPD.”
Within minutes, records confirmed it.
The vehicle had been stolen from a Manhattan garage.
Recovered six months later.
Auctioned.
Resold twice.
Someone had registered it using forged documents under Vincent’s name.
“They want us fighting,” I said.
Dante looked at me.
“Obviously.”
“No. Specifically you and Vincent.”
Vincent crossed his arms.
“Why?”
“Because Clara trusted both of you.”
Dante’s expression tightened.
I continued.
“My father wrote that whoever killed her needed access inside your family. Now they’re using Vincent’s name. Why?”
Tommy answered.
“To make Dante doubt him.”
Exactly.
Daniel’s phone was found three blocks from the facility.
But Daniel had hidden a tracking tag inside his shoe months earlier after wandering away from Cedar Ridge during an episode.
The signal appeared on my phone.
South Side.
Warehouse district.
Dante saw the location.
His face changed.
“Warehouse 17.”
The original building no longer operated under that name.
But the address matched.
We arrived twenty-eight minutes later.
The warehouse was mostly empty.
No guards outside.
No visible cars.
Dante wanted me to stay behind.
I refused.
He did not waste time arguing.
Inside, we heard music.
Old jazz.
Daniel loved jazz.
We found him sitting in a chair near a portable speaker.
Across from him sat Salvatore Genovese.
Alive.
Daniel smiled when he saw me.
“Em.”
I ran to him.
Sal remained seated.
Dante stopped ten feet away.
His voice was terrifyingly calm.
“You took him.”
Sal shook his head.
“I asked him to come.”
“That is taking him.”
Daniel interrupted.
“He said Dad knew him.”
I looked at Sal.
“Did you?”
Sal lowered his eyes.
“Yes.”
The warehouse became silent.
“You knew my father?”
“For years.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because Michael asked me not to.”
Dante moved closer.
Sal did not stand.
“I betrayed you,” Sal said.
“Yes.”
“But not the way you think.”
“Then educate me.”
Sal looked at Daniel.
“Not in front of him.”
Daniel frowned.
“I’m twenty-seven.”
Tommy almost smiled despite the situation.
I moved Daniel to the far side with Vincent.
Then Sal spoke.
“Antonio threatened my family.”
Dante’s expression did not change.
“He ordered me to report Clara’s movements.”
“You did.”
“Yes.”
“Then she died.”
Sal’s eyes filled.
“Yes.”
Dante took another step.
I touched his arm.
He stopped.
Sal continued.
“I spent nine years trying to find the rest of Antonio’s network.”
“By stealing three million from me?”
“I wasn’t stealing it.”
“Emily traced it.”
“I was moving money.”
“For whom?”
“Michael.”
I stared.
“My father was dead.”
“Not when it started.”
Sal explained.
Michael had created a secret fund to track Antonio’s accounts.
After Michael died, Samuel continued the operation.
The recent transfers were designed to provoke whoever still controlled the old network.
“And it worked,” Sal said.
Dante’s voice sharpened.
“Then why did you run?”
“Because someone inside Marino Holdings accessed the conference room security system. Whoever they are, they knew I was alive.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
I suddenly understood.
“Daniel.”
Everyone looked at me.
I turned toward Sal.
“You didn’t bring him here because you wanted leverage.”
“No.”
“You brought him because he has something.”
Sal nodded.
Daniel looked confused.
“What do I have?”
Sal stood slowly.
“Your father gave you something before he died.”
“The notebook.”
“Something else.”
Daniel thought.
Then his hand went to the chain around his neck.
A small brass pendant.
He had worn it for years.
I had assumed it belonged to our mother.
Sal looked at it.
“That.”
Daniel removed the pendant.
Inside was a tiny memory card.
My father had hidden data around Daniel’s neck for five years.
We loaded it onto Sal’s laptop.
There was one file.
A scanned ledger page.
And an audio recording.
The voice was Antonio Marino.
Older.
Weak.
“I don’t care what it costs. Clara cannot reach Dante.”
Another male voice answered.
“We can redirect her.”
“No.”
Antonio coughed.
“If she tells him, I lose everything.”
Then the second man spoke again.
Clearer this time.
A voice Dante recognized.
We all did.
Tommy.
Everyone turned toward him.
Tommy’s face went white.
“That’s not me.”
The recording continued.
The voice sounded exactly like him.
Dante stared.
Tommy shook his head.
“I never spoke to Antonio.”
Vincent stepped closer.
“It sounds like you.”
“I know.”
Daniel looked frightened.
I examined the audio file.
“Could it be edited?”
Sal nodded.
“Maybe.”
The recording ended with Antonio saying one final sentence.
“Tomorrow. Clara dies.”
Dante turned away.
Tommy stood frozen.
Then gunshots sounded outside.
Not inside the warehouse.
Outside.
Dante immediately pushed Daniel behind a concrete column.
Sal killed the lights.
Tommy moved toward the side door.
I heard engines.
Then alarms.
Smoke began filling the rear loading area.
Someone had started a fire outside the building.
Not to attack us directly.
To force us out.
Dante grabbed my hand.
“We leave through the east exit.”
We moved.
The smoke thickened.
Sprinklers failed.
Another sign the building had been prepared.
We reached the corridor.
Then a steel fire door slammed between me and Dante.
“Emily!”
I pulled the handle.
Locked.
Smoke rolled across the ceiling.
“Go!” I shouted.
Dante hit the door from the other side.
I ran toward another exit.
The corridor split.
I chose left.
Wrong choice.
Someone stepped from the smoke.
Gray jacket.
Mask.
I turned.
A hand covered my mouth.
The world tilted.
The last thing I heard was Dante shouting my name from behind the steel door.
Then darkness.
When I woke, I was lying on a sofa.
No ropes.
No injuries.
No locked room.
Sunlight came through curtains.
A woman sat across from me.
Silver hair.
Elegant posture.
Perhaps sixty.
She placed a cup of tea on the table.
“You look exactly like Michael.”
I sat up.
“Who are you?”
The woman smiled sadly.
“My name is Elena Marino.”
My heart stopped.
Dante had told me his mother died before Clara.
Elena looked directly into my eyes.
May you like
“And Dante believes I have been dead for eleven years.”
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