Chapter 11 - The Man Behind the Gunshot
I wanted to go to Pier 17.
Dominic said no.
Daniel said absolutely not.
Evelyn said several things involving my sanity.
Leo simply stared at me as though he had expected this.
“He's using my mother,” I said.
Daniel shook his head.
“He's baiting you.”
“I know.”
“Then stop acting like bait.”
Dominic remained silent.
That worried me.
“Dominic?”
“I’m thinking.”
“About what?”
“How to make Vincent believe he won.”
Daniel looked at him.
“We're listening.”
The plan was simple.
Too simple.
Dominic would announce internally that he was transferring Elena’s files to a secure location.
Only four people would receive four different destinations.
Whichever location Vincent targeted would reveal who was still leaking information.
The four people were Leo, two senior guards, and Dominic’s accountant.
Each received a different false destination.
Six hours later, Daniel's department intercepted a message.
Vincent had ordered someone to watch an old bank building.
The location given only to one person.
Dominic’s accountant.
Gabriel Knox.
He had served the Rossi family for nineteen years.
Dominic looked at the intercepted message without emotion.
Another trusted man.
Another betrayal.
“How much?” he asked.
Daniel answered.
“Three million over six years.”
Dominic laughed softly.
“Apparently loyalty has become expensive.”
They arrested Knox that afternoon.
He cooperated almost immediately.
Vincent had been planning Dominic's removal for nearly two years.
Why?
Control.
Carlo Rossi had unknowingly allowed Vincent to build his own network inside the larger organization.
When Carlo died, Vincent expected Dominic to be easy to manipulate.
He wasn't.
Dominic closed illegal gambling rooms.
Cut ties with violent associates.
Moved money toward legitimate businesses.
Started auditing accounts.
Vincent began losing everything.
“So he shot you,” I said.
Knox shook his head.
“No.”
Everyone froze.
“What?” Dominic asked.
“Vincent arranged it. But he wasn't the shooter.”
“Who was?”
Knox hesitated.
Daniel leaned forward.
“Name.”
“Marco Bell.”
Dominic’s expression changed.
I remembered the name.
During his fever.
Marco.
“Who is he?” I asked.
Dominic stared at the wall.
“My childhood friend.”
Another betrayal.
“How close?”
Leo answered.
“They were raised almost like brothers.”
Dominic looked exhausted.
Not physically.
Emotionally.
“Why?”
Knox swallowed.
“Vincent convinced him you planned to turn him over to federal investigators.”
“I didn't.”
“I know.”
“Marco believed him.”
“Where is he?”
“Vincent has him.”
The entire plot became clear.
Vincent manipulated Anthony with debt.
Pierce with money.
Knox with money.
Marco with fear.
Mercer had discovered the scheme and died.
Rebecca had discovered an earlier version and died.
Elena had discovered Vincent twelve years ago.
She had died too.
One man had spent years turning other people's weaknesses into weapons.
Dominic stood.
“I want Marco found alive.”
Daniel frowned.
“After he shot you?”
“Yes.”
“He tried to kill you.”
“He was lied to.”
“So was Anthony.”
Dominic looked at me.
“Doesn't erase what they did.”
“No.”
“But?”
He looked away.
“But I've spent my entire life watching men justify terrible things by saying someone deserved them.”
He faced Daniel.
“I won't do that.”
Something inside me shifted.
This was not the man everyone had described to me.
Or perhaps he had been.
And he was choosing not to remain that man.
Daniel nodded slowly.
“We’ll bring Marco in alive if possible.”
That night, we found another file on Elena's drive.
A photograph.
Vincent beside Rebecca Hayes.
My mother.
Taken at St. Matthew’s.
The date was three days before she died.
On the back, in my mother’s handwriting:
If anything happens to me, ask why Vincent Moretti needed the refrigerated trucks after midnight.
Refrigerated trucks.
Dominic called Leo.
“Do we still have records from Rossi Medical?”
“Some.”
“How far back?”
“Digitized archives go twenty years.”
Within two hours, Leo found them.
Refrigerated medical trucks had been used to transport pharmaceuticals.
But on six dates twelve years ago, the vehicle weights didn't match the manifests.
“What was inside?” I asked.
Leo checked another file.
“No record.”
Dominic stared at the screen.
“Where did the trucks go?”
Leo pulled the GPS archives.
“Pier 17.”
The same location Vincent had chosen for his exchange.
Daniel arrived twenty minutes later.
“We searched old port records.”
“And?”
“Vincent controlled a storage unit there through another company.”
“Still active?”
“Yes.”
Dominic looked at me.
“That's why he chose the pier.”
“He knows the area.”
“More than that.”
Daniel placed photographs on the table.
The storage unit had been rented continuously for twelve years.
From the month Elena died.
Whatever Vincent had been protecting began there.
Daniel obtained a warrant.
At 4:30 a.m., police entered the unit.
No Vincent.
No Marco.
Instead, they found boxes.
Old documents.
Medical shipments.
Ledgers.
And a damaged sedan door.
Dark blue.
The same color as Elena’s car.
Forensic technicians found paint transfer.
Metal deformation.
Evidence suggesting another vehicle had struck it before Elena went through the guardrail.
Her death hadn't been an accident.
Then Daniel found a second file.
My mother's car.
Repair records.
Photos.
A payment made to a mechanic to replace a steering component one day before her crash.
Authorized by Vincent.
I sat down.
There it was.
Not complete proof.
But enough to destroy the last comforting possibility.
My mother had not simply lost control.
Someone had interfered with her car.
Dominic crouched beside me.
“Nora.”
I couldn't speak.
He didn't tell me everything would be okay.
Didn't tell me to calm down.
He simply stayed.
Minutes passed.
Finally, I whispered, “He killed both of them.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“Yes.”
“I want him found.”
“So do I.”
“No revenge.”
His eyes moved to mine.
I knew what I was asking.
“No revenge,” I repeated.
He remained silent for a long moment.
Then nodded.
“Justice.”
“Yes.”
“Justice.”
His phone rang.
Unknown number.
Dominic answered.
A man spoke.
“Dom?”
Dominic went pale.
“Marco.”
The voice sounded broken.
“Vincent lied to me.”
“Where are you?”
“I don't know.”
“Marco.”
“He's going after Nora.”
Dominic stood.
“What?”
“He doesn't want the files anymore. He knows police have the warehouse.”
“Where is he?”
A crash sounded through the phone.
Marco shouted.
Then the connection died.
Daniel immediately began tracing it.
Dominic turned toward me.
“Nora, upstairs.”
“Why?”
“Now.”
Then the mansion alarms began screaming.
A guard's voice came through the radio.
“Vehicle breached the west gate.”
Dominic’s face changed.
Vincent wasn't waiting forty-eight hours.
May you like
He was already here.
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