Chapter 2
Vincent looked at me.
“Take her inside.”
I nodded, but my legs felt unsteady.
“What about you?”
I asked.
“I’ll be right behind you.”
It was a simple reassurance, but something in his voice made me stop.
He wasn’t speaking as the man everyone feared.
He was speaking as someone who understood that my daughter had just placed herself between him and danger.
I carried Mia into the sitting room, where Mrs.
Alvarez, the estate manager, was already waiting with a blanket.
She wrapped it around Mia’s shoulders and brought her a cup of warm milk.
Mia kept looking toward the front doors.
“Is the man still there?” she whispered.
“No,” I said softly.
“The men are checking.”
“The man had a blue hat.”
Mrs.
Alvarez glanced at me.
“Are you sure, sweetheart?” she asked.
Mia nodded.
“Blue hat.
And a shiny shoe.”
“A shiny shoe?”
I repeated.
“He walked funny.”
That detail caught my attention.
Three nights earlier, I had seen a shadow near the carriage house.
It had moved across the wet grass with a slight hitch, as if one leg were stiff or injured.
At the time, I had blamed the rain and my own tired eyes.
Now I wasn’t so sure.
Vincent came into the room, followed by Dominic.
Neither man had raised his voice, but the atmosphere changed when they entered.
Every conversation in the house seemed to stop.
“Is she certain?”
Dominic asked.
“She’s three,” I replied.
“She may be frightened.”
Vincent crouched in front of Mia, keeping a careful distance so he wouldn’t startle her.
“Sweetheart, do you remember what the man wore?”
Mia looked at him seriously.
“Blue hat.
Dark coat.
Shiny shoe.”
“Did he say anything?”
She shook her head.
“Did he see you?”
Another shake.
“Did he come near your window?”
Mia pointed toward the back of the room.
“From there.”
I followed her finger.
The sitting room faced the driveway.
Beyond the windows, the carriage house sat at the edge of the property, partly hidden by tall hedges.
That was where Mia and I lived.
That was where she had been standing during the storm.
Vincent’s eyes moved from the window to me.
“Did you notice anyone near the carriage house that night?”
I hesitated.
“I heard something.”
“What?”
“A gate.”
Dominic’s posture sharpened.
“I thought it was the wind,” I continued.
“The storm was loud.
I looked outside, but I couldn’t see anything.”
“What time?”
“I don’t know.
After midnight.”
“Did you leave your room?”
“No.”
“Was the carriage house locked?”
“Yes.”
I remembered checking it twice before bed.
The door had a stubborn latch that needed to be pulled firmly before the lock would catch.
Vincent stood.
“Dominic, get the footage from the east cameras.”
“They’re already pulling it.”
“From three nights ago through this morning.”
Dominic nodded and stepped aside to speak quietly into his radio.
I looked at Vincent.
“What did they find under the SUV?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Is it a bomb?”
His expression didn’t change, but his eyes softened slightly.
“If it were, the people checking it would have moved farther away.”
That was not exactly comforting.
“Then what is it?”
“We’ll know soon.”
Mia reached for his sleeve.
Vincent looked down.
“Don’t go in the car,” she said.
“I won’t.”
“Promise?”
He paused.
Then he lowered himself to one knee.
“I promise I won’t get into that car until everyone understands what was placed beneath it.”
Mia studied his face, as if deciding whether he was trustworthy.
Finally, she nodded.
“Okay.”
It was a tiny exchange, but it left the room strangely quiet.
Vincent Marchetti, a man whose name made grown men lower their voices, had just made a promise to a three-year-old and was waiting for her permission to stand.
I looked away before he could see how much that affected me.
For eight months, I had worked in his house without knowing what to make of him.
He was distant, exacting, and surrounded by people who treated his smallest instruction like law.
But he had never spoken harshly to me.
He had never touched me.
When Mia developed a fever in January, he had arranged for a pediatrician to come to the estate without making me beg for help.
Still, kindness could exist beside secrets.
I had learned that much long before I came to Lake Forest.
A sharp knock sounded at the front door.
Dominic returned with two specialists wearing plain dark uniforms.
They carried hard cases and moved toward the SUV with careful, practiced steps.
Vincent remained inside.
Frank did not.
He drifted closer to the window, watching the specialists inspect the underside of the vehicle.
Dominic caught him looking.
“Back from the glass,” he said.
Frank obeyed, but his jaw tightened.
I noticed it.
So did Vincent.
“Frank,” Vincent said.
The guard turned.
“Where were you at two thirteen in the morning three nights ago?”
Frank blinked.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I was home.”
“Your apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Anyone with you?”
Frank’s face reddened.
“My brother.”
“Call him.”
Frank stared at Vincent.
For the first time since I had known him, he looked less like a loyal employee and more like a man who felt personally accused.
“You think I put something on your car?”
“I think someone did.”
“I’ve worked for you seven years.”
“And yet you’re the one asking why I’m questioning you.”
Frank took a breath and looked away.
Dominic said, “We’re checking everyone who had legitimate access.
That includes all of us.”
That seemed to calm him slightly.
A few minutes later, one of the specialists raised a hand.
Everyone in the room went still.
The man spoke into his radio, then walked back toward the house.
“It’s not an explosive,” he said.
“It’s a tracking unit, professionally installed.
There’s also a small audio transmitter.”
My stomach tightened.
“An audio transmitter?”
I asked.
“It may have been used to monitor conversations inside the vehicle.
We’re removing it now.”
Vincent’s face became unreadable.
“Could it have harmed anyone?”
“Not directly.
But whoever installed it knew the vehicle well enough to find a concealed access point.”
Dominic looked at him.
“The SUV was in the locked garage.”
“Then whoever did this had access,” Vincent said.
The specialist continued working.
I saw Vincent’s attention shift to Mia.
“Did the man put it under the car?” he asked her.
Mia nodded.
“Did he come from the garage?”
She considered the question.
Then she pointed toward the back hall.
“From the little door.”
The service entrance.
The one closest to the carriage house.
Dominic’s face hardened.
“Check that door.”
One of the guards hurried away.
I felt a chill move across my shoulders.
“Could he have entered the house?”
I asked.
“No,” Dominic said.
“The service entrance has an alarm.”
“Unless he had a key,” Vincent added.
Mia drank from her cup, her attention drifting toward the blanket.
Vincent watched her with unusual concentration.
“Did the man have a key?” he asked.
She lifted one finger.
“Little silver key.”
Dominic was already moving.
“Every access record,” Vincent ordered.
“Garage, service entrance, carriage house.
Three nights ago.”
“I’ll have them on the main screen.”
We moved to the security office, a narrow room behind the library.
Monitors covered one wall, showing every angle of the estate.
The central screen displayed the driveway and the silent SUV surrounded by specialists.
Mrs.
Alvarez brought Mia a box of crayons and paper.
Mia sat at the small table in the corner, drawing in careful circles.
I stayed beside her.
Vincent and Dominic stood at the security console.
“Here,” Dominic said.
A list appeared.
“Garage door opened at 2:11 a.m.
The badge belonged to Owen Bell.”
“Maintenance?”
Vincent asked.
“Yes.”
“Owen was out of town.”
“I know.”
“Then his badge was used by someone else.”
Dominic continued.
“Service entrance opened at 2:13.
Same badge.”
“And carriage house?”
Dominic entered another command.
“Not electronically accessed.”
Vincent looked over.
“What does that mean?”
“The lock was opened with a physical key.”
I glanced down at Mia.
She was drawing a blue shape with long black lines beneath it.
“Who has a key?”
I asked.
“Maintenance, estate management, security,” Dominic replied.
“And you.”
“Not me,” Mrs.
Alvarez said.
“I was home that night.
I never left my apartment.”
Vincent turned toward her.
“Did anyone see you?”
She gave him a wounded look.
“My husband did.”
“I’m not accusing you.”
“It sounds like you are accusing everyone.”
His expression shifted.
Not anger.
Something quieter.
“You’re right,” he said.
“I’m asking questions badly.”
Mrs.
Alvarez stared at him, surprised.
I was surprised too.
He rarely apologized.
Dominic reviewed the list again.
“Owen’s badge was reported missing yesterday.”
“Who reported it?”
Vincent asked.
“Owen.”
“Why didn’t I hear about it?”
“Because it was listed as a routine replacement.
He thought he’d misplaced it at the hardware store.”
Vincent turned to me.
“Did Owen come near the carriage house recently?”
I remembered the previous week.
“He fixed the heater in our kitchen,” I said.
“Four days ago.”
“Did he come inside?”
“Yes.
He was there for maybe twenty minutes.”
“Was anyone with him?”
“No.”
Mia suddenly pushed her paper away.
“Not him.”
Every adult in the room looked at her.
Vincent went to the table and crouched beside her again.
“Not who?”
“Not the fix-it man.”
“You’re sure?”
Mia nodded.
“The man had shiny shoe.”
She pointed to her drawing.
The figure she had made had one bright silver circle at the bottom of a black leg.
“The fix-it man’s shoes were brown,” she said.
Mrs.
Alvarez let out a slow breath.
“How could she remember that?”
“She notices things,” I said.
I remembered how Mia knew when I had changed laundry detergent, when a bird had struck the dining room window, and when her stuffed rabbit had been moved two inches from its usual place.
Her world was small, but she paid attention to all of it.
Dominic pulled up the camera footage.
The first few minutes showed rain washing over the driveway.
At 2:09, the garage door began to rise.
A figure entered beneath it.
The image was grainy, distorted by water on the lens, but the person was tall and narrow.
A dark coat.
Something blue on the head.
Then the screen flickered.
“Why did it do that?”
I asked.
“Camera maintenance,” Dominic said.
“The system restarted for nineteen seconds.”
“Convenient,” Vincent replied.
The footage returned.
The figure was gone.
A second camera showed the service entrance opening.
Again, the image cut out.
When it came back, the person was walking toward the SUV.
He moved with a noticeable limp.
Mia leaned toward the screen.
“That him,” she said.
Vincent looked at her.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded.
“He had one shiny shoe.”
The man bent beside the SUV.
His face stayed hidden beneath the blue cap, but as he reached beneath the vehicle, the light caught something on his wrist.
A thin metal bracelet.
Dominic froze the image.
“What is that?”
I asked.
“Could be a watch.”
“No,” Vincent said quietly.
He stepped closer to the screen.
“I know that bracelet.”
Dominic glanced at him.
Vincent didn’t answer.
His eyes remained fixed on the grainy image.
The specialists outside finished removing the device.
One of them carried it into a sealed container and spoke to a technician beside the gate.
But Vincent seemed no longer focused on the vehicle.
He was staring at the bracelet.
Finally, Dominic said, “You recognize it?”
Vincent’s face had gone pale.
“My brother wore one.”
The room fell silent.
I had heard the name Matteo Marchetti only once, months earlier, when two gardeners were speaking near the greenhouse.
They stopped the moment I approached.
“What happened to him?”
I asked before I could stop myself.
Vincent looked at me.
“He died twelve years ago.”
His words were calm, but something inside them was not.
“Are you certain it’s the same bracelet?”
Dominic asked.
Vincent walked to a locked cabinet at the back of the room.
He entered a code, opened the door, and removed a small wooden box.
He placed it on the desk.
Inside was an old photograph of two young men standing beside a lake.
Vincent looked nearly unrecognizable without the weight he carried now.
Beside him stood a broad-shouldered man with an easy smile.
On his wrist was a narrow silver bracelet.
The same bracelet.
I looked from the photograph to the frozen image on the monitor.
Mia’s drawing lay between them.
“Could someone have copied it?”
Dominic asked.
“Possibly,” Vincent said.
“But why?”
Vincent didn’t respond.
Instead, he reached for the photograph and turned it over.
There was a date written on the back, followed by a name.
Matteo.
Then, beneath it, in a different handwriting, were four words.
Ask what he saw.
Vincent’s fingers tightened around the photograph.
I felt the room change again.
“What does that mean?”
I asked.
He looked at me, and for the first time since I had met him, he seemed genuinely uncertain.
Before he could answer, the security phone rang.
Dominic picked it up.
He listened.
Then his eyes moved to me.
“What is it?”
Vincent asked.
Dominic lowered the receiver.
“The carriage house lock was opened from the inside.”
I felt Mia’s hand slide into mine.
Dominic continued, his voice carefully controlled.
“And whoever opened it left something on the floor beside your daughter’s bedroom window.”
Vincent’s gaze dropped to Mia.
“What did they leave?” he asked.
Dominic swallowed.
“A second photograph.”
“Of what?”
May you like
He looked directly at me.
“Of you and Mia.”
