Chapter 2 - ROOM THREE
The second scream came before anyone reached the basement stairs.
Antonio moved first.
Not Frank.
Not the two men holding him.
Antonio.
“Lucas stays here.”
The boy grabbed the back of Antonio’s jacket.
“No.”
Antonio turned.
Lucas’s face had lost all color.
“That’s my mom.”
“I know.”
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
Lucas’s chin trembled.
Antonio crouched.
“Listen to me.”
Another dull crash came from below.
Antonio’s jaw tightened.
“Your mother needs me moving fast right now.”
Lucas stared at him.
“If I’m watching you, I’m moving slow.”
The child looked toward the staircase.
Then at the black coat wrapped around his shoulders.
Antonio pointed toward his oldest friend, Carlo Vitale.
“Carlo stays with you.”
Lucas hesitated.
“Will you come back?”
The question landed harder than it should have.
Antonio touched the rosary in his hand.
“Yes.”
Then he stood.
“Frank comes downstairs.”
Frank struggled immediately.
“I told you, I don’t have—”
Antonio turned.
“Bring him.”
The basement smelled like bleach, old stone and cold air.
Bellini & Sons had been built in another era.
Long before polished marble.
Long before security cameras.
The basement hall still had thick painted walls and metal doors with narrow glass panes.
Preparation Room Three sat at the far end.
Antonio saw the problem immediately.
A wooden chair had been jammed beneath the handle from the outside.
Frank stopped walking.
Antonio looked at him.
“You locked her in.”
“No.”
“Then somebody wanted everyone to think the lock failed.”
Marco Bellini—Antonio’s older son—kicked the chair loose.
Antonio tried the handle.
Locked.
“Key.”
Frank shook his head.
“I told you—”
One of Antonio’s men pulled Frank’s key ring from his belt.
Twenty-three keys.
Frank stared at the floor.
Antonio said nothing.
Marco found the brass key marked THREE.
The lock opened.
Antonio pushed the door.
It moved six inches.
Something blocked it.
“Jenna?”
A weak voice answered.
“Help.”
Antonio shoved harder.
A metal cart scraped across the tile.
Then the door opened enough for him to enter sideways.
Jenna Reed sat against the far wall.
Early thirties.
Dark hair pulled loose from a ponytail.
Blood at one temple.
One wrist tied to a pipe with plastic zip ties.
Her cleaning uniform was torn at the shoulder.
Antonio’s entire body went still.
Beside her stood an overturned instrument cart.
No body.
No medical procedure.
Just a room somebody had used because they assumed the dead could not complain about what happened around them.
Jenna looked at Antonio.
Then whispered:
“Lucas?”
“Safe.”
She closed her eyes.
“Thank God.”
Antonio moved toward her.
“Who did this?”
She looked past him.
Frank stood in the hallway between two men.
Jenna’s face changed.
Not surprise.
Recognition.
“Don’t let him leave.”
Antonio didn’t turn.
“He’s not leaving.”
Marco cut the ties.
Jenna winced.
Her wrist was bruised.
Antonio saw it.
“How long have you been down here?”
“I don’t know.”
“An hour?”
“Maybe.”
“What happened?”
She tried to stand.
Her legs failed.
Antonio caught her by the elbow.
She flinched from contact.
He released her immediately.
“Easy.”
“I’m fine.”
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You’re not.”
Something strange passed across her face.
Almost a laugh.
Then pain.
“Lucas told you?”
“Enough to open the door.”
Jenna looked toward Frank.
Frank finally spoke.
“She broke into private files.”
Antonio turned.
“Your defense is that a cleaner deserved to be tied to a pipe?”
Frank’s face hardened.
“She was stealing.”
Jenna laughed bitterly.
“I was copying.”
Antonio looked at her.
“What?”
Jenna reached toward her waistband.
One of Antonio’s men moved instinctively.
Antonio raised a hand.
Stop.
Jenna pulled out a small flash drive.
Frank went white.
Antonio noticed.
She held it out.
“I found things in your wife’s box.”
Antonio did not take it yet.
“What things?”
“Letters.”
“Receipts.”
“An old cassette tape.”
His pulse changed.
“Cassette?”
Jenna nodded.
“And photographs.”
“Of Maria?”
“Yes.”
“With who?”
She looked at Frank.
Then back at Antonio.
“Your brother.”
Every man in the doorway went silent.
Antonio’s younger brother, Salvatore Bellini, had died four years earlier in a boating accident off Long Island.
Antonio stared.
“My brother was in Maria’s box.”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
Jenna swallowed.
“Arguing with her.”
Antonio’s face hardened.
“Photographs don’t show arguments.”
“These do.”
“How?”
“Because someone took several in sequence.”
She took a breath.
“And there was a note.”
“What note?”
“Maria wrote that Salvatore was using the funeral home to move cash and documents without your knowledge.”
Antonio stared.
Behind him, Frank made a sound.
Not quite a word.
Antonio looked back.
Frank’s face had betrayed him again.
“Interesting.”
Frank shook his head.
“Tony, she doesn’t know what she found.”
Jenna snapped:
“I know enough.”
Antonio turned back.
“What else?”
Jenna looked frightened now.
Not of Frank.
Of the answer.
“Your wife knew somebody was stealing from you.”
His jaw tightened.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“She wrote that she followed transfers from funeral accounts into shell companies.”
Antonio stared.
Maria had studied bookkeeping before they married.
For twenty years, she handled Bellini & Sons accounts herself.
After she got sick, Frank gradually took over more of the business.
Or so Antonio remembered.
“When did she write this?”
“A month before she died.”
Antonio felt cold.
Six years ago.
A month before Maria collapsed in their kitchen.
The official cause had been cardiac arrhythmia.
Unexpected.
Natural.
She had been forty-eight.
Antonio had hated God for it.
Maybe he had been angry at the wrong person.
He finally took the flash drive.
“Who tied you up?”
Jenna looked at Frank.
“Not him.”
Frank suddenly inhaled.
Antonio heard it.
“Who?”
“A man named Dennis.”
Antonio frowned.
“Dennis who?”
“I only heard Frank call him Dennis.”
Marco looked at Antonio.
Antonio knew a Dennis.
Dennis Falco.
Former city detective.
Private security fixer.
A man Salvatore had used years ago.
Antonio hadn’t seen him since Maria died.
His pulse slowed.
The dangerous calm returned.
“Where is he?”
Jenna shook her head.
“He left when someone upstairs called Frank.”
Antonio looked at Frank.
Frank’s lips tightened.
“You called him?”
“No.”
Antonio walked toward him.
“What did Jenna see too much of?”
Frank looked toward the other men.
“Tony, this is family history.”
Antonio almost smiled.
“So was my wife.”
Frank’s eyes flickered.
Antonio lowered his voice.
“If you want to survive this conversation with your dignity, stop deciding what I’m allowed to know.”
Jenna spoke behind him.
“There’s one more thing.”
Antonio turned.
She had gone pale.
“What?”
“Maria’s coat wasn’t locked in your office when I found the box.”
Antonio stared.
“Where was it?”
“Inside the basement wall.”
Nobody moved.
Jenna pointed toward a maintenance corridor beyond Room Three.
“There’s a loose panel behind the linen racks.”
“I found it when a pipe leaked.”
Antonio looked at the coat upstairs in his mind.
Maria’s coat.
Her rosary.
Hidden in a wall.
Not preserved in his office like Frank claimed.
Frank had lied about that too.
“What was with it?”
“The box.”
Jenna whispered.
“And something wrapped in the coat.”
Antonio’s chest tightened.
“What?”
She looked at him.
“A prescription bottle.”
Silence.
“What prescription?”
“I couldn’t read the label clearly.”
“Why?”
“It had been scraped.”
Antonio’s stomach dropped.
Maria had collapsed after dinner.
At the time, she had been taking medication for migraines.
Nothing else.
Jenna continued:
“But I took pictures.”
Antonio looked at the flash drive.
“On this?”
“Yes.”
“And Frank found out?”
“I think so.”
“How?”
Jenna’s face changed.
“Because yesterday someone went into my apartment.”
Antonio went completely still.
“What?”
“Nothing valuable was taken.”
“Then?”
“My laptop was moved.”
“Lucas?”
“He was at school.”
“Did you report it?”
“No.”
“Why?”
She looked at Frank again.
“Because Mr. Russo told me I was imagining things.”
Antonio slowly turned.
Frank stared at the floor.
The pattern was becoming clear.
A cleaner found an old hidden box.
A security man appeared.
Her apartment was searched.
She was threatened.
Then locked in a preparation room.
All inside Antonio Bellini’s property.
Under his name.
Using men who believed his absence gave them cover.
“Marco.”
“Yes?”
“Call Dr. Morelli.”
“For Jenna?”
“And police?”
Every man looked at Antonio.
Even Frank.
That word carried weight.
Police.
Antonio Bellini rarely invited police into anything.
Antonio saw their surprise.
“Not yet.”
He looked at Jenna.
“Medical first.”
Then at Frank.
“And nobody touches him.”
Frank laughed nervously.
“Because we’re family?”
Antonio’s eyes went cold.
“No.”
“Because I want to hear everything before anyone decides silence would be easier.”
They brought Jenna upstairs.
The second Lucas saw her, he ran.
“Mom!”
She dropped to her knees despite the pain and caught him.
Lucas buried his face against her neck.
“You came back.”
Jenna started crying.
Antonio looked away.
Then Lucas noticed the bruise on her temple.
His small face changed.
“Who did that?”
Jenna touched his hair.
“I’m okay.”
Lucas looked toward Antonio.
Children knew when adults were lying about being okay.
Antonio understood that better every minute.
Lucas pointed at Frank.
“Was it him?”
Jenna hesitated.
Antonio answered.
“We don’t know everything yet.”
Lucas stared at Frank anyway.
Then he took Maria’s coat off.
Folded it carefully.
Held it toward Antonio.
“I think this belongs to you.”
Antonio looked at the coat.
Then at the boy.
“No.”
Lucas frowned.
Antonio touched the sleeve.
“It belonged to Maria.”
He paused.
“Tonight it kept you warm.”
Lucas looked confused.
Antonio swallowed.
“Keep it until we’re done.”
Something in Jenna’s face softened.
Then the old office phone rang.
Nobody had used that line in years.
Frank went pale.
Antonio noticed immediately.
Three rings.
Four.
Antonio walked toward the office.
Picked up.
No caller ID.
“Bellini.”
Silence.
Then an older male voice.
“Antonio.”
He knew it.
Even after six years.
Dennis Falco.
Antonio’s grip tightened.
“Dennis.”
A quiet laugh.
“You should have left Maria’s things buried.”
Antonio’s face changed.
Behind him, Lucas was hugging his mother.
Frank had stopped breathing.
Antonio’s voice lowered.
“You have five seconds to tell me why my wife’s name is in your mouth.”
Dennis answered:
“Because she figured out what your brother was doing.”
Antonio stared at the wall.
“And?”
A pause.
“Then she figured out who was helping him.”
Antonio looked slowly toward Frank.
Dennis continued:
“The problem was…”
His voice became almost amused.
“…Maria trusted the wrong Bellini.”
The line went dead.
Antonio stood with the receiver in his hand.
Then Marco asked:
“Dad?”
Antonio turned.
Every man in the room watched him.
“What did he say?”
Antonio looked first at Frank.
Then at the photograph of his father hanging above the office door.
The Bellini family had spent generations believing danger came from outside.
Rivals.
Police.
Enemies.
Antonio finally understood the possibility they had never wanted to consider.
May you like
Maybe Maria had died because the enemy already had a key to the building.
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