Chapter 5 - The Boy in the Blue Jacket
I didn't think. I just threw the deadbolt and pulled the glass door open.
The October wind bit into my skin.
The little boy took a frightened step back, his sneakers scraping against the frost-covered stone.
"It's okay," I whispered, dropping to my knees so I was at his eye level. "You don't have to be afraid. Come inside, it's freezing."
He hesitated, his teeth chattering uncontrollably.
Then he stepped over the threshold into the warmth of the kitchen.
I quickly shut and locked the door behind him.
Up close, he looked exactly like the photograph in Vanessa's locket.
But he was impossibly thin, and his cheek bore a faint, fading bruise.
"Where did you come from?" I asked softly, grabbing a warm towel from the dryer in the laundry room and wrapping it around his small shoulders.
He didn't answer. He just held out the torn piece of paper.
I took it.
It was a custom-printed receipt from an upscale bakery in Chicago.
Moretti Estates. Delivery Address.
He had followed a bakery truck. Or found the receipt and walked.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" I asked.
"Leo," he whispered. His voice was hoarse.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
Vanessa had lied. She didn't have him locked away in a private facility waiting for a ransom.
She had lost him.
He had run away.
"Leo, I'm Rachel. I'm going to get you something to eat, okay? And then I need to wake up the man who owns this house. He's your uncle."
Leo's eyes widened in panic.
He grabbed my apron strings, his small fists clenching tight.
"No! Don't tell the bad lady! She said she would lock me in the dark again!"
"The bad lady isn't here," I promised, smoothing his messy hair. "She's in the guest house. You are safe."
I quickly poured him a glass of warm milk and grabbed a plate of leftover engagement dinner rolls.
He ate like he hadn't seen food in days.
While he ate, I quietly pressed the emergency intercom button on the wall.
"Daniel," I whispered.
There was a crackle, then the security chief's alert voice.
"Rachel? What is it?"
"Come to the kitchen. Quietly. And bring Mr. Moretti. Do not let anyone else see you."
Two minutes later, the kitchen doors swung open.
Luca walked in, still wearing his trousers and a wrinkled dress shirt, followed by Daniel.
When Luca saw the boy sitting on the stool, he stopped dead in his tracks.
All the air seemed to leave the room.
Leo froze, dropping his roll. He shrank back against the counter, terrified of the towering men.
Luca slowly sank to one knee.
His hands were trembling.
"Antonio," he breathed, staring at the boy's green eyes.
It was like looking at a ghost.
"His name is Leo," I said softly. "He found his way here."
Daniel immediately checked the perimeter cameras on his tablet.
"Boss, he must have slipped through the wrought-iron gate where the caterers were loading out. He's incredibly small."
Luca didn't look at Daniel. He kept his eyes on Leo.
"Hello, Leo," Luca said, his voice softer than I had ever heard it. "I'm Luca. I'm your uncle."
Leo stared at him, clutching the warm towel tighter.
"Are you going to give me back to Auntie Clara?"
Luca's jaw tightened.
"No. Never. You are a Moretti. This is your home."
Leo looked down at his sneakers.
"She told me my daddy was a bad man. She said he left me because I was naughty."
A single tear slipped down Luca's cheek.
He reached out, tentatively, and placed a hand over Leo's small fingers.
"Your daddy was the best man I ever knew," Luca said fiercely. "He loved you before you were even born. And he would be so proud of how brave you are."
Leo sniffled, finally looking up.
"Then why did the bad lady push him?"
The kitchen went dead silent.
Daniel slowly lowered his tablet.
Luca's hand froze on Leo's fingers.
"What did you say?" Luca whispered.
Leo pointed a trembling finger toward the grand hallway, where the family heirlooms were displayed in illuminated glass cabinets.
"Daddy had that silver necklace," Leo said, his voice small but clear. "The one with the cross. Auntie Clara took it from his neck after she pushed him in the water."
My stomach turned to ice.
Antonio's death wasn't a boating accident.
He was murdered.
"Leo," Luca said, his voice cracking. "You were just a baby when your daddy died. How could you remember that?"
Leo reached into the pocket of his thin blue jacket.
"I didn't see it," the boy said. "I heard it."
He pulled out a heavy, antique gold pocket watch.
It was tarnished and dented, but I recognized the Moretti family crest engraved on the front.
"The nice nurse at the first place gave this to me," Leo explained, handing it to Luca. "She said my mommy hid it in my blanket before she went to heaven. She said I had to keep it secret."
Luca took the watch. His hands were shaking so badly he nearly dropped it.
He pressed the release latch.
The face of the watch popped open.
But there was no clock face inside.
The gears had been hollowed out.
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And sitting inside the empty casing was a tiny, black microcassette tape.
TITLE: The Voice From the Grave
