Chapter 1
The first thing Raffaele did after the doors closed was send Lucy upstairs.
She refused to release his jacket.
“No, Daddy.”
He crouched until they were eye level.
“Aunt Teresa is coming. You’re going to stay with her.”
“What about Mommy?”
The question cut through him.
Raffaele touched the edge of Anna Corsini’s photograph in Lucy’s hands.
“We’re going to talk about Mommy. Just not while you’re scared.”
Lucy finally went with one of the women who had cared for her since infancy.
Only then did Raffaele turn back.
Marcus had pushed the broken cue rack away from himself. Celeste remained beside the overturned scoring stand.
Two passports lay near her feet.
Raffaele picked them up.
One belonged to Celeste.
The other belonged to Lucy.
Then he picked up the airline tickets.
Two seats.
JFK to Toronto.
Departure in less than four hours.
One way.
“You were taking my daughter out of the country.”
Celeste stood slowly.
“I was taking her somewhere safe.”
“From who?”
No answer.
Raffaele looked toward Marcus.
Marcus wiped blood from his mouth.
“Don’t be dramatic. She was leaving because you’re impossible when you get suspicious.”
Raffaele almost laughed.
“You attacked me while holding my daughter’s passport.”
“I was trying to stop this from becoming exactly what it became.”
“You mean questions?”
Marcus’s expression tightened.
Raffaele turned to Celeste.
“What did Lucy hear?”
“She misunderstood.”
“Then explain what she misunderstood.”
Celeste stared at the floor.
Raffaele waited.
Nothing.
He looked at Lucy’s photograph.
It had fallen during the struggle. One corner of the small wooden frame had cracked.
Marcus watched it too closely.
Raffaele noticed.
“Why did you reach for this?”
Marcus shrugged.
“The kid was waving it around.”
“You crossed the room for a photograph.”
“She could’ve cut herself.”
“Wood doesn’t cut like glass.”
Marcus said nothing.
Raffaele turned the frame over.
The backing was loose from the fall.
Nothing was hidden inside.
No document.
No memory card.
Only an old photograph of Anna holding one-year-old Lucy outside the estate two summers earlier.
But along the far edge of the image stood part of the Corsini garage.
And in front of it was Marcus.
Talking to someone in a mechanic’s uniform.
Raffaele looked at the date printed discreetly on the photographer’s proof.
June 18.
Anna had died the next night.
Marcus saw Raffaele reading it.
May you like
For the first time, he stopped pretending to be angry.
He looked afraid.
