Chapter 2 - THE SINS OF THE FATHER
“Your father.”
Eddie Nolan’s words dropped into the dining room like a live grenade.
Nobody gasped this time. Nobody whispered.
The silence was absolute, heavy, and suffocating.
Dante didn’t turn his head.
He didn’t look at Camille. He didn’t look at Sarah.
He slowly turned his gaze down the long, crystal-covered table to the opposite end.
Sitting there, holding a crystal tumbler of scotch with a perfectly steady hand, was Carmine Caruso.
Seventy-one years old.
Silver hair. Tailored black suit.
The patriarch of the Caruso family.
Carmine took a slow sip of his drink. He placed the glass back on the linen tablecloth.
He didn’t look angry. He looked disappointed.
“Eddie,” Carmine said, his voice gravelly and calm. “You always did talk too much when you were sober.”
Dante took a step toward his father.
“Is he telling the truth?”
“Yes,” Carmine said simply.
Camille let out a strangled sob, covering her face with her hands.
Sarah stood frozen, her eyes wide with a horror that had been buried for six years.
“You followed Daniel,” Dante said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, terrifying whisper.
“Why?”
“Because he was making a mistake,” Carmine answered, finally looking at his eldest son.
“He was leaving the gala with a woman who wasn’t his wife. A woman who was trying to extort this family.”
He pointed a thick finger at Camille.
Camille shook her head violently. “No! I loved him! I was trying to help him!”
“You were blackmailing him,” Carmine corrected coldly.
He reached into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
He pulled out a heavy, tarnished silver money clip.
He threw it down the length of the table. It slid across the polished wood and stopped right in front of Dante.
Sarah gasped.
“That’s Daniel’s.”
“It is,” Carmine nodded. “I took it from Camille’s hotel room the night Daniel died. After I watched her drag him out of her car.”
Dante stared at the silver clip.
“Drag him out?”
Carmine leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table.
“Daniel was drunk, Dante. He realized Camille was setting him up. They fought in the car. She pulled over near the river, and she left him there. In the rain. On the side of the road.”
Camille backed away from the table. “He told me to get out! He took the wheel!”
“He could barely stand,” Carmine snapped.
He looked back at Dante, his eyes hard.
“I followed them to protect my son. But by the time I got to the river road, it was too late. I found the car wrapped around the oak tree.”
Dante’s breathing was shallow.
“If you were there... why didn’t you call an ambulance? Why did you cover it up?”
Carmine’s face turned to stone.
“Because Daniel wasn’t in the driver’s seat when the car crashed, Dante. He was in the passenger seat.”
The room spun.
I gripped the back of an empty chair to steady myself.
“What?” Dante whispered.
“He was in the passenger seat,” Carmine repeated.
He looked directly at Camille.
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“Daniel didn’t drive that car into the tree. Someone else did. And then they walked away, leaving my son to bleed to death.”
TITLE: The Blood On The Glass
