Chapter 2 - THE ROOM UNDER THE CHAPEL
Gabriel did not ask whether his mother was certain.
He bent, picked up the brass key from the marble floor, and closed his hand around the faded strip of blue leather.
Then he looked at Sofia.
“Where did you get this?”
Sofia’s face had gone pale, but her voice stayed controlled.
“I can explain.”
“You can explain downstairs.”
The engagement dinner ended without anyone being formally dismissed.
It didn’t need to be.
Twenty guests sat frozen beneath the chandeliers while Gabriel crossed the dining room and offered his mother his hand.
Elena stood.
Sofia didn’t move.
Neither did I.
Then Elena turned toward me and signed.
COME WITH ME.
Sofia saw it.
“No.”
Gabriel looked at her.
She swallowed.
“I mean Hannah doesn’t belong in this. This is family.”
Elena’s hands moved sharply.
SHE SPEAKS TO ME.
That landed harder than anything Sofia had said all evening.
I translated quietly.
Gabriel’s jaw tightened.
“Hannah comes.”
Five minutes later, the four of us were walking through the rear corridor toward the private chapel attached to the Romano house.
I had cleaned the chapel dozens of times.
Small room.
Dark wooden pews.
White candles.
A marble statue of the Virgin near the altar.
I had never known there was anything underneath it.
Elena stopped beside the first pew and pointed toward a narrow door disguised in the paneling.
Gabriel stared at it.
“You knew?”
Elena nodded.
He looked almost offended.
“This was here when we were children?”
Another nod.
Gabriel pushed the door open.
Stone steps descended beneath the chapel.
It wasn’t some underground dungeon from the stories people told about families like the Romanos.
It looked older than that.
A family memorial room.
Brick walls.
Two wooden cabinets.
An iron wardrobe.
A narrow cot covered by a gray sheet.
And enough dust to prove nobody had spent much time there lately.
Sofia stopped halfway down the stairs.
“I never came down here.”
Elena turned.
LIAR.
Sofia’s face tightened.
“I found the door. That isn’t the same thing.”
Gabriel held up the blue key.
“And this?”
Sofia said nothing.
He crossed to the iron wardrobe.
The key fit.
That frightened me more than if it hadn’t.
The lock turned with a heavy click.
Inside hung one coat.
A man’s dark navy overcoat.
Old-fashioned.
Broad through the shoulders.
Gabriel touched the sleeve.
His expression changed.
“Daniel’s.”
Elena closed her eyes.
For one second she wasn’t Mrs. Romano.
She was simply a mother standing beside something that still smelled, perhaps only in her memory, like her son.
Gabriel reached into the coat.
The first pocket was empty.
The second held a wristwatch.
Steel case.
Black leather strap.
Cracked crystal.
Gabriel stared at it.
“He wore this every day.”
Sofia stepped forward.
“That’s what I was looking for.”
Gabriel turned.
“You knew it was here?”
“No.”
“But you knew it existed.”
“My father told my mother something before he disappeared from Boston. She told me years later.”
Gabriel’s eyes hardened.
“What?”
Sofia glanced at Elena.
“That Daniel’s watch survived the night Daniel supposedly didn’t.”
Silence.
Gabriel opened his hand.
The watch had stopped at 2:17.
Elena touched his arm.
Then she pointed toward the bottom of the wardrobe.
There was a small cardboard box.
Gabriel lifted it onto the cot.
Inside were three things.
A rosary with dark wooden beads.
A hospital identification bracelet.
And a Polaroid photograph.
Gabriel picked up the bracelet first.
He read the date.
Then read it again.
His brother’s name was printed across the faded plastic.
DANIEL ROMANO.
The date was the morning after Daniel had supposedly died.
Gabriel sat slowly on the edge of the cot.
“No.”
Elena’s eyes filled.
He looked up at her.
“You let me bury an empty casket.”
Her hands trembled.
Gabriel didn’t need me to translate the first sign.
I’M SORRY.
But then he looked at me anyway.
“Tell me everything she says.”
I nodded.
Elena signed.
DANIEL WAS BROUGHT HERE AFTER TWO IN THE MORNING.
“By who?”
Elena paused.
Sofia stared at her.
So did I.
Elena continued.
HE WAS HURT.
BADLY.
BUT ALIVE.
Gabriel looked at the hospital bracelet.
“Then where did this come from?”
A PRIVATE DOCTOR.
“Who?”
Elena shook her head.
“He’s dead?”
She nodded.
Gabriel stood abruptly.
“Who brought Daniel here?”
Elena didn’t answer.
Instead, she pointed at the Polaroid.
Gabriel picked it up.
The picture had faded around the edges.
Daniel was sitting on the cot behind us.
Younger than Gabriel was now.
Bruised.
A bandage crossed his temple.
But unmistakably alive.
The photograph had been taken beneath the chapel.
And Daniel wasn’t alone.
A second man stood beside him.
Sofia made a sound like her breath had caught.
“My father.”
I looked closer.
The man was in his early fifties.
Heavy dark coat.
Silver at his temples.
One hand resting on Daniel’s shoulder.
Gabriel’s voice dropped.
“Enzo Bellini.”
For nine years, every member of the Romano household had been taught the same story.
Enzo Bellini had betrayed Daniel.
Enzo had arranged the meeting that ended in Daniel’s death.
Enzo had fled Boston because he knew the Romanos would come for him.
Sofia stepped toward the picture.
“That’s why I came into Daniel’s room.”
Gabriel looked at her.
She held his gaze.
“When my mother died, I found half of a photograph in her jewelry box. My father was standing in this room beside Daniel. I didn’t know where this room was. I didn’t know Daniel survived.”
“You could have told me.”
“And you would have believed me?”
Gabriel said nothing.
Sofia gave a bitter little smile.
“That’s what I thought.”
Elena suddenly touched the rosary in the box.
Then she signed.
ENZO SAVED DANIEL.
Sofia’s chin trembled.
She recovered quickly.
Gabriel didn’t.
“All these years…”
He looked at Sofia.
“Your father wasn’t responsible?”
Sofia’s voice was barely audible.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to prove.”
For the first time since dinner, I saw something in her besides arrogance.
Grief.
Not clean grief.
Not innocent grief.
But old grief.
The kind that had hardened into bad decisions.
Gabriel looked back at the photograph.
“Then who hurt Daniel?”
Elena sat on the cot.
Her hands rested motionless in her lap.
Gabriel crouched in front of her.
“Ma.”
She looked at him.
He spoke slowly, knowing she could read his lips.
“Who did this to my brother?”
Elena finally raised her hands.
THE MAN WHO SENT DANIEL TO PIER NINE.
Gabriel waited.
I waited.
Sofia stopped breathing.
Then Elena signed the next sentence.
YOUR FATHER KNEW HIS NAME.
Gabriel went completely still.
His father, Anthony Romano, had been dead six years.
For Gabriel, he had been the one man whose decisions were never questioned.
The man who taught him loyalty.
Family.
Silence.
Gabriel looked at the photograph again.
Then something occurred to him.
“Who took this picture?”
Elena’s eyes moved toward the stairs.
Slowly, she signed.
YOUR FATHER.
Gabriel stared at her.
And Elena added one final sentence.
May you like
HE WAS IN THIS ROOM WHILE DANIEL WAS STILL ALIVE.
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