Chapter 4 - THE GRAVE THAT HELD NO WIFEBy sunrise, Moretti security had locked down the estate.
Every staff member was questioned.
Every vehicle searched.
Every phone copied.
Salvatore Mercer had disappeared as thoroughly as a man could disappear when he had spent fifteen years learning exactly how Dante Moretti found people.
Dante hated that almost as much as the betrayal.
Vivienne spent the morning reviewing Marco’s video.
She watched it seven times.
At eleven, Dante entered the study.
“You find something?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Marco never says he saw Elena die.”
Dante’s expression hardened.
“He says she died.”
“He says she pushed him from the car before the second explosion.”
“That explosion killed her.”
“Did it?”
Dante stared.
Vivienne paused the video.
“Her identity was confirmed through jewelry.”
“And remains.”
“What remains?”
He hesitated.
“Fragments.”
“DNA?”
Dante’s silence answered.
Vivienne closed the laptop.
“Your family buried Elena without independent identification?”
“The explosion—”
“Dante.”
Her voice was quiet.
“Your brother was declared dead based on dental records that someone apparently falsified.”
Dante’s jaw tightened.
Vivienne stood.
“We open Elena’s grave.”
Two hours later, Dante was standing in a private cemetery outside Chicago beneath a gray sky.
Marco and Elena’s memorial occupied a marble crypt built into a small hill.
The cemetery director looked close to fainting.
“Mr. Moretti, there are legal requirements—”
Dante looked at him.
The man stopped talking.
The sealed container holding Elena’s remains was removed.
A forensic specialist opened it.
There were charred bone fragments.
Vivienne crouched nearby.
She examined them without touching.
“Those are not all human.”
The specialist looked up sharply.
“What?”
Vivienne pointed.
“That fragment is too light.”
Tests confirmed it.
Some remains belonged to an adult woman.
Others came from an animal.
Dante stood absolutely still.
“Can you identify the woman?”
“Possibly through mitochondrial DNA.”
“How long?”
The specialist opened his mouth.
Dante stared.
“Fast.”
They left the cemetery.
In the car, Vivienne said, “Someone needed enough human remains to sell the story.”
“Elena could still be dead.”
“Yes.”
“But maybe not in that car.”
“Yes.”
Dante looked out the window.
“For six months I’ve been telling Leo his mother loved him.”
Vivienne watched him.
“He’ll still need to hear that.”
“You don’t know she loved him.”
“I know she died or disappeared trying to keep him alive.”
Dante turned toward her.
“You sound certain.”
“People who want to abandon their children don’t usually engineer fake funerals.”
That afternoon, Everett Cross arrived at the estate uninvited.
Vivienne’s father entered Dante’s study wearing a charcoal overcoat and an expression of permanent irritation.
He was sixty-one, tall, silver-haired, and carried authority the way other men carried weapons.
“You put guards on my daughter.”
Dante remained seated.
“I put guards on everyone.”
Everett looked at Vivienne.
“You should come home.”
“No.”
His brows rose.
Vivienne rarely contradicted him publicly.
“The alliance is compromised,” Everett said.
“The alliance may be the only reason we’re alive,” she replied.
Everett looked at Dante.
“What have you dragged her into?”
Dante stood.
“Your network credentials were used to access my cameras.”
Everett’s expression did not change.
“Impossible.”
“Your daughter said the same thing.”
“Because she understands technology better than you.”
Dante almost smiled.
Almost.
Vivienne placed Marco’s video on the screen.
Everett watched silently.
When Marco said the traitor had access to both organizations, Everett’s face became unreadable.
After the video ended, he poured himself a drink.
“My security chief disappeared six months ago.”
Dante frowned.
“Who?”
“Caleb Voss.”
Vivienne turned.
“You told me he retired.”
“I lied.”
She looked furious.
Everett continued.
“Voss disappeared three days before Marco’s crash.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dante asked.
“Because his last known meeting was with Marco.”
Silence.
Dante took a step forward.
“You thought my brother turned him.”
“I thought Marco was stealing from me.”
“And I thought you killed Marco.”
Everett drank.
“That was probably the point.”
Vivienne said, “Do you have Voss’s records?”
“Yes.”
“Bring them.”
Her father looked at her.
“That sounded like an order.”
“It was.”
Everett almost smiled.
“My daughter finally found a family where insolence is rewarded.”
Dante said, “Don’t get comfortable.”
By evening, Cross security files were delivered.
Dante’s people compared them with Marco’s archives.
The overlap appeared quickly.
Both organizations had experienced manipulated shipments.
Both had lost money.
Both blamed the other.
Someone had been manufacturing conflict.
Vincent, bruised but alive, entered the study wearing his ballistic vest over a fresh shirt.
“I found Sal’s abandoned SUV.”
“Where?”
“South Side garage.”
“Cameras?”
“Wiped.”
“Anything else?”
Vincent placed a small object on the desk.
A chess bishop.
Black.
Dante stared at it.
Vivienne picked it up using a handkerchief.
“Message?”
“Probably.”
Everett looked at the piece.
“Antonio Moretti used those.”
Dante’s head snapped toward him.
“You knew my father?”
“Better than he liked.”
Everett took the bishop.
“Your father used to leave one on a man’s desk before removing him from power.”
Dante felt something cold in his chest.
“My father has been dead nine years.”
Everett stared at the chess piece.
“So I was told.”
No one spoke.
Dante laughed once.
It contained no humor.
“My brother is alive. My sister-in-law may not have died in her car. My adviser is a traitor. Now you’re suggesting my father survived his funeral too?”
Everett looked at him.
“I’m suggesting your family has a disturbing relationship with funerals.”
Vivienne ignored both men.
She turned the bishop over.
Something had been scratched into its base.
Coordinates.
Vincent entered them into a map.
An abandoned church thirty miles north of the city.
Dante reached for his coat.
Vivienne did the same.
“You’re staying.”
“No.”
“This could be a trap.”
“Obviously.”
“You are not coming.”
Vivienne looked at him.
“Do you want the surgeon who saved Leo available if we find Marco injured?”
Dante stopped.
She had him.
Everett said, “I’m coming too.”
Dante gave him a look.
“No.”
“I have forty men outside.”
“I have sixty.”
“Then eighty men can watch us argue.”
Vivienne closed her eyes.
“Both of you stop.”
Two hours later, they reached the church.
It had been abandoned for decades.
Windows broken.
Roof sagging.
Dante entered with Vincent and four guards.
Vivienne followed.
They found blood near the altar.
Fresh.
A trail led down into the basement.
Dante’s pulse increased.
At the bottom of the stairs sat a man tied to a chair.
Gray hair.
Bloodied face.
Gloved hands.
Caleb Voss.
Everett stopped.
“Caleb.”
Voss lifted his head.
“You took your time.”
Dante raised his weapon.
“Where is Sal?”
“Gone.”
“Marco?”
Voss stared at him.
“Alive.”
Dante stepped closer.
“Where?”
“Moving.”
“Why?”
“Because Bishop found him.”
Everett frowned.
“You’re Bishop.”
Voss gave a weak laugh.
“No.”
He looked at Dante.
“Your family gave that name to the wrong man.”
Dante’s voice lowered.
“Who is Bishop?”
Voss swallowed.
May you like
Then he whispered the answer.
“Your mother.”
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