Chapter 5 - THE CHILD'S DRAWING
“Who would do this?” I whispered, staring at the blue coat in Matteo’s hands.
I was a maid. I made beds. I polished silver. I had no money, no power, no enemies. Why would someone orchestrate an elaborate kidnapping and assassination plot just to frame me?
Matteo tossed the burner phone onto my small bed.
“Someone who noticed you noticing them,” Matteo said, his voice analytical, terrifyingly calm. “Bianca thought you were invisible. But whoever is pulling her strings realized you were a threat. They placed this coat here so that when Marco eventually confessed, all the evidence would point to you.”
Answer One: The true mastermind used Bianca to plant the poison, Marco to deliver it, and me to take the fall.
But Open Two: If Marco was blackmailed, why did Bianca agree to poison Matteo?
“We need to find the little girl,” I said, looking at the blue coat. “If Marco fails to kill you tonight, they’ll kill Mia.”
Matteo ran his thumb along the pocket of the blue coat. He felt something stiff inside.
He reached in and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
He opened it.
It was a child’s drawing, done in colorful crayons.
It depicted a small girl standing next to a massive, strange-looking structure made entirely of glass panes. Next to the glass structure was a tall, dark clock tower.
“Mia must have drawn this right before she was taken, or while she was being moved,” Matteo muttered. He stared at the glass structure. “What is this? A greenhouse?”
I stepped closer, studying the crude crayon strokes. I looked at the dark clock tower in the background.
My breath hitched.
“It’s not just any greenhouse, sir.”
Matteo looked at me. “You recognize it?”
“Yes,” I said, pointing to the specific jagged shape of the glass roof. “That’s the old Romano floral conservatory on the edge of the estate grounds. The one your father built for your mother. It’s been abandoned for ten years. But from the back window, you can see the town hall clock tower perfectly. That’s what she drew.”
Reversal: The kidnapped child wasn't locked away in some distant warehouse. She was being held right here. On the Romano estate. Under Matteo’s own nose.
Matteo’s eyes darkened with a fury that made my skin crawl. He pulled his radio from his belt.
“Vince. Leave Marco in the basement. Gather three men. Meet me at the old conservatory.”
Matteo turned to leave the room, but he stopped and looked back at me.
“Stay here, Natalie. Lock the door.”
“No,” I said firmly.
I didn't know where the courage came from. Maybe it was the fact that someone had tried to frame me for a child’s murder. Or maybe it was because, for the first time in my life, I refused to be invisible.
“I know the conservatory better than your guards,” I said. “I clean the exterior pathways every week. There are tripwires and old bear traps in the tall grass. You’ll make too much noise. I can guide you to the back entrance.”
Matteo stared at me. For a long, tense moment, I thought he was going to fire me on the spot.
Instead, he reached into his jacket, pulled out a small, heavy silver pistol, and handed it to me.
“Safety is off,” he said. “Stay behind me.”
We moved silently across the sprawling estate. The night was pitch black, the moon hidden behind thick storm clouds. The wealthy guests were still locked in the dining room, guarded by Matteo’s men.
We reached the edge of the woods. The old floral conservatory loomed in the darkness like a massive glass skeleton. The windows were cracked, overgrown with ivy.
I led Matteo and Vince down a narrow, hidden deer path, avoiding the rusted traps hidden in the weeds. We reached the rusted back door of the greenhouse.
Matteo signaled Vince.
Vince kicked the door open.
They rushed in, flashlights cutting through the humid, stagnant air of the dead greenhouse.
“Clear!” Vince shouted.
I stepped inside.
In the center of the room, sitting on a dirty blanket, was a little girl with blonde curls. Mia. She was crying, her hands tied with zip ties, but she was alive.
Matteo holstered his weapon and knelt beside her, cutting the plastic ties with a pocket knife. “You’re safe now, Mia. Nobody is going to hurt you.”
I let out a massive sigh of relief. We found her.
But as I stepped further into the greenhouse, the beam of my flashlight caught something resting on an old, rotting wooden table in the corner.
It was a small, velvet jewelry box.
It was open.
I walked over to it.
Resting on the velvet was a stunning, antique pearl necklace.
Matteo looked over his shoulder. When he saw what I was looking at, all the color drained from his face.
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Reversal: The mastermind didn't leave a clue by accident. They left a message.
“That necklace,” Matteo whispered, standing up slowly, his eyes wide with horror. “I buried my mother in that necklace fifteen years ago.”
