Chapter 6 - THE RED DOOR
The heavy rain hammered against the roof of the armored SUV.
“Who has access to your room, Mom?” I asked, gripping her hand. “Who could have taken that drawing?”
My mother shook her head, tears welling up again. “Anyone on the staff. The housekeepers, the guards. But I always locked my door.”
Luca threw the SUV back into gear, his jaw set like stone.
“We aren’t going to the safe house,” he said, taking a sharp turn that threw me against the leather seats. “We’re going to the clinic. I need to see that drawing.”
When we arrived at Dr. Vance’s private clinic, the building was surrounded by Luca’s men. The glass front doors were shattered.
Luca led us inside, his gun drawn.
The clinic was a mess. Medical cabinets were tipped over, and papers blanketed the linoleum floor. In the back office, the massive wall safe had been blown open, the metal twisted and scorched.
Dr. Vance lay on the floor near his desk.
Marco, Luca’s captain, stepped aside and handed Luca a clear plastic evidence bag.
Inside was the crayon drawing.
I stared at it. It was unmistakably mine. The crooked sun in the corner, the disproportionate flowers, and the bright red door. I remembered making it for my mother on Mother’s Day.
“Why would the killer take this from your room and leave it here?” Luca asked, studying the paper.
“It’s a message,” I said softly.
“To say they can get to us whenever they want,” my mother added, her voice barely a whisper.
Luca turned the evidence bag over.
“Wait,” he said.
He unsealed the bag and pulled the drawing out. He held it up to the harsh fluorescent lights of the office.
“Sarah,” Luca said. “Did you draw anything on the back of this?”
I frowned. “No. It was blank.”
Luca turned the paper around so I could see.
On the back of the drawing, written in fresh, smeared blood, were three numbers.
4 - 1 - 9
“He wrote this before he died,” Luca murmured. “Vance left a clue.”
“What is 419?” Marco asked. “An area code? A bank pin?”
My mother gasped, taking a step backward. She bumped into the overturned desk.
“Mary?” Luca asked, immediately catching her arm. “You know what it is.”
“It’s not a code,” she said, her voice shaking with terror. “It’s a room number.”
“Where?”
“At the old St. Jude’s Orphanage,” she whispered. “The one that burned down fifteen years ago.”
Luca frowned. “Why would Vance point us to a burned-down orphanage?”
My mother looked down at the floor, unable to meet our eyes.
“Because before I came to work for your father,” she confessed, her voice breaking, “I had another child.”
The room fell into a dead silence.
I stared at the woman who had raised me, feeling like I didn’t know her at all.
“You had another child?” I asked, my voice cracking. “I have a brother or sister?”
My mother began to weep openly.
“It was before I met Antonio,” she sobbed. “I was sixteen. I couldn’t care for a baby. I gave him up to St. Jude’s. He was in room 419. I checked on him every year until the fire. They told me he died in the blaze.”
Luca’s eyes widened as the pieces began to snap together in his mind.
“He didn’t die,” Luca said slowly.
He walked over to the blown-open safe and started shifting through the remaining burnt papers. He pulled out a half-scorched medical file and slammed it onto the desk.
“Vance was the doctor on call for that orphanage,” Luca said, reading the file. “He falsified the death certificates from the fire. He took the healthy children and sold them to wealthy families who couldn’t conceive.”
My mother cried out, covering her mouth with her hands.
“Who bought him?” I demanded, rushing to the desk.
Luca stared at the scorched file, his face draining of all color.
“The Bellinis,” Luca whispered.
I felt the air leave my lungs.
“Roberto Bellini couldn’t have a son,” Luca explained, pacing the room. “He only had Vanessa. He needed a male heir to secure his power within the Commission.”
He looked at my mother with wide, horrified eyes.
“Your son didn’t die, Mary. He was raised by the man who murdered my father.”
Before anyone could speak, Marco’s radio cracked to life.
“Boss, we got a problem outside. Black SUVs pulling up. Lots of them.”
Luca ran to the window and peered through the blinds.
“It’s Roberto Bellini,” Luca said, racking the slide of his gun. “And he’s brought an army.”
Then, the heavy front doors of the clinic swung open.
Footsteps echoed down the hallway. Slow, deliberate footsteps.
A tall man stepped into the doorway of the office. He was dressed in a tailored black suit, holding an umbrella dripping with rainwater.
He looked at my mother.
And smiled.
“Hello, Mother,” said the man.
May you like
It was Luca’s most trusted captain.
Marco.
