What He Pulled From The Velvet Clutch

I froze, staring at the small, rectangular piece of cardstock on the rug.

Chicago to Montreal.

Departed: Thursday, 11:45 PM.

Passenger: Robert Reed.

My father’s name.

I slowly lowered Leo back onto the leather sofa, tucking a blanket under his chin. Then I knelt and picked up the ticket.

My fingers brushed the perforated edge. It had been punched by a conductor. Someone had boarded that train.

I looked up at my mother. Her face had gone completely pale.

“Mom,” I whispered, holding the ticket out. “What is this?”

She swallowed hard, looking toward the door to make sure we were alone. Luca stood near the desk, watching us with a sharp, calculating gaze.

“Emma, please,” she said, her voice shaking. “Give that to me.”

“It’s dated yesterday,” I said, stepping back. “You told me Dad was murdered ten years ago. You just stood in this room and told Luca that his father had Dad killed!”

“I lied,” she confessed, a tear slipping down her cheek.

Luca stepped forward, his posture instantly rigid. “You lied about a hit ordered by my father?”

“I had to!” my mother cried. “Marco thought Robert was dead. The whole family thought he was dead! If Marco knew he was alive, he would have hunted him down. I had to maintain the story.”

My head spun. “Dad is alive? Where has he been for ten years?”

“Hiding,” she said softly. “In Canada. He sends me a train ticket once a year, just as proof of life. He doesn’t call. He doesn’t write. Just the ticket.”

“Why?” I demanded, the anger finally bubbling up through the exhaustion. “Why did he abandon us?”

Luca’s dark eyes narrowed. “Because he didn’t just witness my sister’s murder, did he, Mrs. Reed?”

My mother looked at the floor.

“No,” she whispered.

“What did he do?” I asked.

My mother finally looked at me, her eyes filled with ten years of exhaustion.

“When Marco ran Luca’s sister off the road, she didn’t die instantly,” my mother explained. “Your father pulled over to help her. She was trapped in the burning car. She knew she wasn’t going to make it.”

Luca stopped breathing. “He spoke to her?”

“She gave him something,” my mother said. “She knew Marco was coming back for the pocket watch. But she didn’t trust the watch anyway. She had something else. Something she told your father to take and hide.”

“What?” Luca demanded.

My mother reached into the collar of her blouse.

She pulled up a thin, silver chain.

Hanging from the chain was a child’s locket.

“A necklace,” my mother said. “She told your father to give it to her son. To Leo.”

Answer one: My father went into hiding to protect a final gift from Luca’s dying sister.

Open two: Why was a child’s locket so dangerous that a man had to abandon his family for ten years?

Luca stepped closer, his eyes locked on the silver locket.

“Open it,” he commanded gently.

My mother unclasped it and handed it to him.

Luca popped the tiny silver latch.

He stared inside.