Chapter 4 - THE BRACELET ON THE NURSERY FLOOR
We ran through the smoke-filled corridors of the mansion.
Luca didn't wait for security. He took the grand staircase two steps at a time, pulling his sidearm from his shoulder holster.
I followed right behind him, my apron stained with soot.
I knew Leo. Luca’s son was a quiet, sweet boy who liked to draw trucks at the kitchen island while I prepped the breakfast table. His mother had passed away when he was an infant.
We reached the heavy oak doors of the nursery.
They were wide open.
“Leo!” Luca shouted, bursting into the room.
The room was empty.
The bed was unmade. The window leading to the terrace was shattered.
Luca froze, his gun dropping to his side. The ruthless mafia boss was suddenly gone, replaced by a terrified father.
“She took him,” Luca whispered, his voice cracking.
I stepped into the room, my eyes scanning the mess.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said, pointing toward the shattered glass by the balcony.
Lying on the plush white carpet was a heavy gold bracelet.
It was studded with emeralds.
Luca walked over and picked it up. His hands were shaking.
“This is Vanessa’s,” Luca said. “I gave it to her for her birthday.”
“She wouldn't drop that by accident,” Daniel said, entering the room with two armed guards. “The clasp is intact. She took it off and left it.”
I looked at the bracelet.
Then I looked at the window.
“Answer one,” I said softly.
Luca turned to me.
“She didn't take him out the window,” I realized. “The glass is broken inward. Someone broke in from the outside. The bracelet is a misdirection.”
Luca stared at me. “How do you know?”
“When my aunt’s flower shop was robbed, they broke the window from the alley. The glass falls in the direction of the impact.” I pointed to the shards on the carpet. “Someone hit this from the terrace. But Vanessa was inside the house.”
Luca’s eyes widened.
“She didn't take him,” Luca realized. “Someone else did. And Vanessa saw them.”
“Or she let them in,” Daniel added grimly.
Luca gripped the gold bracelet so tightly his knuckles turned white.
“Check the security feeds for the terrace,” Luca barked.
“The cameras are down, sir,” Daniel said. “Vanessa wiped the system when she ran.”
I walked over to Leo’s small wooden desk.
His crayons were scattered everywhere. But one piece of paper was pinned under a heavy toy block.
I pulled it out.
It was a fresh drawing.
“Mr. Moretti,” I said, my voice trembling.
Luca rushed over.
It was a child’s drawing.
Leo had drawn a picture of himself holding hands with a tall man in a long black coat. The man had a distinctive, jagged red line drawn across his neck.
A scar.
Luca stared at the drawing.
“Victor,” Luca breathed.
“Your uncle?” I asked. “The one in the photograph? The one who died five years ago?”
Luca looked at the drawing, then at the shattered window.
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“My uncle isn't dead,” Luca said, a terrifying coldness washing over his face. “And he just took my son.”
TITLE: THE COAT IN THE WINE CELLAR
