Chapter 6 - THE COAT IN THE HALLWAY CLOSET
“Danny!” Marissa shrieked, spinning around in pure panic.
The living room was empty. The back door, which led to the servant’s corridor, stood slightly ajar, a cold draft blowing through.
“I’ll find him,” I promised, grabbing the fire poker from the floor. “Lock this door behind me, Marissa.”
I slipped through the back door, listening to the heavy click of the deadbolt securing the room behind me.
The servant’s corridor was dark, illuminated only by the faint moonlight filtering through the high windows. The air smelled of rain and old wood.
I crept silently down the hall, my heart pounding so hard I thought it would burst.
“Danny?” I whispered, terrified of drawing the wrong kind of attention.
I heard a small, muffled sob coming from the grand foyer at the end of the hall.
I moved faster, pressing my back against the wall.
When I peered around the corner into the foyer, my blood ran cold.
Frank Caruso was standing by the front doors.
The elderly man looked terrified, completely out of his depth. He was holding a silver revolver, his hand shaking violently.
And standing in front of him, clutching the fabric of Frank’s heavy wool winter coat, was Danny.
The boy hadn’t run away. He had gone looking for the man who used to bring him candy on Sundays.
“Uncle Frank,” Danny cried softly. “Why are you holding a gun?”
Frank looked down at the boy. For a terrifying second, I saw genuine regret in the old man’s eyes. But it was quickly swallowed by a desperate, cowardly instinct to survive.
“I’m sorry, Danny,” Frank choked out, pointing the gun at the boy’s chest. “I didn’t want it to come to this. But if I don’t take you with me, Luca will kill me.”
“Let him go, Frank!”
The voice echoed from the top of the grand staircase.
Luca stood on the landing, his pistol aimed directly at Frank’s head. His face was a mask of lethal fury.
Frank panicked, grabbing Danny by the shoulder and dragging him behind his body as a human shield.
“Don’t take another step, Luca!” Frank screamed, his voice cracking. “I’ll shoot him! I swear to God I’ll shoot him!”
“You pull that trigger, Frank, and I will spend a week taking you apart,” Luca growled, walking slowly down the marble stairs.
“You don’t understand!” Frank wept. “I had to do it! Michael was going to ruin me! He found the ledgers! I spent thirty years building this family’s wealth, and your father was going to throw me out on the street!”
“So you cut the brakes on my brother’s car,” Luca said, his voice deadly quiet.
“He forced my hand!” Frank shouted.
I was standing in the shadows, less than ten feet behind Frank. He had no idea I was there.
I needed a distraction.
I looked at the heavy brass coat rack standing next to the hallway closet.
I didn’t hesitate.
I grabbed the heavy wool coat hanging on the end and threw it with all my might, directly over Frank’s head.
The heavy fabric draped over him, blinding him for a crucial second.
Frank shouted in surprise, his arms flailing to pull the coat off.
“Run, Danny!” I screamed.
Danny ducked, slipping out of Frank’s grasp and sprinting toward the stairs.
Luca didn’t shoot. He rushed forward, tackling Frank to the marble floor.
The silver revolver clattered away, sliding across the polished stone.
Luca pinned the old man down, his forearm pressed brutally against Frank’s throat.
“It’s over, Frank,” Luca breathed, his eyes completely void of mercy.
Frank gasped for air, his face turning purple. He wasn’t fighting anymore. The coward had finally realized he had lost.
But as Frank lay pinned to the floor, coughing violently, he reached into his pocket.
Luca grabbed his wrist, twisting it hard.
A small, glossy object slipped from Frank’s fingers and landed face-up on the marble floor.
It was a photograph.
I walked over, my legs shaking, and picked it up.
I looked at the image, and the air completely left my lungs.
It wasn’t a picture of Michael’s car. It wasn’t a ledger.
It was a photograph of Vanessa, standing in a dimly lit alleyway.
But she wasn’t handing money to a hitman. She wasn’t plotting a murder.
She was handing a thick envelope of cash to the chief of the Chicago police department.
And written on the back of the photograph, in Vanessa’s elegant handwriting, was a single sentence:
May you like
The raid happens tonight; keep Danny safe.
TITLE: The Photograph In The Firelight
