Chapter 2 - THE TRUTH ABOUT ANTHONY’S HEART
Anthony didn’t look at his father.
He looked at his own hands.
The room was completely silent except for the faint hum of the disconnected CPAP machine.
Dominic Russo stepped toward his son.
“What is she talking about, Anthony?”
Anthony swallowed hard.
“I don’t know.”
“Don’t lie to me.” Dominic’s voice wasn’t a yell. It was a low, terrifying rumble. “My mother just said that sabotaged machine was meant for you. Why?”
Anthony finally looked up.
His eyes were red.
“Because I have the same heart condition Uncle Robert had.”
Margaret let out a sharp gasp, covering her mouth.
Dominic froze.
“When were you diagnosed?”
“Three months ago,” Anthony whispered. “My heart wall is thickening. The doctors said I needed respiratory support at night to keep the strain off my ventricles. I ordered a CPAP machine.”
I looked at the clear plastic insert resting in the evidence bag.
“But you didn’t use it,” I said.
Anthony shook his head.
“I couldn’t. I was afraid.”
He looked at his father.
“You were already so sick, Dad. The businesses were vulnerable. If the other families found out the Russo heir had a failing heart, they would have made a move. So I hid the diagnosis. And I hid the machine in the storage room.”
Margaret stepped forward, her hands trembling.
“The storage room,” she repeated. “Where I found the replacement supplies.”
“Exactly,” I said, the pieces clicking together in my mind. “Whoever sent those tampered supplies thought Anthony was the one using the machine. They wanted him to die in his sleep. Just like Robert.”
Dominic’s face turned to stone.
He turned to the security chief.
“Trace that phone call. Find my mother. Now.”
“Sir, the call bounced off three different cell towers. It’s a burner phone.”
Before Dominic could explode, I noticed something.
“Wait.”
I walked over to the old medical files we had brought from the abandoned clinic.
I flipped to the page with the photograph of the four people.
Dominic. Robert. Margaret. Dr. Elliot Kane.
I looked closely at Dr. Kane’s wrist in the picture.
He was wearing a very distinct, heavy gold pocket watch.
“Margaret,” I said. “When Anthony’s CPAP supplies arrived at the house… who signed for the delivery?”
Margaret blinked, confused by the sudden change in subject.
“I did.”
“Did you see the courier?”
“Yes. It was an older man.”
“Did you notice anything about him?”
Margaret thought for a second.
Then her eyes widened.
“He checked the time. He wasn’t wearing a wristwatch. He pulled a gold pocket watch out of his coat.”
Dominic stared at his sister.
“Dr. Kane is dead, Margaret. I saw the coroner’s report twenty-two years ago.”
“Coroners can be bought, Dominic,” Anthony said quietly. “Our family bought three of them in the nineties.”
I looked at Dominic.
“If Dr. Kane is alive, and he’s the one trying to kill your son… why?”
Dominic didn’t answer.
He walked over to the mahogany dresser in the corner of the room.
He pulled open the bottom drawer and removed a small, locked cedar box.
He broke the clasp with his bare hands.
Inside was a stack of letters.
And resting on top of them was a heavy gold pocket watch.
Identical to the one in the photograph.
Dominic picked it up.
The glass face was cracked.
May you like
Dried blood stained the gold casing.
“Because twenty-two years ago,” Dominic said, his voice completely devoid of emotion, “I’m the one who started the fire that killed him.”
