Chapter 4 - THE CHILD'S CRAYON DRAWING
The crystal chandeliers seemed to dim as the weight of the little girl’s words settled over the dining room.
“The dark room?” Alessandro repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.
He didn't move. He stayed perfectly still on one knee, his large hands gently gripping his daughter’s small shoulders.
“Mia,” Alessandro said, fighting to keep his tone completely level so he wouldn't frighten her further. “When did she lock you in a dark room?”
Mia sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. “When you went to Chicago for work. The nanny went to the store. The scary lady said I was making too much noise with my blocks.”
My heart shattered. I looked at Vanessa.
The beautiful, elegant woman in the red silk gown looked as though she was about to collapse.
“Alessandro, she’s a child,” Vanessa stammered, her voice shrill with panic. “She has an overactive imagination! She gets confused—”
“Shut your mouth,” Alessandro commanded, without even looking at her.
The raw venom in his voice made Vanessa snap her mouth shut.
Alessandro gently took the crumpled piece of paper from Mia’s trembling hand. He smoothed it out against his knee.
I stepped closer, my eyes catching the bright, chaotic lines of the crayon drawing.
It depicted a tall woman with blonde hair, wearing a red dress. She was standing in a hallway. And in her hands, she was holding a massive, heavy gray coat.
“What is this, sweetheart?” Alessandro asked gently.
“It’s the coat,” Mia whispered, pointing a tiny finger at the paper. “The one from the closet upstairs. The lady takes things out of it when you aren't looking. Shiny things.”
Alessandro slowly stood up.
He looked at the drawing, then at the silver bracelet resting on the dining table. The bracelet that belonged to his dead sister.
The pieces were coming together in a horrifying, impossible puzzle.
“Thomas,” Alessandro said, his voice dead flat.
The attorney stepped forward quickly. “Yes, Mr. Vitale?”
“Take the guests to the west wing. Have the staff serve dessert there. Nobody leaves the estate until I say so.”
The twenty-eight wealthy guests didn't need to be told twice. Chairs scraped loudly against the hardwood. Within sixty seconds, the dining room was completely empty, save for Alessandro, Mia, Patricia, Thomas, Vanessa, and me.
Alessandro turned to me.
“Claire. Take Mia upstairs. Stay with her in her bedroom. Lock the door.”
“Yes, sir,” I said immediately.
I walked over and scooped the little girl into my arms. Mia buried her face in my neck, her small body trembling against my apron. I held her tight, whispering soothing words as I carried her toward the grand staircase.
But as I reached the bottom step, Mia pulled her head back.
“Claire,” she whispered in my ear.
“It’s okay, Mia. You’re safe.”
“No,” she insisted, pointing toward the end of the long, shadowed hallway. “The coat. It’s in the closet by the library.”
I stopped.
I looked back toward the dining room. Through the open doors, I could see Alessandro advancing on Vanessa, his expression terrifying in its coldness. Thomas was standing nervously by the fireplace.
I looked down the hallway toward the library.
If Vanessa had stolen Elena’s bracelet, and if she was hiding other “shiny things” in a coat...
“Okay, Mia,” I whispered, making a decision that could cost me my job, or worse. “Show me.”
I carried her down the hall, away from the stairs. We reached the heavy oak doors of the library. Just outside was an antique cedar closet used for winter garments.
I set Mia down gently. She grabbed the brass handle and pulled the door open.
The closet smelled of cedar and old wool.
Hanging in the very back, shrouded in a plastic garment bag, was a massive, men’s gray wool coat. It was severely outdated, thick and heavy.
“That one,” Mia pointed.
I stepped into the closet. I unzipped the plastic bag and ran my hands over the thick wool. It felt perfectly normal.
“Where did she take things from, Mia?” I asked quietly.
Mia stepped closer, reaching down toward the very bottom hem of the coat. “Here. She cuts it with tiny scissors.”
I knelt down.
I ran my fingers along the bottom seam of the heavy coat.
Mia was right. The stitching had been undone in several places and crudely sewn back together.
I pressed my hand against the lining.
Deep inside the fabric, hidden between the wool and the silk interior, I felt a hard, heavy lump.
My breath caught in my throat.
I didn't have scissors. I grabbed the loose thread of the crude stitching and pulled hard. The seam ripped open with a loud tear.
I reached my hand into the dark lining.
My fingers brushed against cold, heavy metal.
I pulled it out.
It was a pocket watch.
Solid gold, intricately engraved, attached to a broken gold chain. It was tarnished, covered in a dark, dried substance that looked horrifyingly like old blood.
I stared at it, my heart pounding in my ears.
Suddenly, heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.
“Claire!” Alessandro’s voice boomed. “I told you to take her upstairs!”
He appeared in the hallway, his face flushed with anger. He stopped when he saw me kneeling in the closet, holding the gold pocket watch.
All the blood drained from his face for the second time that night.
He walked slowly toward me, his eyes locked on the object in my hands.
“Where did you find that?” Alessandro whispered, his voice trembling.
“In the lining of the coat, sir,” I said, handing it to him.
Alessandro took the watch. His large hands shook as he traced the intricate gold engraving on the front cover.
“Mr. Vitale?” I asked softly. “Whose watch is it?”
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Alessandro looked up at me, his eyes filled with a ghost from a past he had tried to bury.
“It belonged to the man who murdered my father,” Alessandro said.
