Chapter 4 - THE POLAROID BENEATH THE FLOORBOARDS
“Why does Marco have a picture of you, Emily?”
Luca’s voice was steady, but his eyes searched mine with intense scrutiny. The chaos of the dining room below felt miles away. It was just the two of us, Michael, Anna, and little Leo on the landing.
I stared at the Polaroid. The edges were yellowed with age. My mother looked so young, her hair tied in a loose ribbon, standing on the stoop of the apartment I still paid rent for.
“I… I don't know,” I stammered, my hands trembling. “I’ve never seen this picture in my life. My mother never knew the Moretti family. She worked as a seamstress.”
“A seamstress,” Luca repeated quietly. He turned the photo over.
On the back, written in faded black ink, were three words:The Insurance Policy.
“Oh my god,” Anna gasped, clutching Leo tighter. “Sophia. Luca, we have to find Sophia!”
“We will,” Luca said fiercely. “Enzo is already pulling the security footage from the back gates. Marco won't get far. He needs the waterfront permits signed over to him entirely, and he needs Michael’s confession to do it. He’s using Sophia as leverage.”
Michael looked like he was dying from the inside out. “I’ll sign anything. I’ll go to prison. Just get my daughter back.”
“You aren’t going to prison,” Luca swore. “I protect my family.”
He looked back at me. “Emily. Marco didn't drop this photograph by accident. Marco doesn't make mistakes. If he dropped this, it’s because he wanted me to find it. He wanted me to know you are connected to this.”
“But I’m not!” I cried, tears spilling hot down my cheeks. “I’m just a maid! I took this job because the agency assigned me here. I swear on my life, Mr. Moretti.”
Luca stepped closer. The wine Vanessa had thrown at me was still sticky and cold on my uniform, but Luca didn’t seem to care. He reached out and gently took my trembling hands in his.
“I believe you,” he said softly. The warmth of his hands was startling against my cold skin. “But someone placed you in this house for a reason. And Marco knows what it is.”
A sudden, sharp realization hit me. A reversal of everything I had assumed about my life.
“The agency,” I whispered.
Luca frowned. “What about it?”
“My mother lost her job eleven months ago,” I said, the pieces clicking together with horrifying speed. “The medical bills were piling up. We were going to be evicted. Out of nowhere, a premium staffing agency contacted me. They said I had been highly recommended. They paid triple the standard rate. They specifically assigned me to the Moretti estate.”
Michael looked up. “Marco oversees all household staffing. He insists on vetting everyone for security reasons.”
Luca’s jaw hardened. “Marco brought you into this house. He paid for your mother’s bills to ensure you would stay. You were his insurance policy.”
“Insurance for what?” I asked, terrified.
“That’s what we are going to find out,” Luca said.
Enzo came jogging up the stairs, his breathing heavy. “Boss. Security cameras show Marco’s town car leaving the east gate five minutes ago. But he’s not alone. Dominic Bellini is in the passenger seat.”
Vanessa, who had crept to the bottom of the stairs, let out a choked sob. “My father? He left with Marco?”
“They’re working together,” Luca said coldly. “Vanessa, your father just helped kidnap my four-year-old niece.”
“I didn't know!” Vanessa screamed, collapsing onto the bottom step. “I swear, Luca! He just told me to ruin the marriage! He didn't say anything about taking a child!”
Luca ignored her. He turned to Enzo. “Track the car’s GPS.”
“They disabled it,” Enzo said. “But we have a trace on Marco’s burner phone. It just pinged a cell tower near the old Southside shipping docks.”
“The waterfront,” Michael realized. “The development site.”
“Get the cars ready,” Luca ordered. He turned to Michael. “Stay here with Anna and Leo. Lock down the panic room.”
“I’m coming with you,” Michael argued.
“No. If things go wrong, your family needs you. I will bring Sophia back.” Luca’s voice brooked no argument.
He started down the stairs, but stopped and looked back at me.
“Emily. Come with me.”
I froze. “Me? Sir, I can't fight—”
“Marco speaks in a Neapolitan dialect when he deals with the dock workers,” Luca said. “It’s heavy slang. Enzo can’t translate it perfectly. You can. I need you.”
I thought of my mother. I thought of the photograph. I thought of little Sophia, terrified in the dark.
I nodded, pulling off the stained white apron and leaving it on the banister. “I’m ready.”
We rushed out to the driveway. The rain had started to fall, slicking the black pavement. Two black SUVs were waiting, engines roaring.
Luca opened the passenger door for me. As I climbed in, my foot brushed against something under the seat.
I reached down and pulled it out.
It was a child's drawing. Crayon on construction paper. It belonged to Sophia. She drew pictures in the kitchen while I washed dishes.
But this wasn't a picture of a house or a dog.
It was a drawing of a man with a scary face, holding a crying girl. And at the bottom, written in messy, uneven letters by a child just learning the alphabet, was a single word.
May you like
EMILY.
Sophia hadn’t drawn a monster. She had drawn a warning.
