Chapter 8: Brody at the Gate
He was still there.
Two hours after Sal had delivered Lorenzo's message, Brody Callahan was sitting in a rented car outside the estate's main gate, engine running, heater on, a coffee cup in the cupholder that had long gone cold.
Lorenzo reviewed the camera footage for another thirty minutes before he made any decisions.
There were 41 files.
He watched the most recent 12.
That was enough.
Then he called a man named Vincent, who was the Moretti family's lead attorney and who answered his phone on the first ring regardless of the time or the weather.
"I need you on a call now," Lorenzo said.
"I'm sending you a secure link.
There are video files.
I need you to tell me what we can use and what we need to preserve."
"Give me twenty minutes," Vincent said.
He gave him fifteen.
Then he went downstairs and told Sal to bring Brody inside.
Nora did not know this was happening.
She was still in room 4B with Giovanni, and Lorenzo had made a deliberate decision not to tell her until it was over.
Brody came in from the cold stamping snow from his boots, rubbing his hands together.
He was younger than Lorenzo had expected — mid-to-late twenties, sandy-haired, with the easy, practiced look of someone who had spent a long time learning how to appear unconcerning.
He looked around the foyer with visible interest and no visible embarrassment.
"Mr.
Moretti," he said, extending his hand.
"I appreciate you seeing me."
Lorenzo did not take the hand.
"Sit down."
They sat in the small reception room off the foyer.
Brody's easy manner adjusted slightly — recalibrated, not abandoned.
"I'm going to be direct with you," Brody said.
"I know how this looks.
Me showing up like this.
But I have a right to know about my child, and Nora—"
"How did you know she was here?" Lorenzo asked.
Brody's eyes shifted slightly.
"I have my ways.
We had mutual friends."
"Nora has no connections to this county.
She moved here specifically because she didn't.
Which means someone with access to estate employment records gave you her location." Lorenzo watched him.
"Was it Mrs.
Gable?"
Brody's easy manner slipped exactly one notch.
He recovered it quickly.
"I don't know anyone by that name."
"She called a contact two days ago.
That contact reached you.
You arrived here within forty-eight hours." Lorenzo leaned forward.
"I don't care about your relationship with Nora.
That's between you and her, and she's already made her feelings on that subject clear.
What I care about is why Mrs.
Gable wanted you here."
"I don't know what you're—"
"What did she offer you?"
Brody went quiet.
Lorenzo let the silence sit.
"She said," Brody started, then stopped.
He looked at his hands.
The easy manner was gone now.
What was underneath it was younger and less certain.
"She said there was a situation developing at the estate.
That a girl — that Nora — was trying to use her pregnancy to take advantage of the family.
She said if I came and asserted my rights as the father, it would complicate things for Nora.
Make her look unstable.
Make her easier to dismiss."
"She wanted you to undermine Nora's credibility."
"She made it sound like I was protecting my rights."
"What did she offer you in return?"
A long pause.
"Money," Brody said.
"Ten thousand.
Half upfront."
Lorenzo nodded slowly.
"And did you receive the first half?"
"Not yet.
She said she'd arrange it once I was here and—" He stopped.
He looked at Lorenzo's face and seemed, for the first time, to understand the situation he was sitting in.
"Am I — is this — I haven't done anything wrong.
I just drove up here."
"Did she tell you anything else?
About the estate.
About my father.
About why she specifically needed Nora's reputation damaged right now."
Brody's hands were not quite steady on the armrests.
"She said there was some old record-keeping dispute.
That the girl had been making complaints and it was causing trouble.
That it needed to go away quietly."
"Record-keeping dispute," Lorenzo repeated.
"That's what she said."
Lorenzo stood.
He straightened his jacket.
"Here is what's going to happen, Mr.
Callahan.
You're going to write down the name of your contact — the person Mrs.
Gable called who then called you.
You're going to include every detail of that conversation, including any amounts mentioned or promised.
You're going to sign that statement." He looked down at him.
"In exchange, I'll arrange your transport back to wherever you came from and we won't have any further reason to speak."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I'll ask you to explain to a county sheriff how you came to be in possession of confidential estate employment records that were provided to you without the staff member's knowledge or consent."
Brody reached for the pen that Sal appeared beside him holding.
It took him four minutes to write the statement.
He signed it.
He left without asking to see Nora.
She never knew he had been inside the building.
But upstairs in room 4B, as Brody's rented car disappeared down the snow-covered drive, Giovanni's fingers tapped once against his armrest.
Then twice.
May you like
Then stopped.
As if keeping count of something only he could see.
