Chapter 4 - THE RED NOTEBOOKWORD NUMBER - 4
Thomas Vale answered my call on the third ring.
“Emma?”
His voice sounded exactly as I remembered it.
Warm.
Measured.
The voice of the man who brought casseroles after my mother died because I forgot to eat.
“Thomas.”
“Good Lord. How long has it been?”
“Six years.”
“You sound upset.”
I looked around Luca Moretti’s underground archive.
Luca stood ten feet away.
Marco was tracing the kidnapping message.
Silvio watched me carefully.
“I need to ask you something.”
“Of course.”
“Do you remember a red notebook my mother kept?”
Silence.
Tiny.
But there.
“A notebook?”
“Yes.”
“She had many.”
“This one had flowers drawn on the cover.”
Another pause.
“I’m afraid I don’t remember.”
I knew he was lying.
“Thomas.”
“What?”
“My mother died twelve years ago.”
“I know.”
“You handled her estate.”
“Yes.”
“Did you take her notebook?”
“No.”
Immediately.
Too quickly.
I closed my eyes.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“In Lake Forest?”
“Yes.”
Luca mouthed: Keep him talking.
I asked, “Did you know Dr. Bellini?”
This time, Thomas did not answer.
“Thomas?”
“You shouldn’t be asking these questions.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because your mother asked the same ones.”
Then the line disconnected.
Marco was already moving.
“Team to Lake Forest.”
Luca grabbed his coat.
I followed.
“No.”
I stopped.
He looked at me.
“You stay here.”
“That notebook belonged to my mother.”
“Vanessa is missing. Bellini is gone. Someone threatened your life.”
“All excellent reasons not to leave me alone in a house that has already been compromised.”
Silvio almost smiled.
Luca did not.
“You stay with Marco.”
“Marco is going with you.”
Marco looked between us.
“Please don’t involve me.”
I almost laughed.
Luca finally said, “Fine.”
We drove north in three vehicles.
Thomas Vale’s home stood behind iron gates near the lake.
The front door was open.
No lights.
Security entered first.
Nobody inside.
The study had been searched.
Drawers emptied.
Documents burned in the fireplace.
But the fire had died before consuming everything.
I knelt near the ashes.
A red corner.
Paper.
My heart stopped.
Using tongs, Marco pulled free part of a notebook cover.
Red.
Three faded flowers in black ink.
My flowers.
“No.”
I reached for it.
Luca caught my wrist gently.
“It’s evidence.”
“That was my mother’s.”
“I know.”
“What did they destroy?”
Marco examined the surviving pages.
Most were charred.
A few entries remained.
Dates.
Silver patterns.
Initials.
One phrase repeated:
B.V. SWITCHED PIECES AFTER A.M. DINNERS.
Bellini Vale.
Antonio Moretti.
Another entry:
V.V. KNOWS BUT FEARS S.M.
Victor Vale knows but fears Silvio Moretti?
I turned.
Silvio had not come with us.
Convenient.
Luca read the page.
His jaw hardened.
“Call my uncle.”
Marco did.
No answer.
Then another line.
T.V. PROMISED TO HIDE EMMA IF ANYTHING HAPPENS.
Thomas Vale.
My mother trusted him.
Or believed she did.
The final readable entry was dated the day before she died.
THE SILVER IS NOT THE WEAPON.
THE SILVER IS THE WARNING.
I stared.
“What does that mean?”
Luca read it twice.
“The spoons are not how the poison was delivered.”
“Then tonight’s spoons were planted to make us think they were.”
“Yes.”
The toxic exposure was real.
But the silver might be theater.
A message.
A reenactment of Clara’s old investigation.
Someone wanted us following her path.
Why?
A crash sounded upstairs.
Marco moved.
Security rushed toward the rear.
A man ran from the house.
He made it twenty yards before two Moretti guards tackled him.
Thomas Vale.
He looked older than I remembered.
Gray hair.
Thin face.
Blood on one sleeve.
When he saw me, his expression collapsed.
“Emma.”
I wanted to hit him.
Instead I said:
“Where is the rest of my mother’s notebook?”
Thomas looked toward Luca.
“Get me away from the Morettis.”
Luca’s eyes became cold.
“You are currently on property surrounded by Morettis.”
Thomas laughed shakily.
“Exactly.”
I stepped between them.
“Answer me.”
He looked at me.
“I kept the notebook because Clara asked me to.”
“You just tried to burn it.”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
“Bellini.”
Everything stopped.
“He was here?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“Why?”
“He wanted the ledger.”
“Where did he go?”
“I don’t know.”
“Vanessa?”
Thomas looked confused.
“What about Vanessa?”
“She was kidnapped.”
His face went pale.
“No.”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
That seemed real.
Thomas closed his eyes.
“This is happening again.”
“What?”
“The same pattern.”
Luca stepped closer.
“Explain.”
Thomas looked at him with open hatred.
“Your father was poisoned before he died.”
Luca’s face did not move.
“How do you know?”
“Because Clara knew.”
“By whom?”
Thomas laughed bitterly.
“You still think this is Vale versus Moretti.”
“Answer.”
“It was both.”
Antonio Moretti had discovered a financial partnership operating beneath the families.
Victor Vale.
Silvio Moretti.
Bellini.
Several bankers.
Two police officers.
They moved money through legitimate businesses while both families blamed rival crews for missing funds.
Antonio planned to expose them.
Clara discovered the coded silver system while restoring family pieces.
Bellini learned she knew.
“What did he do?” I asked.
Thomas looked ashamed.
“I helped her disappear for forty-eight hours.”
“Why?”
“She thought someone was following you.”
I stopped breathing.
“Me?”
“You were fifteen.”
“She told me the only thing that mattered was keeping you out.”
My throat burned.
“What happened after forty-eight hours?”
“She insisted on meeting Antonio.”
“Luca’s father?”
“Yes.”
“She had evidence.”
“Did she reach him?”
Thomas looked at Luca.
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Antonio was already hospitalized.”
Luca frowned.
“My father’s heart attack.”
“It wasn’t a heart attack.”
Silence.
“Bellini had been treating him.”
My stomach turned.
Thomas continued.
“Clara realized the silver wasn’t carrying poison. It was marking which meals had been observed.”
“Observed?”
“Yes.”
“By whom?”
“She never discovered.”
Luca looked at the charred page.
“The silver is the warning.”
Thomas nodded.
“The altered pieces were identifiers. Someone in the household swapped them to show the conspirators which tray belonged to Antonio.”
“So the poison came through something else.”
“Yes.”
“Medicine?”
Thomas looked toward Luca.
“I think so.”
Luca’s face hardened.
“And my current exposure?”
“Probably the same method.”
Dr. Bellini.
His physician.
The man controlling his prescriptions.
The silver had been recreated tonight to make the old conspiracy visible.
Someone wanted Luca to realize Bellini was repeating history.
“Who?” I asked.
Thomas swallowed.
“Clara.”
I stared.
“My mother is dead.”
He looked at me.
“I know what I said.”
My heart began pounding.
Thomas reached inside his coat slowly.
Marco aimed immediately.
“Hands.”
Thomas removed a photograph.
He handed it to me.
A woman leaving a grocery store.
Older.
Gray beginning at her temples.
But unmistakable.
My mother.
Clara Reed.
The photograph was dated three months ago.
I could not breathe.
“No.”
Thomas whispered:
“Your mother survived the crash.”
The room tilted.
“She asked me to tell you she was dead.”
I slapped him.
Hard.
Nobody stopped me.
Thomas touched his cheek.
Tears filled his eyes.
“I deserved that.”
“Twelve years?”
“I know.”
“You let me bury an empty coffin?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Clara believed the only way to protect you was to make everyone believe she took the ledger to her grave.”
I shook my head.
“Where is she?”
Thomas looked at the photograph.
“I don’t know anymore.”
“When did you last see her?”
“Three months ago.”
“Why?”
“She told me Bellini had started again.”
Luca went still.
“With me?”
“Yes.”
Thomas looked toward him.
“She said Antonio’s son was being poisoned.”
My mother had known Luca was in danger.
She had returned to Chicago.
And instead of contacting me—
she had rebuilt the exact silver warning that began everything.
My phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A message appeared.
EMMA.
I’M SORRY.
DO NOT TRUST THOMAS.
HE WAS THERE WHEN THE CAR HIT ME.
I looked up slowly.
Thomas saw my face.
“What?”
I backed away.
The next message arrived.
HE DIDN’T SAVE ME.
May you like
HE HELPED THEM FIND ME.
And suddenly the man who had helped raise me after my mother’s “death” looked terrified.
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