Chapter 7 - A House Full of Strangers
Gemma stared at Anthony.
“What?”
The alarm continued pulsing.
Red light.
Darkness.
Red light.
“Later,” Leo said. “We move now.”
Arthur led them through the stairwell.
Raymond supported Anthony.
They reached the ground floor, but the primary exit had been electronically sealed.
Gemma looked at Leo.
“Your criminal empire doesn't have a universal door opener?”
“I'm considering investing in one.”
Despite the situation, she nearly smiled.
Arthur found a maintenance corridor.
Anthony remembered an old laundry exit.
Seven minutes later they emerged behind the building.
Mercer’s people were already moving toward the rear.
Leo’s drivers accelerated from the tree line.
Everyone climbed into separate SUVs.
No gunfire.
No heroic confrontation.
Only speed.
Sometimes survival was less cinematic than people imagined.
By the time Mercer reached the road, Leo’s vehicles had separated in three directions.
Gemma, Leo, and Anthony rode together.
“What did you mean?” Gemma demanded.
Anthony looked exhausted.
“About what you're carrying?”
“Yes.”
Leo said, “Give him a minute.”
“I've had twenty-two years of people giving secrets a minute.”
Anthony almost smiled.
“You definitely belong to this family.”
Gemma groaned.
“Apparently everyone knows except me.”
Anthony reached toward her necklace.
Gemma recoiled.
“What?”
“That.”
She looked down.
A tiny silver pendant hung from her neck.
Nothing expensive.
She had worn it since childhood.
A small oval charm engraved with a simple flower.
“My necklace?”
“Your mother kept it.”
“She said it belonged to my grandmother.”
“It did.”
Leo leaned closer.
Anthony said, “Vittorio gave it to his wife, then kept it after she died.”
Gemma removed the chain.
“There’s nothing inside.”
“There is.”
Anthony rotated the pendant.
A tiny seam appeared.
Leo took it carefully.
Using the edge of his ring, he pressed a nearly invisible notch.
The pendant opened.
Inside was no photograph.
Instead, a tiny metallic strip rested beneath the backing.
Gemma stared.
“What is that?”
Anthony said, “A microfilm key.”
Leo looked at him.
“From the nineties?”
“Your father trusted analog systems.”
“Because digital systems could be hacked,” Raymond had said earlier.
Anthony nodded.
“Vittorio created three copies of his files. One at Bellweather. One controlled by me. The third encrypted archive requires that strip.”
“Where’s the archive?” Leo asked.
Anthony looked at Gemma.
“I truly don't know anymore.”
“You hid something and forgot where?”
“I didn't hide it.”
“Who did?”
Anthony smiled.
“Your father.”
That was not helpful.
Gemma put the pendant back around her neck.
“So Daniel has been chasing me because I’m wearing a tiny piece of metal?”
“He may not know what form the key took.”
Leo said, “Then let's keep it that way.”
They returned to the safe house after midnight.
Elena ran outside before the SUV fully stopped.
When she saw Anthony, she froze.
He stepped from the vehicle.
“Elena.”
She began crying.
Anthony did too.
She hugged him.
“I'm sorry.”
“No,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”
Gemma watched from several feet away.
Leo stood beside her.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“Fair.”
She glanced at him.
“You say ‘fair’ a lot.”
“I'm discovering I've been wrong about many things.”
“That's almost emotional growth.”
“Don't spread it around.”
Gemma smiled despite herself.
Inside, the safe house became crowded.
Elena.
Leo.
Gemma.
Anthony.
Arthur.
Raymond.
Guards.
People who had lied.
People who had hidden.
People who had hurt one another and convinced themselves it had been necessary.
Gemma looked around the dining table.
“This is the worst family reunion in human history.”
Anthony chuckled.
Raymond did not.
Leo poured water.
“No coffee.”
Gemma smiled.
“Learning.”
The next morning, Gemma woke in a guest bedroom worth more than her apartment building.
For several seconds she forgot where she was.
Then she saw the pendant on the nightstand.
Everything returned.
She found Leo in the kitchen.
He was attempting to make eggs.
Badly.
Gemma leaned against the doorway.
“What are you doing?”
“Breakfast.”
“You have staff.”
“I told them to stay out.”
“Why?”
He looked uncomfortable.
“I thought fathers make breakfast.”
Gemma stared.
“I think sitcom fathers make breakfast.”
Leo looked at the burned eggs.
“That explains a lot.”
Gemma approached.
“You've never cooked?”
“I can grill.”
“That's not cooking.”
“I've heard arguments to the contrary.”
She took the pan.
“Move.”
He obeyed.
They stood side by side.
Normal.
Almost.
Leo asked, “What did you want to be?”
Gemma frowned.
“When?”
“When you were a kid.”
“Alive?”
He looked at her.
“Sorry.”
“No. I deserved that.”
She sighed.
“I wanted to be a teacher.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“College costs money.”
“I can pay—”
“No.”
The answer came immediately.
Leo nodded.
“Okay.”
She looked at him.
“No argument?”
“You said no.”
“Who are you?”
“Trying.”
That quieted her.
Gemma scrambled new eggs.
“I did community college for a year.”
“What happened?”
“Mom got sick. Not serious. But she missed work. Rent didn't care.”
Leo looked toward the hallway.
Elena had never mentioned illness.
Gemma knew what he was thinking.
All the years he could have helped.
All the years they struggled while he lived surrounded by wealth.
“It isn't your fault we were broke,” Gemma said.
“I had enough money to change both your lives.”
“You didn't know.”
“I should have.”
“How?”
He didn't answer.
She put eggs on plates.
“Stop punishing yourself for not being psychic.”
Leo looked surprised.
“That's generous.”
“Don't get excited. I have a long list of other things to blame you for.”
He smiled.
There it was again.
That strange possibility.
A relationship beginning not at birth but at twenty-two.
Awkward.
Damaged.
Maybe still possible.
They ate at the kitchen island.
Gemma pointed at his ring.
“Why did you keep wearing it?”
Leo looked down.
“I almost stopped.”
“Why didn't you?”
“Because after the car fire, it was the only thing I had that belonged to the life before.”
“My mother had the other.”
“I know.”
“Neither of you took them off.”
Leo did not answer.
He didn’t need to.
Elena entered.
She stopped when she saw them eating together.
Her expression softened and saddened at once.
Leo stood.
“There's food.”
Elena looked at the pan.
Gemma said, “I made the second attempt.”
“Wise.”
Leo frowned.
“Everyone is critical.”
For several minutes, all three sat together.
The family they might have been.
Then Arthur entered holding an envelope.
His expression killed the warmth immediately.
“Found outside the gate.”
Leo stood.
“How?”
“Camera went down for forty-six seconds.”
The envelope was addressed to Gemma.
Leo said, “Don't open it.”
Gemma already had.
Inside was a single sheet.
A copy of her high school graduation photograph.
On the back:
You have been closer to us than you think.
Gemma felt cold.
Another photograph slipped out.
Her at age nine.
Walking home from school.
Another.
Age thirteen.
At a grocery store.
Another.
Age seventeen.
Leaving community college.
Leo's face changed.
“They watched you.”
Elena covered her mouth.
“For years.”
Arthur checked the envelope.
“One more.”
The last photograph showed Gemma at the Brass Rail.
It had been taken months earlier.
Behind the counter.
Laughing.
In the corner of the image, barely visible through the window reflection, stood a man taking the photograph.
Gemma stared.
She knew him.
“No.”
Leo looked at her.
“What?”
“That man.”
“Who is he?”
Gemma's mouth went dry.
“He comes into the diner every Sunday.”
Arthur enlarged the reflection.
Late fifties.
Gray baseball cap.
Ordinary coat.
Leo looked at Raymond.
Raymond’s face changed.
“You know him?”
Raymond whispered, “Yes.”
“Who?”
“Samuel Krell.”
The dentist who had falsely identified Anthony’s body.
Gemma stared at the photograph.
For at least five years, the man had eaten eggs at her counter.
Left five-dollar tips.
Asked about her mother.
Remembered her birthday.
She had thought he was lonely.
Harmless.
A regular.
Leo immediately called the Brass Rail.
No answer.
Gemma called Dave.
Voicemail.
The owner.
Voicemail.
Arthur sent two men.
Twenty minutes later, his phone rang.
He listened.
“What happened?” Leo asked.
Arthur slowly lowered the phone.
“The diner is empty.”
Gemma frowned.
“Empty how?”
“No staff. No customers.”
“What about Samuel?”
“Gone.”
Arthur looked at her.
“Gemma, there’s something written on the wall behind the counter.”
“What?”
Arthur hesitated.
Leo took the phone.
A photograph appeared.
Black marker across the white tile.
BRING THE PENDANT HOME.
Beneath those words:
ASK YOUR MOTHER WHERE YOU WERE BORN.
Gemma turned toward Elena.
Her mother’s face had gone pale.
“Mom?”
Elena sat down.
“No.”
Gemma approached.
“Where was I born?”
Elena's eyes filled.
“Not Chicago.”
“Where?”
Leo stepped closer.
“Elena.”
She looked at both of them.
Then finally answered.
“St. Gabriel.”
The abandoned facility where Anthony had been imprisoned.
Gemma stared.
And suddenly the pendant around her neck felt less like jewelry.
More like a tag.
Because the building Daniel Mercer had used to hide Anthony was also the place where Gemma Moretti had entered the world.
May you like
And somebody had been waiting twenty-two years for her to come back.
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