Chapter 8 - THE SAFETY DEPOSIT BOX
“A lock?” Gabriel asked, gently pulling away from Sofia and standing up. He walked over to where I was kneeling beside Vincenzo.
“Look,” I pointed to the tiny keyhole on the side of the silver casing. “This watch doesn’t wind. The casing is hollow.”
Marcus knelt on the other side of Vincenzo. He grabbed the old man’s wrist, inspecting the watch. He pulled a small pocket knife from his trousers and carefully pried at the seam near the keyhole.
With a sharp click, the face of the watch popped open like a locket.
Inside wasn't clockwork.
It was a tiny, intricately cut brass key.
“A safety deposit key,” Marcus muttered, extracting it with two fingers. He looked at the serial number stamped on the side. “First National Bank of Boston.”
The pieces rapidly locked together in my mind.
“The train ticket,” I said quickly, pulling the crumpled Amtrak ticket from my pocket and handing it to Gabriel.
Gabriel stared at the names. Elena and Sofia. Montreal.
“She was leaving,” Gabriel whispered, the pain evident in his voice. “She was running away from me.”
“No,” I said gently. “She was running away from this. From Vincenzo. From the life. She knew Vincenzo would never let her walk away if she had those ledgers. But the ledgers in that diary aren't the real ones, are they?”
Marcus shook his head slowly. “No. Vincenzo looked at them too fast. Elena was smart. She wouldn't keep the actual proof in a child's bedroom. The diary was a decoy. A map.”
“To the bank,” Gabriel realized.
“She hid the real evidence in a safety deposit box,” I said. “And she kept the key hidden inside a custom watch she had made. A watch she gave to Vincenzo as a gift to keep it hidden in plain sight, or a watch she stole from him.”
“Vincenzo realized she had the key,” Marcus added. “That’s why he was on the stairs that night. He wasn’t looking for the rosary. He was demanding the key. And when she refused to give it to him... he pushed her.”
Gabriel stared at the tiny brass key in Marcus’s hand.
He had spent two years believing his wife slipped in a drunken haze. Two years blaming himself for not being there. Two years letting a parasite like Celeste raise his daughter.
He closed his eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath.
When he opened them, the Mafia boss was entirely gone. Only a devastated father remained.
He looked at me.
“You saved my daughter,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You saved my family.”
“I just listened to her,” I said softly.
Police sirens began to wail in the distance, growing louder by the second. The explosion at the gates had finally drawn the authorities.
Gabriel looked at Marcus. “Get Vincenzo out of here. Take him to the warehouse. He doesn't get the luxury of a police cell. The family will deal with him.”
Marcus nodded, hauling the unconscious old man over his broad shoulder. “What about Celeste?”
Gabriel looked toward the library, where Celeste was still cowering in the corner.
“Let the police have her,” Gabriel said coldly. “She’s an accessory to murder. She’ll spend the rest of her life in prison.”
The heavy wooden doors of the mansion began to pound.
“Boston Police! Open up!”
Gabriel turned to me.
“Rachel.”
“Yes?”
“When they come in, they’re going to ask a lot of questions. I need you to take Sofia upstairs. Pack her bags. Pack yours too.”
I blinked, stunned. “Mine?”
“We’re leaving,” Gabriel said, picking Sofia up in his arms. She rested her head on his shoulder, exhausted. “Vincenzo was right about one thing. I need to step away from this empire. It killed my wife. I won't let it touch my daughter.”
He looked deeply into my eyes.
“Sofia needs someone who actually sees her. Someone who isn't afraid of the dark, or of me. Will you come with us?”
I looked at Sofia. She lifted her head, extending a small, tired hand toward me.
May you like
I took it.
“Yes,” I said.
