Chapter 4: The Drive to Indiana
Luca answered on the first ring.
"Talk."
"Boss, there's another message on her phone.
After the photograph." Daniel read it out.
Both lines.
Word for word.
Silence on the other end of the call.
"The other matter," Luca repeated.
"Yes, boss."
"She didn't mention Bruno in that message."
"No."
Another silence.
Longer this time.
"Find out who R.
Caruso is.
Full name.
Address.
Everything."
"Already running it."
"And Daniel — don't let her leave until I say so."
A pause.
"She's already upstairs.
She said she needed twenty minutes."
"Then stand outside the door."
"Understood."
The call ended.
I was still in the study when Luca's car pulled out of the drive.
Mrs.
Carter had brought me tea I hadn't touched.
The bandage on my shoulder had been taped properly now, and the pain had settled into a dull, steady ache that I could almost ignore if I kept still.
I couldn't keep still.
Mrs.
Carter sat in the chair across from me.
She was sixty-three, had worked for the Moretti family for twenty-two years, and normally said very little.
Tonight she'd said even less than usual.
"Mrs.
Carter."
She looked up.
"Did you know?
About Bruno?"
She was quiet for a moment.
"I knew something happened at the kennels this afternoon.
I saw your uniform when you came in."
"Did you say anything?"
"To who?" She looked at her hands.
"Miss Bellini told the kitchen staff it was an accident.
That you'd been careless."
I nodded.
"Emma." She set down her cup.
"I want to ask you something, and I need you to answer me honestly."
"All right."
"How long has she been like this with you?"
I looked at the window.
"Since she moved in," I said.
"Four months ago."
Mrs.
Carter's expression didn't change, but something behind her eyes did.
"Has she ever threatened you before tonight?"
I thought about the morning she'd found me dusting the shelves in Luca's study.
The way she'd stood in the doorway and told me that women who made themselves too comfortable in other people's houses had a way of finding themselves without a roof.
I'd thought she was talking about herself.
It took me another week to understand she was talking about me.
"Yes," I said.
Mrs.
Carter stood up.
She crossed to the desk, opened the bottom drawer, and removed a small notebook.
She set it in front of me.
"Write it down," she said.
"Everything.
Dates if you remember them.
What she said.
What she did.
What you saw."
"Why?"
"Because Mr.
Moretti is going to need it." She looked at me steadily.
"And because you deserve to have it on paper."
I picked up the pen.
I was on the third page when Daniel knocked and opened the door.
"Emma.
Mr.
Moretti is asking for you."
I looked up.
"He's still driving."
"He wants to speak to you on the phone.
He says it's important."
I followed Daniel into the hallway.
He handed me his phone.
"Mr.
Moretti?"
"Emma." His voice was even, but I could hear road noise behind it.
"I need you to think carefully.
When Vanessa came to the kennels this afternoon — did the man with the carrier say anything?
Anything at all?"
I thought back.
The stranger with the carrier.
Dark jacket.
He hadn't looked at me directly.
"He said — he said to Vanessa, 'Is this the one?' And she said yes."
A pause.
"Is this the one," Luca repeated.
"I thought he meant Bruno."
"What did he look like?"
I described him.
Medium height.
Dark hair going gray at the temples.
A small scar above his left eyebrow.
Another pause.
Longer.
"Emma, stay in the study.
Don't open the door for anyone except Mrs.
Carter or Daniel."
My stomach tightened.
"Mr.
Moretti — what's happening?"
"I don't know yet." He paused.
"But I don't think this was only about Bruno."
The line went quiet for a moment.
"I'm twenty minutes from the clinic," he said.
"I'll call when I have him."
The call ended.
I stood in the hallway holding Daniel's phone.
Daniel was watching me.
"He'll get there in time," he said.
I nodded.
But I kept thinking about what Luca had said.
*I don't think this was only about Bruno.*
If it wasn't about Bruno — then what was it about?
I walked back toward the study.
The notebook was still open on the desk, three pages filled in my own handwriting.
I sat down and turned to the fourth page.
And then I stopped.
Because I remembered something I hadn't thought to write down yet.
Two weeks ago, I had been carrying a tray of coffee through the east corridor when I heard Vanessa on her phone in the sitting room.
The door was half open.
I hadn't meant to listen.
But I'd heard a name.
Not R.
Caruso.
Another name.
May you like
A name I recognized because I had seen it on the framed documents hanging in Luca's study.
The name of his mother's estate lawyer.
