Chapter 3 - THE CHILD’S DRAWING IN THE RAIN
“They took him.”
The words echoed off the high ceiling of the dining room.
Luca didn't shout.
He didn't throw anything.
He just became terrifyingly still.
“Who took him, Elena?”
Elena was shaking violently now.
“I don't know the men. But Richard Bellini’s driver was with them. They broke into the safe house in Wisconsin this morning. They took Leo right out of his bed.”
Luca turned to Marco.
“Lock down the estate. Nobody leaves. Call every man we have.”
Marco nodded and sprinted out of the room.
Luca looked back at his sister.
“Why didn't you call me immediately?”
“I tried!” Elena cried. “But my phone was blocked. Every time I called the house, the staff hung up on me. Vanessa told them to screen my calls.”
I felt a cold knot form in my stomach.
I remembered the strict orders we had been given a month ago.
If Elena Moretti calls, hang up. She’s harassing Mr. Moretti.
We had all believed it.
I had believed it.
“Elena,” Luca said gently, gripping her shoulders. “How did you get here?”
“I drove through the storm. I just wanted to see you. But when I got here, Vanessa was waiting on the porch.”
She looked at me.
“If this girl hadn't stayed to listen, I would have had to leave again.”
Luca slowly turned his dark eyes toward me.
I was still holding the stack of dirty plates.
My hands were trembling.
“Grace,” he said softly.
“Yes, sir.”
“Put the plates down.”
I quickly set them on the mahogany table.
He walked over to me.
He was a foot taller than I was, broad-shouldered and intimidating.
But when he looked down at me, there was no anger in his eyes.
Only a profound, desperate gratitude.
“You saved my sister’s life tonight,” he said.
“I just told the truth, sir.”
“In a house full of liars, the truth is the bravest thing a person can offer.”
He reached into his jacket pocket.
He pulled out a heavy gold money clip and tried to hand it to me.
“Take this. Go back to your apartment. Lock the door. It isn't safe for you to be in the main house tonight.”
I looked at the gold clip.
Then I looked at Elena, shivering in her wet coat, sobbing for her missing child.
I shook my head.
“I don't want your money, Mr. Moretti.”
He frowned.
“Take it, Grace. You’ve earned it.”
“I’m not taking it,” I said firmly, lifting my chin. “But I will make your sister some hot tea. She’s freezing.”
Luca stared at me.
In his world, people didn't refuse money.
And maids certainly didn't give orders.
But before he could argue, the dining room doors burst open again.
It was Vanessa.
She had broken away from the guards.
Her beautiful gown was torn at the hem. Her hair was messy.
She looked wild, panicked, and dangerous.
“Luca, you have to listen to me!” she shrieked, running toward him.
Luca stepped between her and his sister.
“I told you to get out.”
“My father will ruin you!” she screamed. “He has the photo! He has the boy!”
Luca’s expression turned lethal.
“If he harms one hair on my nephew’s head, I will burn his political career to the ground, and then I will burn him.”
Vanessa laughed hysterically.
“You can't! He’s hiding the boy where you’ll never find him!”
“Where?”
“I’ll never tell you!”
She backed away, a cruel, triumphant smile crossing her face.
“You ruined my life tonight, Luca. So I’m going to ruin yours. Say goodbye to your nephew.”
She turned to run.
But as she spun around, her designer purse caught on the edge of a dining chair.
It tipped over, spilling its contents across the hardwood floor.
Lipstick. Keys. A compact mirror.
And a folded, crumpled piece of paper.
I was closest to it.
I instinctively knelt and picked it up.
Vanessa screamed.
“Don't touch that, you filthy maid!”
She lunged at me.
But Luca grabbed her by the arm, yanking her backward with terrifying force.
“Don't ever speak to her like that again,” he growled.
He looked down at me.
“What is it, Grace?”
I unfolded the paper.
My breath caught in my throat.
It wasn't a political document.
It wasn't a ransom note.
It was a child’s drawing.
Done in bright blue and red crayons.
It showed a little boy standing next to a tall woman.
But it was the background of the drawing that made my blood run cold.
It showed a large, imposing brick building with a very specific, broken clock tower.
I knew that building.
I had grown up three streets away from it on the south side of Chicago.
“Mr. Moretti,” I whispered, staring at the crayon strokes.
He crouched beside me.
“What is it?”
I looked up into his dark eyes.
“It’s an old, abandoned orphanage. The St. Jude’s Home for Boys.”
Elena gasped behind us.
Vanessa’s face went completely pale.
“How do you know that?” Luca asked.
I swallowed hard.
“Because Richard Bellini bought the building five years ago to demolish it. But the project stalled. It’s been empty ever since.”
I looked at the child’s drawing.
“This is where they’re keeping him.”
Luca stood up.
He didn't look at Vanessa.
He looked at Marco, who had just returned to the doorway.
“Marco. Get the cars. We’re going to the south side.”
Luca looked down at me.
“Grace.”
“Yes, sir.”
May you like
“You’re coming with us.”
TITLE: THE BLOODY COAT IN THE ORPHANAGE
