Chapter 8 - Gabriel's BrotherVictor Moretti was Gabriel's older brother.
I remembered him only vaguely.
A tall man at neighborhood parties.
A gold watch.
A booming laugh.
A scar beside his chin.
He disappeared from my childhood before I was old enough to understand why.
According to newspapers, Victor died ten years ago in a boating accident off Long Island.
According to Derek, he murdered my father first.
Gabriel didn't deny it.
That hurt more than anything.
We met in a federal conference room.
Bell.
Ruiz.
Two prosecutors.
Gabriel.
Me.
I put the photograph of Dad on the table.
“Tell me.”
Gabriel sat across from me.
“Victor believed Kessler's operation threatened several businesses our family depended on.”
“Legal businesses?”
“Some.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
“He wanted the evidence Thomas collected.”
“So did you.”
“Yes.”
“What was the difference?”
“I wanted it delivered to federal investigators through an attorney.”
“And Victor?”
“He wanted it destroyed.”
The room went quiet.
“Why?”
“Because some of those records implicated people connected to him.”
I stared at Gabriel.
“You knew this before Dad died?”
“I knew Victor was looking for the files. I did not know he would hurt Thomas.”
“But you suspected him afterward.”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me.”
“I had no proof.”
“You keep saying that like it makes secrecy noble.”
His jaw tightened.
“It doesn't.”
That surprised me.
He continued.
“I failed your father.”
“Did you fail him or betray him?”
“Both, depending on the day.”
My anger faltered.
He wasn't defending himself.
“What happened the night Dad died?”
“Thomas called me.”
“What did he say?”
“That someone had followed him.”
“Victor?”
“He didn't know.”
“Then?”
“I told him to meet me at a diner in Queens.”
“The one in the photograph?”
“No. That photo was taken earlier.”
“Why were Kessler and Derek there?”
“We don't know.”
Gabriel continued.
“At the diner, Thomas told me he had hidden everything. He refused to tell me where.”
“Because he didn't trust you?”
“Because he trusted no one completely anymore.”
That sounded like Dad.
“He left first. Twenty minutes later, I received a call about the crash.”
“Where was Victor?”
“I couldn't find him until the next afternoon.”
“And you didn't confront him?”
“I did.”
“What did he say?”
“That Thomas had created his own problems.”
My stomach twisted.
“That sounds like a confession.”
“It sounded like Victor.”
“Was he capable of killing Dad?”
“Yes.”
The word landed like stone.
I looked away.
“What happened to Victor?”
Gabriel's eyes hardened.
“Two years later, he disappeared.”
“You said he died in a boating accident.”
“That is the official story.”
“And the real one?”
“No body was recovered.”
Bell leaned forward.
“We have intelligence suggesting Victor Moretti may still be alive.”
I stared.
“What?”
Gabriel didn't look surprised.
“You knew?”
“I suspected.”
“Where is he?”
“We don't know.”
Derek claimed Victor contacted him six months ago.
That was when Derek stopped sharing information with Kessler.
Victor had offered him a deal:
Find the Mercer evidence.
Bring it to Victor.
In exchange, Derek would receive enough money to disappear.
“With me,” I whispered.
Ruiz nodded.
“That's what he's claiming.”
Something strange happened inside me.
Not forgiveness.
Never that.
But a piece clicked into place.
Derek had spent years searching my belongings because Kessler ordered him to.
Then Victor appeared.
Derek saw a bigger escape.
Maybe he imagined taking me too.
Maybe in his warped mind, kidnapping me to another country counted as saving our marriage.
Abusers can build entire moral systems where every cruelty becomes justified by love.
I no longer needed to understand his.
Bell opened another file.
“Derek provided a contact method.”
“For Victor?”
“Yes.”
“What does he want?”
“The evidence.”
“He doesn't know the FBI has it?”
“Probably not.”
A prosecutor spoke.
“We want to use Derek to arrange a meeting.”
Gabriel's expression turned lethal.
“No.”
Bell looked at him.
“You don't get a vote.”
“If Victor is alive, you're underestimating him.”
“We're not.”
“Yes, you are.”
I interrupted.
“Can he hurt anyone else?”
Bell looked at me.
“If he remains free, yes.”
“Then find him.”
Gabriel turned.
“Claire.”
“What?”
“This is not your responsibility.”
“No. But Dad died because everyone around him kept secrets and tried to solve things privately.”
I looked around the table.
“I'm done with that.”
Derek agreed to cooperate.
Not because he became brave.
Because prosecutors showed him the charges.
If convicted on everything, he could spend decades in prison.
Suddenly, truth became affordable.
He sent Victor a coded message.
THE KEY IS REAL. I HAVE ACCESS.
Victor responded two hours later.
PROVE IT.
Agents sent a controlled image of one page from my father's records.
Silence.
Then:
TOMORROW.
A location arrived.
Not a warehouse.
Not an alley.
A cemetery.
My father's cemetery.
I felt sick when I heard.
Gabriel stared at the message.
“He always enjoyed theater.”
“You think it's him?”
“Yes.”
The meeting was set for noon.
Derek would attend wearing a wire.
I would stay far away.
For once, nobody argued with that part.
The next morning, I went to my father's grave before sunrise.
Security remained at a respectful distance.
Snow from the previous week still clung to the edges of headstones.
I cleared dead leaves from Dad's marker.
THOMAS MERCER
1963–2014
BELOVED FATHER AND FRIEND
“I found your stupid necklace trick,” I whispered.
The wind moved through bare branches.
“I wish you'd just told me.”
I sat on the cold bench beside the grave.
“I spent eleven years thinking you died because you were unlucky.”
My throat tightened.
“Maybe that was easier.”
Footsteps approached.
Gabriel stopped several yards away.
“Can I?”
I nodded.
He stood beside the grave.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then Gabriel said, “I loved him.”
“I know.”
“I should have told you sooner.”
“Yes.”
“I thought silence was protection.”
“So did Derek.”
Gabriel flinched.
“That's not fair.”
“No.”
I looked up.
“But it's true.”
He nodded slowly.
“Then I was wrong.”
That answer mattered.
Not because it erased anything.
Because he didn't demand forgiveness for admitting fault.
At 11:30, agents sealed the cemetery perimeter.
Derek arrived in an unmarked vehicle.
I watched remotely from a command van several blocks away.
He walked between gravestones carrying a briefcase.
His face looked gray.
At 12:04, nobody appeared.
12:15.
12:30.
Bell frowned.
“Something's wrong.”
At 12:37, Derek's phone rang.
He answered.
A distorted voice spoke.
“You brought police.”
Derek's eyes widened.
“No.”
“You always were stupid.”
The line ended.
Then every screen in the van went black.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Signal interference.”
Agents scrambled.
Gabriel stood.
“Victor isn't at the cemetery.”
Bell looked at him.
“How do you know?”
“Because this was never a meeting.”
Then Gabriel's phone rang.
He answered.
His face changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then looked at me.
Maria.
My blood turned cold.
“What happened to Maria?”
Gabriel's voice was barely audible.
“Her building alarm was triggered.”
I stood.
“No.”
“We have people there.”
His phone buzzed with an image.
He stared at it.
“Show me.”
“Claire—”
“SHOW ME.”
He turned the screen.
Maria's apartment door was open.
On the kitchen table sat one black envelope.
Inside, security found a note.
Only five words.
THE DAUGHTER FOR THE BROTHER.
I looked at Gabriel.
“What does that mean?”
He already knew.
His face had gone pale.
“Victor doesn't want the evidence anymore.”
May you like
“What does he want?”
“Me.”
