Chapter 11 - A Dead Man With Emilio’s Name
The dead man was not Emilio.
His fingerprints identified him as Daniel Rusk, a private pilot with two arrests and no convictions.
But in his pocket were Emilio’s copied driver’s license, Emilio’s business cards, and a letter signed in Emilio’s name confessing to the theft of foundation funds.
The plan became clear in pieces.
Rafael and Vincent had never intended only to steal money.
They intended to make Emilio disappear.
Then they would leave a body damaged enough to delay identification, plant documents, and tell the world Giovanni Vescari’s son had embezzled from his own mother and fled.
Emilio read the forged confession in Giovanni’s library that afternoon.
His hands shook.
“I would have been dead before breakfast.”
Clarissa stood across the room. “That passport wasn’t for you to escape.”
He looked at her.
She continued. “It was for them to build a second identity around you. One they could use after you vanished.”
“You had it in your suitcase.”
“I found it in Rafael’s hotel room Tuesday.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“I was trying to figure out what it meant.”
“You could have said, ‘Hey, Emilio, my criminal father has a fake passport with your face on it.’”
“I was afraid you’d confront him.”
“I would have.”
“That is exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
Lucia looked between them. “Both of you have a strange definition of love.”
Neither argued.
Giovanni stood at the window watching groundskeepers prepare the family cemetery for a second funeral attempt.
Helena’s coffin had been returned under federal escort.
This time, there would be no public service.
Only family.
Lucia’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
Everyone looked at it.
Sloan, now seated near the fireplace, nodded. “Speaker.”
Lucia answered.
“Hello?”
Rafael’s voice came through.
“Lucia.”
Emilio surged forward.
Sloan raised a hand.
Lucia forced herself steady. “What do you want?”
“Your brother.”
Emilio mouthed, Me?
Rafael continued. “He has something that belongs to me.”
“What?”
“A memory card.”
Emilio frowned. “I don’t have—”
Clarissa gasped.
Everyone turned to her.
She pointed at Emilio’s suitcase near the library door.
“The sunscreen.”
Emilio stared. “What sunscreen?”
“Blue bottle. I put it in your side pocket at the hotel.”
“You hid something in my luggage?”
“It was the only way to get it off the island.”
Sloan closed her eyes briefly, as if counting to ten.
Marco opened the suitcase.
Inside the side pocket was a bottle of SPF 50.
He twisted off the cap.
A tiny memory card had been taped inside.
Rafael’s voice came from the phone.
“You see? Clarissa always was clever.”
Lucia said, “What’s on it?”
“Something that can destroy men much richer than Giovanni.”
Sloan’s expression changed.
Rafael knew she was listening.
“And Agent Sloan,” he added, “if you copy that card, three people in Manhattan will be dead before dinner.”
Sloan picked up the phone. “Threatening federal witnesses is a poor retirement plan, Rafael.”
He laughed.
“You still think this is about witnesses.”
Then his voice hardened.
“Emilio brings the card to the old Vescari cannery at six. Alone.”
Giovanni said, “No.”
Rafael heard him.
“Hello, old friend.”
“You want the card, talk to me.”
“I already spent twenty years talking to you.”
“You spent twenty years losing.”
Rafael went silent.
Then he said, “Ask your daughter where her mother’s wedding ring is.”
Lucia’s blood turned cold.
She looked toward the upstairs rooms where Helena’s personal effects had been stored.
Giovanni’s face changed.
Rafael whispered, “Six o’clock.”
The call ended.
Lucia ran upstairs.
Helena’s jewelry box was open.
The wedding ring was gone.
In its place lay a black rose and a photograph taken through the window of the Vescari estate five minutes earlier.
Someone working for Rafael was already inside the house.
The next chapters are on the left side of your screen.
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