Chapter 5 - The Ticket For The Midnight Train
“Dead?” I echoed, the flashlight trembling in my hand.
“She died in a car crash in Italy. I attended the funeral myself,” Luca said. He took the diamond bracelet from my hand, his thumb tracing the engraved name.
He looked around the dusty basement.
“If Isabella is dead, how did her bracelet get into my son’s coat pocket?”
“Maybe it’s a fake,” I suggested. “Maybe Vanessa had it made?”
“No.” Luca shook his head. “This is a custom piece. My grandfather had it made for her. It has a hidden clasp.”
He pressed a tiny, almost invisible button near the diamonds. The bracelet popped open.
Inside the hollow gold band was a tiny, tightly rolled piece of paper.
Luca carefully extracted it and unrolled it.
We both leaned in to look under the flashlight beam.
It was a train ticket.
Union Station. Platform 4. Chicago to Montreal. Departure: 1:30 AM.
I checked my cheap watch.
It was 1:10 AM.
“The train leaves in twenty minutes,” I gasped.
“Someone is trying to smuggle my son out of the country,” Luca said, his voice dropping to a terrifying calm.
He didn’t hesitate. He grabbed my hand and we ran back up the church stairs, out into the pouring rain, and jumped into the SUV.
The tires screamed on the wet pavement as Luca sped toward downtown Chicago.
“Luca,” I said, clutching the dashboard. “If your aunt has been dead for ten years, who is doing this? Who is Vanessa working for?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, his jaw tight. “But my father’s empire was built on secrets. Thomas Reed was his enforcer. If Thomas took my son six years ago, he did it to protect him from someone inside my own family.”
We reached Union Station with eight minutes to spare.
The massive, echoing halls were mostly empty at this hour. We sprinted down the grand marble staircase toward the lower concourse.
“Platform 4!” Luca shouted, pointing toward a dark tunnel.
We ran down the corridor. The smell of diesel fuel and old steel filled the air.
A long silver train sat idling on the tracks.
And standing near the boarding steps, under the flickering fluorescent lights, were three men in dark coats.
One of them was holding a gun.
Standing behind them was a tall woman in a black trench coat.
And holding her hand was a little boy.
He had dark hair, pale skin, and Luca’s eyes.
Leo.
Next to the boy, kneeling on the concrete platform with his hands zip-tied behind his back, was my father.
“Dad!” I screamed, unable to stop myself.
The men turned. The one with the gun raised it.
Luca shoved me behind a thick concrete pillar just as a bullet sparked off the stone.
“Stay here,” Luca commanded. He pulled his weapon from his jacket.
“Well, well,” the woman in the trench coat called out. Her voice echoed off the tunnel walls. “Luca Moretti. You always were too smart for your own good.”
Luca stepped out slightly from behind the pillar.
“Isabella.”
I peeked around the corner.
The woman stepped into the light. She looked older than the paintings, her hair streaked with silver, a long scar running down the side of her neck.
“Hello, nephew,” she smiled.
“You’ve been hiding for ten years,” Luca said, his gun aimed steadily at her chest. “Let the boy go.”
“I can’t do that,” Isabella sighed. “As long as he breathes, he is the true heir to the Moretti throne. I faked my death to build my own army. Vanessa was foolish enough to think she was in control. She paid me the blackmail money, thinking I was just a mercenary.”
Isabella laughed. “She didn’t realize I was funding my return.”
“You won’t make it onto that train,” Luca said.
“I think I will,” Isabella replied. She pressed the barrel of a small pistol against Leo’s shoulder.
The little boy flinched, but he didn’t cry. He looked remarkably brave for a six-year-old.
My father struggled against his zip-ties. “Isabella, leave the kid out of this! You want a war, fight Luca!”
“Shut up, Thomas,” Isabella snapped. “You betrayed my brother by stealing this brat.”
“I saved him from you!” my father roared.
Suddenly, a loud whistle blew. The train was preparing to depart.
Isabella grabbed Leo’s arm. “Time to go.”
“No!” I screamed, running out from behind the pillar.
“Emma, stop!” Luca yelled.
One of the guards aimed at me.
But before he could pull the trigger, the train doors behind Isabella slid open with a hiss.
Someone stepped out of the train car.
A young man holding a heavy steel wrench.
My brother, Tommy.
He swung the wrench, catching the armed guard in the back of the knees.
The man collapsed.
In the chaos, my father threw his weight backward, knocking into Isabella’s legs.
She stumbled, dropping Leo’s hand.
“Run, Leo!” my father shouted.
The little boy bolted toward us.
Luca caught him, sweeping his son into his arms for the first time in his life.
Isabella recovered, raising her gun toward Luca and the boy.
But she didn’t fire.
Because someone else walked out of the shadows at the end of the platform.
Vanessa.
May you like
And she was holding a gun pointed directly at Isabella.
TITLE: The Coat Stained With Old Blood
