Chapter 3 - The Locket From The Grave
The silence in the study was absolute. Gabriel stared at the melted silver locket in his palm, his chest rising and falling in erratic, shallow breaths.
His wife, Elena, had died of a sudden illness two years before the lake house fire. I knew this because Mrs. Donnelly had warned me never to mention her name. Elena had been buried in the family mausoleum, wearing this exact piece of jewelry.
“How?” Gabriel whispered, his thumb tracing the scorched metal. “How did Lucy get this?”
“She must have gone to the mausoleum, sir,” Mrs. Donnelly said softly. “Before the trip to the lake.”
“But the mausoleum is sealed. Only Michael and I have the keys.” Gabriel stood up, his chair scraping violently against the hardwood. “Michael. He gave her the locket. Why?”
Buddy let out a low, rumbling growl.
I looked down. The old golden retriever wasn’t looking at Gabriel. He was staring at the doorway.
A man stood there, dressed in a sharp navy suit, holding an umbrella dripping rainwater onto the expensive Persian rug. He looked exactly like Gabriel, only younger, with sharper features and eyes that held absolutely no warmth.
Michael Santoro.
“I heard Vanessa crying in the driveway,” Michael said smoothly, stepping into the room. He glanced at the computer screen, then at the locket in Gabriel’s hand. His expression didn’t change. “I see Mrs. Donnelly finally grew a conscience.”
Gabriel moved so fast I barely saw it. In a second, he had crossed the room and pinned his brother against the doorframe, his forearm pressed against Michael’s throat.
“You burned my daughter’s house down,” Gabriel snarled, his voice vibrating with a grief so deep it terrified me.
Michael didn’t fight back. He just smiled, a thin, cold line. “I didn’t start the fire, Gabe. I was trying to put it out.”
“You’re holding a gasoline can!”
“Because I took it away from the person who actually poured it,” Michael choked out, his eyes locking onto Gabriel’s.
Gabriel loosened his grip, just a fraction. “Who?”
“Elena,” Michael whispered.
Gabriel froze. “Elena is dead. She died two years before the fire.”
“Did you see her body go into the casket, Gabe?” Michael asked, his voice dripping with twisted sympathy. “Or did you just take the hospital’s word for it when they told you her heart stopped?”
Gabriel stumbled backward, dropping his hands.
“She was sick, Gabriel. In her mind,” Michael said smoothly. “She faked it. She paid the doctors. She wanted to disappear, but she came back for Lucy. She gave Lucy the locket. She started the fire to cover their tracks so they could run away together.”
It was the most insane thing I had ever heard. But Gabriel was reeling, desperate for any explanation that didn’t involve his brother murdering his child.
Buddy whined again, leaning heavily against my leg. I knelt to stroke his ears to calm him down. As I did, my fingers brushed against his thick, leather collar.
I frowned. There was a stiff, unnatural bulge sewn into the lining of the leather.
“Mr. Santoro,” I interrupted, my voice shaking. “There’s something inside Buddy’s collar.”
Michael’s eyes snapped toward me. For the first time, his arrogant mask slipped. “Don’t touch that dog, you old bat.”
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He reached inside his suit jacket, pulling out a dark, heavy handgun.
TITLE: The Secret In The Collar
