Chapter 4 - The Shadow in the Storm
Night fell over Long Island accompanied by a violent autumn storm. Rain lashed against the glass windows of the DeLuca estate, and wind howled through the towering oaks surrounding the property.
Inside the estate’s security hub, Vincent Romano paced back and forth in front of twenty monitoring screens.
“Nothing?” Vincent roared at his head security officer. “Two women and a three-year-old kid disappear into thin air, and you give me nothing?!”
“Sir, the rain is washing out the thermal cameras along the coast,” the officer explained nervously. “And the boat house door was unlocked. They might have taken the speedboat before the storm hit.”
Vincent grabbed the guard by his collar, pulling him close. “If Lorenzo DeLuca is alive, he will come for me. Do you understand? He won't run to the police. He will come to this house and slaughter every man who took my money! Find them!”
Vincent threw the guard back into his chair and stepped out into the grand hallway.
He walked into Lorenzo’s private study—the room he had coveted for fifteen years. He walked behind the massive oak desk, ran his fingers over the rich leather chair, and sat down. He poured himself three fingers of single-malt bourbon and rested his feet on the desk.
On the corner of the blotter sat a small pink object.
Vincent froze.
He set his glass down slowly. He reached out and picked up the object.
It was a piece of pink plastic shaped like a rabbit’s ear—the missing handle from Emma’s craft scissors.
A cold trickle of sweat ran down the back of Vincent’s neck. He stood up instantly, pulling a sleek black pistol from his shoulder holster.
“Who was in here?” Vincent called out, his voice echoing in the vast, empty study. “Guards!”
No answer.
The lights in the study flickered once, twice, and then went completely dark.
The heavy oak door slammed shut behind him with a deafening bang. The lock clicked into place.
Vincent spun around, raising his weapon, his heart thumping against his ribs. The only light in the room came from the violent flashes of lightning outside the floor-to-ceiling windows.
In the flash of white light, Vincent saw a shadow sitting in the wingback chair in the dark corner of the room.
“You always were sloppy, Vincent,” a voice rasped from the dark—a voice that made Vincent’s blood turn to ice.
“Lorenzo...” Vincent gasped, his hand shaking as he aimed his gun toward the shadow. “How... how did you get in here? The grounds are surrounded!”
“This is my house,” Lorenzo said quietly, stepping out of the shadows into the next flash of lightning. He was dressed in a dark coat, holding his father’s shattered pocket watch in his left hand. “I built the secret passages with my father thirty years ago. I know every brick, every nail, every whisper in these walls.”
“Don't move!” Vincent screamed, cocking his pistol. “I’ll put a bullet in your head right here!”
“You could try,” Lorenzo replied calmly. “But check your clip first.”
Vincent’s eyes flicked down to his weapon. The magazine was missing.
From behind the heavy velvet curtains, Marco Bruno stepped out, tossing Vincent’s loaded magazine onto the desk with a heavy clatter.
Vincent backed away toward the window, his face pale as death. “Lorenzo... listen to me. It wasn't just me! The Moretti family... they paid me five million! They threatened my family!”
“You sold your brothers for gold, Vincent,” Lorenzo said, stepping closer. “And you ordered the murder of a mother and a child.”
“They saw the cellar!” Vincent yelled, tears of terror mixing with sweat on his face. “I had no choice!”
“You always have a choice,” a woman’s voice said from the doorway.
Vincent turned. Sophia stood in the doorway, lit by the emergency lights in the hall. She held Emma tightly in her left arm. In her right hand, she held a heavy iron fireplace poker.
May you like
Beside her, little Emma pointed her chubby finger at Vincent.
“That’s the bad man, Mama,” Emma said softly. “He took Uncle Lorenzo’s watch.”
