Chapter 3 - THE SILVER BRACELET
Mara stared at the photograph.
“Why me?”
Nobody answered quickly enough.
She looked at Vincent.
“Daniel sent this to you two hours ago and you said nothing?”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
“I thought it was some kind of joke.”
“A joke?”
“He drinks. He gets dramatic.”
Tessa snapped, “He circled Mara’s face.”
“I can see that.”
“And you didn’t think maybe mention it?”
Vincent’s voice rose.
“I had ninety reservations coming through those doors.”
Mara laughed once.
It contained no humor.
“Of course.”
Vincent looked at her.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means this place catches fire and you’d ask whether the dining room could still seat at seven.”
Gabriel stepped between them.
“Enough.”
He held out his hand.
“Phone.”
Vincent hesitated.
Gabriel didn’t repeat himself.
Vincent surrendered it.
The message had been sent at 3:58.
Fourteen minutes before Mara first noticed the bottle.
Daniel knew she would notice.
That bothered her more than the red circle.
“How?” she whispered.
Gabriel heard.
“How what?”
“How did Daniel know I’d be involved?”
Tessa frowned.
“Maybe he saw you checking the bottle.”
“No.”
Mara shook her head.
“He texted before I touched it.”
Gabriel looked at the timestamp.
She was right.
Mara replayed Monday afternoon.
At 3:58 she had been searching for linen napkins.
Then she remembered Daniel passing her outside the wine room.
He had stopped.
Asked whether she was serving table twelve.
At the time, it had seemed ordinary.
“He asked me if I was serving you.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.
“When?”
“About fifteen minutes before I saw the bourbon.”
“So he knew the bottle was for me.”
“Yes.”
“And knew you would handle it.”
“Yes.”
Tessa whispered, “Maybe he wanted you to find it.”
The thought landed heavily.
Vincent shook his head.
“That makes no sense.”
“Actually,” Mara said, “it might.”
She looked again at Daniel’s message.
DON’T LET MARA LEAVE WITH MORETTI.
Not don’t let Moretti drink it.
Not call police.
Not destroy the bottle.
Protect Mara.
Daniel had been afraid for her.
“Maybe Daniel didn’t tamper with it.”
Vincent stared.
“He literally carried the box inside.”
“Yes.”
“But we never saw what he did after that.”
Gabriel understood first.
“You think he intercepted it.”
“Maybe.”
“Why disappear?”
“Because whoever sent it knows he did.”
Tessa rubbed her arms.
“So Daniel’s not the traitor.”
“I didn’t say that.”
Mara handed Vincent his phone.
“I said we don’t know.”
Gabriel’s attention shifted to the bracelet.
“You’re certain it was Daniel?”
Mara nodded.
“His daughter made it.”
Vincent looked surprised.
Mara continued.
“Silver chain, little blue bead beside the clasp.”
“You noticed that?”
“He talks about his daughter every Tuesday.”
Daniel Cross was divorced.
His eleven-year-old daughter, Sophie, stayed with him Monday and Tuesday nights.
Every Tuesday Daniel arrived exhausted because Sophie refused to sleep unless he checked beneath her bed for monsters even though she was eleven and loudly insisted she didn’t believe in monsters.
Mara remembered Daniel laughing about it.
The bracelet had been Sophie’s Christmas present.
“Where does he live?” Gabriel asked.
Vincent gave the address.
Mara immediately said, “His daughter.”
Gabriel looked at her.
“She might be there.”
Marcus had returned from arranging protection for Caleb.
“I’ll send someone.”
Mara shook her head.
“No strangers around a frightened kid.”
Marcus stared.
“You want to go?”
“Yes.”
Gabriel answered.
“No.”
Mara turned toward him.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“Somebody marked your face in a photograph.”
“Daniel may have been warning Vincent to keep me away from you.”
“Exactly.”
“So I should find out why.”
Gabriel stepped closer.
“You think stubbornness becomes safer if you explain it calmly?”
“No. I think your employees probably nod when you say something unreasonable.”
Tessa covered a cough.
Gabriel looked at Mara for a long moment.
Then he said, “We all go.”
Daniel’s apartment sat above a bakery in Lincoln Square.
The front door was unlocked.
That scared Mara immediately.
Daniel locked everything.
He once made three servers search the Halcyon wine cellar for forty minutes because someone had left a cabinet open.
Marcus entered first.
The apartment showed no obvious signs of violence.
Lamp on.
Television muted.
Half-eaten pizza on the coffee table.
A backpack beside the couch.
Then Mara heard crying.
Small.
Controlled.
Trying not to be heard.
“Sophie?”
The sound stopped.
Mara moved toward the bedroom.
Marcus caught her arm.
“Wait.”
“She knows me.”
“Mara.”
“I’m not going to drag a child out from under a bed with three strange men watching.”
Gabriel gave Marcus a small nod.
Marcus released her.
Mara entered alone.
“Sophie?”
Nothing.
She crouched beside the bed.
“I’m from your dad’s work.”
A pair of terrified brown eyes appeared behind a hanging blanket.
“Mara?”
Her heart tightened.
“Yes.”
Sophie crawled out.
Eleven years old.
Oversized Chicago Cubs sweatshirt.
Bare feet.
Daniel’s silver bracelet wrapped twice around her wrist.
Mara held out both hands.
“Where’s your dad?”
Sophie shook her head.
“Gone.”
“When?”
“A while.”
“Did somebody take him?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happened?”
“He told me to hide.”
Gabriel remained in the doorway, making himself quiet.
Sophie looked at him.
“Who’s that?”
“My friend.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows moved slightly.
Mara ignored him.
Sophie whispered, “Dad said don’t trust people from the club.”
“Did he say who?”
“No.”
“Did anyone come here?”
Sophie nodded.
“A man.”
“What did he look like?”
“Old.”
To an eleven-year-old, that could mean forty.
Mara tried again.
“Older than your dad?”
“Yes.”
“Hair?”
“Gray.”
“What was he wearing?”
“A nice coat.”
Gabriel glanced toward Marcus.
Half Chicago again.
Sophie reached beneath the mattress.
“Dad gave me this.”
She removed a folded paper cocktail napkin.
On it, Daniel had drawn three rectangles.
A bottle.
A freight container.
A restaurant tray.
Beneath them he had written:
SAME HANDS.
Mara stared.
“What does that mean?”
Sophie shook her head.
“Dad said you’d understand.”
“I don’t.”
“He said, ‘Tell Mara to think about the broken glasses.’”
Mara’s stomach tightened.
Broken glasses.
Three weeks earlier, Halcyon had received six cases of French stemware.
Two cases arrived cracked.
Not shattered.
Cracked in identical places near the stems.
Mara had complained to Daniel.
He had blamed the shipping company.
Moretti Freight.
Gabriel saw it in her face.
“What?”
“Your company delivered glassware here three weeks ago.”
“Yes?”
“Two cases were damaged.”
“That happens.”
“Not the way these were.”
She stood.
“The outer boxes were perfect.”
Marcus frowned.
“So the glasses were broken before shipping.”
“No.”
Mara shook her head.
“They were repacked.”
Gabriel’s gaze sharpened.
“How do you know?”
“Because whoever repacked them used restaurant towels between the layers.”
Silence.
Not warehouse padding.
Restaurant towels.
Halcyon towels.
Daniel had noticed too.
SAME HANDS.
Someone inside the club was using Moretti shipping routes.
And somebody inside Moretti’s network was using the Halcyon Club.
The two operations touched.
Sophie tugged Mara’s sleeve.
“There’s more.”
She pointed toward Daniel’s coat hanging behind the bedroom door.
“Dad said if he didn’t come back, check the pocket Mommy always forgets.”
Mara removed the coat.
Inside the normal pockets, nothing.
Then Sophie pushed her hand through a small tear in the lining.
She pulled out a brass freight seal.
Gabriel took it.
His expression changed immediately.
“Where did he get this?”
Marcus recognized it too.
“Moretti seal.”
Stamped M-718.
Gabriel looked at Marcus.
“Which terminal?”
Marcus’s face hardened.
“South Yard.”
Mara didn’t understand.
“Is that bad?”
Gabriel turned the seal over.
“South Yard handles pharmaceutical shipments and high-value bonded freight.”
Daniel had a security seal that should never have left that facility.
Then Sophie reached into the torn lining again.
This time she removed a photograph.
Daniel.
Vincent.
And a third man standing outside the Halcyon loading dock six months earlier.
Gabriel went completely still.
Mara looked at him.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
Gabriel’s answer was barely above a whisper.
“My uncle.”
Marcus’s face changed.
“Anthony Moretti.”
Mara looked between them.
“What does he have to do with South Yard?”
Gabriel stared at the photograph.
“He designed its security system.”
Sophie pointed at the man beside her father.
“That’s who came tonight.”
Everyone froze.
Gabriel crouched so he was closer to her height.
“My uncle was here?”
Sophie nodded.
“He told Dad to fix what he started.”
“What did your father say?”
Sophie swallowed.
“He said he already had.”
Gabriel’s voice softened.
“Then what?”
“He gave Dad a little black box.”
“What box?”
Sophie pointed toward the kitchen.
They found it inside the freezer beneath a bag of peas.
Black metal.
Small enough to fit in one hand.
Mara recognized it before Gabriel did.
Not because she knew freight.
Because she knew restaurants.
“That’s a temperature recorder.”
Marcus looked at her.
“You’re sure?”
“We put them in specialty seafood deliveries.”
Gabriel opened the casing.
Inside was a memory card.
And one handwritten label.
HALCYON — SIX DAYS.
Mara looked at him.
Six days.
The gala was scheduled for Sunday.
Six days from that moment.
The night from the opening.
May you like
The night Gabriel would step in front of a bullet meant for her.
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