Chapter 8 - THE DRAWING IN THE ASHES
The air in the room rushed out of my lungs.
I stared at the crumpled drawing in my hands. The crayon strokes were erratic, violent. The house was consumed by orange and red scribbles.
But the blonde woman in the hospital gown was drawn with chilling precision. She stood in the corner of the page, her face devoid of expression, watching the fire.
"Emily?" Luca asked, noticing my sudden stillness. "What is it?"
I handed him the paper, my hand shaking violently. "Where did Vanessa get this?"
Luca studied the drawing, his brow furrowing. He looked down at his daughter. "Sophie, did you draw this?"
Sophie shook her head, her blue eyes wide. "No, Daddy. I don't know how to draw people like that."
"This looks like... my mother," I whispered, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.
Leo stepped closer, peering over Luca's shoulder. His face drained of color. "Em... Mom was in the hospital recovering from her knee surgery the week of the fire. She couldn't have been there."
"Then why did Vanessa have a drawing of her at the scene?" I asked, my voice cracking.
Before Luca could answer, an FBI agent approached, holding Vanessa's phone in an evidence bag.
"Mr. Moretti," the agent said respectfully. "We just unlocked Bellini's phone. She sent a text right before we breached the room."
"To who?" Luca demanded.
"To Dante Moretti. It says: They know about the maid's mother. Burn the clinic."
Luca went completely rigid.
"What clinic?" I asked, panic clawing at my throat.
"The Saint Jude Convalescent Center," Luca said grimly. "The private facility where your mother died last year."
My mother hadn't died of a sudden heart attack, as the doctors had claimed.
She had been murdered.
"Why would Dante care about my mother?" I asked, tears stinging my eyes. "She was just a nurse!"
Luca’s dark eyes met mine, filled with a sudden, devastating realization.
"Because she wasn't just a nurse, Emily," Luca said softly. "Before she retired, Mary Carter was Elena's private physician."
The floor seemed to drop out from under me.
My mother knew Luca's first wife. My mother knew Elena.
"Dante didn't pay for Leo's college to keep you quiet about the fire," Luca realized, the pieces finally clicking together. "He paid her off to keep quiet about Elena's medical records."
"What medical records?"
"Elena was pregnant when she died in that fire," Luca whispered, his voice breaking.
Sophie gasped. I covered my mouth with both hands.
"Dante didn't just kill his sister-in-law," Luca said, a terrifying, cold fury replacing his grief. "He killed his own niece or nephew. And your mother knew about the pregnancy."
"We have to go to the clinic," I said, grabbing Luca's arm. "If Dante is going there to burn evidence, we can catch him!"
Luca turned to the FBI agent. "Keep Leo and Sophie in federal custody until I return. Do not let them out of your sight."
"Daddy, no!" Sophie cried, grabbing his coat.
Luca knelt down, pulling her into a tight hug. "I have to finish this, sweetie. I promise I will come back for you. Stay with Leo."
He kissed her head, stood up, and looked at me. "Let's go."
We ran out of the safe house, jumping into an unmarked FBI tactical vehicle Luca commandeered from the driveway.
He drove like a madman, tearing through the quiet city streets, running every red light.
"My mother died of a heart attack in her sleep," I said, staring blindly out the window. "The coroner said it was natural."
"The coroner is on Dante's payroll," Luca said. "I'm sorry, Emily. They silenced her because she refused to hand over Elena's files. She was trying to protect the memory of my wife."
Ten minutes later, we skidded to a halt outside the Saint Jude Convalescent Center. The building was dark, sitting at the end of a long, wooded road.
But as we jumped out of the car, I smelled it.
Smoke.
The back wing of the clinic was on fire. Flames licked the roof, illuminating the night sky in a horrific orange glow.
"Dante is inside!" Luca yelled, drawing his weapon and sprinting toward the building.
I ran after him, the heat radiating against my face.
We burst through the front doors. The lobby was filled with thick, black smoke. The fire alarms screamed relentlessly.
"Check the basement archives!" Luca coughed, covering his mouth. "That's where the old medical records are kept!"
We raced down the stairwell, the smoke growing thinner as we descended underground.
The basement hallway was dimly lit. At the end of the hall, the door to the records room was wide open.
Luca pushed me behind him, raising his gun. We slowly approached the door.
Inside, Dante Moretti was frantically throwing manila folders into a metal trash can, pouring lighter fluid over them.
"It's over, Dante," Luca said, stepping into the room.
Dante froze. He slowly turned around, dropping the lighter fluid. He looked at Luca's gun, then at me.
He smiled. A cold, soulless smile.
"You're too late, big brother," Dante said. He pulled a silver Zippo lighter from his pocket and flicked it open.
"Drop it!" Luca roared.
"I already burned the files," Dante laughed. "Your wife's secrets are gone. And soon, the rest of this building will come down on top of you."
He threw the lighter into the trash can.
Flames erupted instantly, catching the shelves of paper records and spreading up the walls.
Dante used the distraction to pull a hidden pistol from his waistband, aiming it directly at my chest.
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"Say hello to your mother, Emily," Dante sneered.
A gunshot rang out in the basement.
