Chapter 8 - THE TRUTH ABOUT LUCA DELUCAI wanted to hate Luca.
Evan was gone.
But the cabin told its own story.
Detective Monroe did not want me there.
This time I agreed.
I stayed in Manhattan while investigators searched the property.
At 7:18 p.m., Monroe called.
“Are you sitting down?”
I was.
Luca sat across from me.
“Yes.”
“We found several items.”
“What kind?”
“Your size clothing.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Women’s clothing, still packaged. Similar to things you own.”
My stomach turned.
“Why?”
“We also found a bottle of your prescription sleep medication.”
“I don’t take sleep medication.”
“You had a prescription three years ago.”
I remembered.
After my grandmother died.
“I stopped.”
“Your husband filled a new prescription last week.”
“That’s impossible.”
“The pharmacy record shows an online request sent through your patient portal.”
My good hand closed into a fist.
“He had my passwords.”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“A life jacket.”
I waited.
“There’s something wrong with a life jacket?”
“This one had been deliberately damaged.”
I stopped breathing.
Monroe continued carefully.
“The flotation material had been removed.”
The room became silent.
“The boat?”
“Booked for Saturday evening.”
Saturday.
Three days before Evan’s debt deadline.
I couldn’t speak.
Luca took the phone from my hand with a look asking permission.
I nodded.
“What else?” he asked.
Monroe recognized his voice.
“A shovel.”
Luca’s expression didn’t change.
“Anything linking Soren?”
“Not yet.”
“You need to find Mercer.”
“We are.”
“Before Soren does.”
Monroe paused.
“Why?”
“Because if Mercer owes him more than two million dollars and has now failed to deliver whatever repayment plan he promised, Soren has a reason to silence him.”
“Or help him disappear.”
“That too.”
When the call ended, I walked to the window.
Evan had planned my death.
I could finally say it.
Not suspicion.
Not paranoia.
Not exaggeration.
He had rented a remote cabin.
Filled my old prescription.
Prepared a useless life jacket.
Booked a boat.
And hidden cameras in our home to make sure I didn’t escape before the trip.
The realization should have destroyed me.
Instead, it made me furious.
I turned.
“I want to help catch him.”
Luca shook his head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because you are the person he wants.”
“Exactly.”
“No.”
“He’ll contact me again.”
“Probably.”
“Then we can use that.”
“Detective Monroe can use it.”
“With me.”
“Claire.”
“You don’t get to lock me in a hotel because you’re scared.”
His eyes flashed.
“I’m not scared.”
“Then stop treating me like glass.”
“I watched you sit on a bathroom floor with a broken arm forty-eight hours ago.”
“And I survived.”
“Barely.”
“But I did.”
We stared at each other.
Then he said something I didn’t expect.
“You’re right.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“I said you’re right.”
“That was disturbingly easy.”
“I can argue if it makes you more comfortable.”
I almost smiled.
He continued.
“I don’t want you involved because I want to protect you. But protecting you isn’t the same as controlling you.”
My throat tightened.
“Thank you.”
“You’re still wearing a tracker.”
“What?”
“Security tracker.”
“No.”
“Then I withdraw my enlightened speech.”
I laughed.
The sound surprised both of us.
Finally we compromised.
If Evan contacted me, Detective Monroe would handle the operation.
Luca’s people would stay out unless police requested logistical assistance.
I would not meet Evan alone.
I would not improvise.
I would not attempt to “be brave.”
That last rule came from Natalie.
At midnight, Evan texted.
We need to talk.
Monroe told me to respond.
About what?
His answer came instantly.
Everything. No police. No DeLuca.
Monroe typed the next response while I sent it.
Why should I trust you?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Returned.
Because I can prove who really wants you dead.
I looked at Monroe.
“Is he blaming Soren?”
“Maybe.”
Another message arrived.
Luca hasn’t told you what happened nine years ago. Ask him why those men were chasing him outside your diner.
I turned slowly.
Luca stood near the door.
“What happened nine years ago?”
He read the screen.
His face changed.
“Luca?”
Detective Monroe looked between us.
“Answer her.”
Luca walked to the table and sat.
“The men searching for me that night worked for Anton Soren’s older brother.”
My blood went cold.
“You told me you barely knew Soren.”
“I barely knew Anton then.”
“But you knew his family.”
“Yes.”
“Why were they trying to kill you?”
“Because I had taken something from them.”
“What?”
“Records.”
Monroe leaned forward.
“What records?”
“Evidence of trafficking and extortion.”
The detective stared at him.
“You stole evidence from another criminal organization?”
“Yes.”
“What did you do with it?”
“Sent it anonymously to federal investigators.”
I frowned.
“That doesn’t sound like something a mob boss does.”
“I contain multitudes.”
Nobody laughed.
“Why?” I asked.
His eyes hardened.
“Because there are lines even criminals shouldn’t cross.”
Monroe looked skeptical.
“And this evidence?”
“Led to arrests.”
“Anton’s brother?”
“Convicted. Died in prison.”
Suddenly the old diner story looked different.
“You weren’t running from some random feud.”
“No.”
“And I hid you from them.”
“Yes.”
“So Soren knows who I am?”
“I didn’t think he did.”
“Until now.”
Luca looked genuinely sick.
“Until now.”
The messages from Evan continued.
Ask him why Soren hates him.
Then:
Ask him why YOU are the perfect revenge.
My hands shook.
Detective Monroe whispered, “Don’t respond.”
Another message.
You think I started this, Claire?
Another.
I borrowed money. I screwed up. But Soren chose you.
Then the final message:
He knew about the diner before I ever bought the first insurance policy.
I stared at Luca.
For the first time since he broke down my door, I saw uncertainty in his face.
And fear.
Not for himself.
For me.
“What if Evan’s telling the truth?”
Luca looked at the phone.
Then at me.
“Then your husband didn’t simply plan to murder you for money.”
May you like
His voice was quiet.
“He sold you to someone who wanted you dead for something you did nine years ago.”
