Chapter 6 - The Girl In The Shadows
The air in the cellar turned to ice in my lungs. Gabriel stared at the paper plate, then at Michael, his mind fracturing under the weight of the impossible.
“You’re insane,” Gabriel breathed. “We buried her. We buried my daughter.”
“You buried ashes and debris, Gabe,” Michael said gently, as if explaining something to a child. “The dental records? I paid the coroner. I’m the one who handles the family’s… quiet expenses. You know that.”
Buddy let out a sharp bark and ran toward a heavy canvas curtain hanging across the back wall of the cellar. He shoved his nose under the fabric, his tail wagging so hard his entire back half shook.
Gabriel dropped the flashlight. It hit the concrete floor with a clatter, rolling to illuminate the bottom of the curtain.
Behind the fabric, a pair of small, worn sneakers was visible.
“Lucy?” Gabriel’s voice was a shattered, desperate prayer. He stumbled forward, grabbing the edge of the heavy canvas.
He ripped it back.
A girl stood there. She was older now, around sixteen, her dark hair long and unkempt. She wore a faded oversized sweater, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. But she had Gabriel’s eyes. She had Elena’s chin.
It was Lucy.
Gabriel collapsed to his knees on the hard concrete. He didn’t try to touch her; he just stared, tears streaming down his face, his hands hovering in the air as if he were afraid she was a ghost that would vanish if he reached out.
“Lucy,” he sobbed. “My God. My baby.”
Lucy didn’t run to him. She looked terrified. She pressed her back against the damp stone wall, her eyes darting between Gabriel and Michael.
“Don’t yell at him, Daddy,” she whispered, her voice raspy from disuse. “Uncle Michael said if I leave, the bad men will kill you.”
Gabriel let out a sound of pure agony. He turned toward his brother, murderous rage replacing the shock.
But Michael already had his gun out again, this time pointed squarely at Lucy’s chest.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Michael tutted, stepping backward toward the stairs. “Don’t ruin it, Gabe. We were doing so well. She’s been safe here. I’ve been taking care of her while you were busy playing mob boss.”
“You kept my daughter in a cage for five years,” Gabriel snarled, rising to his feet. “You stole her life.”
“I saved her life!” Michael screamed, his composure finally breaking. “Elena was going to take her to Europe! She was going to steal the only pure thing left in this family! So I handled Elena at the lake house, and I brought Lucy here to protect her!”
I looked at Lucy. She was staring at Buddy, who was sitting happily at her feet, oblivious to the danger.
“Mr. Santoro,” I whispered to Gabriel, my voice barely audible. “The key.”
Gabriel glanced at me, confused.
“The bank key from the collar,” I mouthed.
Michael hadn’t seen the key. He didn’t know what was in the safe deposit box. But if Elena had planned to run away to Europe, she wouldn’t have left just money. She would have left evidence.
Suddenly, Lucy reached into her pocket. She pulled out a small, folded piece of paper. It looked like a child’s drawing.
“Uncle Michael,” Lucy said softly. “You said Mommy burned in the fire because she was clumsy. But Mommy didn’t start the fire.”
She unfolded the paper and held it up. It wasn’t a drawing. It was a printed photograph.
A second photo from the disposable camera.
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And this one clearly showed Michael striking a match, with Elena lying unconscious on the floor behind him.
TITLE: The Man With The Match
