Chapter 5 - THE TICKET
The phone kept ringing.
ELIAS MORETTI.
Adrian stared at the caller ID, his chest rising and falling in shallow, jagged movements. For a second, the mafia boss was gone. In his place was a younger brother, haunted by a ghost that had just dialed his bedroom.
“Pick it up,” I urged, my voice barely a whisper.
Adrian reached out. His hand was trembling. He picked up the receiver and pressed it to his ear. He didn’t say hello. He just breathed.
I stood close enough to hear the faint, tinny voice bleeding through the speaker.
“Did you check the safe, little brother?”
It wasn't Elias. The voice was rougher, scarred by cigarettes and time.
Adrian’s eyes narrowed, the fear instantly burning away into pure rage. “Michael.”
“Surprised?” Michael Ferris chuckled dryly. “I kept the old phone. Figured it might come in handy for nostalgia.”
“Where is he?” Adrian demanded, his voice dangerously low.
“Where’s the boy, or where’s the fiancée?” Michael asked. “Because I have both. And I have your ledger. You have nothing, Adrian. Just an empty house and a lot of dead ghosts.”
“Name your price,” Adrian said without hesitation. “You want the downtown territory? It’s yours. You want cash? It’s wired. You touch one hair on my nephew’s head, and there isn't a hole deep enough for you to hide in.”
Michael laughed again, but there was no humor in it. “I don't want your money. I want you to step down. Publicly. I want you to hand the family over to the rightful heir. And since the kid is underage… I’ll be stepping in as his proxy.”
A power grab. Using a child as a puppet.
“Where are you?” Adrian asked.
“You know where. Where it all started.”
The line clicked dead.
Adrian slowly lowered the phone. “Where it all started,” he repeated, his eyes distant.
“Does he mean the bridge? Where Elias died?” I asked.
“No.” Adrian shook his head. He looked around the torn-apart room, his eyes landing on the empty safe. “Michael didn't orchestrate this tonight. This has been planned for weeks. Which means he must have left a breadcrumb. Something in this house.”
“The library,” I said suddenly.
Adrian looked at me.
“Earlier this week,” I explained, the memory rushing back. “I was dusting the private library. Vanessa came in. She was frantic. She was tearing through Elias’s old books. The ones you keep on the bottom shelf.”
Adrian didn't wait. He bolted from the bedroom, racing down the hall to the grand library. I followed as fast as my injured shoulder would allow.
When I caught up, Adrian was on his knees in front of a massive oak bookcase. He was pulling down leather-bound volumes, flipping them open, shaking them by the spines.
“Which book was she looking at?” he barked.
I scanned the mess of books on the floor. “The blue one. The copy of The Count of Monte Cristo.”
Adrian snatched it up. He opened it. The center pages had been hollowed out. Inside the cutout square lay a single, faded object.
He pulled it out. It was a vintage ferry ticket. Dated twelve years ago. The destination was stamped in red ink: NAVY PIER TERMINAL 4.
Adrian stared at the ticket. “Terminal 4. That’s an abandoned shipping warehouse. My father used to own it.”
“Why would Vanessa hide a twelve-year-old ferry ticket inside a book?” I asked, leaning closer.
Adrian turned the ticket over. On the back, written in faded blue ink, were two words.
Brake lines.
A sudden, horrifying realization washed over Adrian’s face. He stumbled back, dropping the book.
“Elias didn't die in an accident,” Adrian whispered, his voice cracking. “His brake lines were cut. And whoever cut them took this ferry ticket that night to escape the city.”
“Michael Ferris,” I said. “He vanished the night Elias died. He must have taken the ferry.”
“No.” Adrian shook his head, a violent reversal shifting his entire reality. “Michael was Elias’s best friend. He wouldn't have killed him. But someone else stood to gain everything if Elias died.”
He looked up at me, his eyes wide with a horrific truth.
“Vanessa.”
“She killed him?” I breathed, stepping back. “But she was just a college student twelve years ago.”
“A college student who was obsessed with my brother,” Adrian said, his voice turning to ice. “Elias rejected her. A week later, his car goes off a bridge. A year later, she starts dating me. She manipulated her way into this family, and she kept this ticket as a trophy. Or blackmail.”
“And Michael knows,” I said. “That’s why he’s back.”
“We’re going to the pier,” Adrian said, grabbing his gun and the ticket.
“I’m going with you,” I said, stepping in front of him.
“No. It’s too dangerous.”
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“I can identify Michael’s voice,” I insisted. “I was the one he attacked. I know his mannerisms. If he’s hiding in the dark, I’ll know it’s him before you do.”
Adrian hesitated, then gave a sharp nod. “Stay close.”
