Chapter 5 - The Knock on the Iron Gates
The heavy iron gates of the Moretti estate didn't usually open after midnight unless an ambulance or a federal warrant was attached to the bumper.
Yet at 12:15 AM, the low, metallic groan of the hydraulic hinges vibrated through the floorboards of the main study.
I stood by the window with the polaroid photograph still clutched in my right hand, watching the headlights of a battered black sedan cut a jagged path up the winding gravel drive. It wasn't Vance’s car. It was an unmarked municipal vehicle—the kind used by county process servers or mid-level state investigators who thought a late-night knock would rattle the nerves of a man who ran the eastern seaboard's logistics network.
"They're early," Marco said from the doorway, sliding the action of a compact firearm back into place with a dry, metallic click before tucking it behind his belt. "Local police dispatch logged an anonymous call twenty minutes ago claiming a disturbance at the east gate. They're sending two cruisers."
"An anonymous call," I repeated, turning away from the glass. "Generated from inside the house?"
"Traced straight to the landline in the guest suite upstairs," Marco confirmed. "The one Camille has been using since you told her to pack her bags after dinner."
I walked over to the desk, dropped the polaroid face down beside the empty watch tray, and picked up my suit jacket. The wool felt heavy, smelling faintly of cedar and rain.
"Let them in," I said.
"Boss—"
"Let them in, Marco. If Camille wants to play state politics with my family history, let's see how she handles a formal inquiry under oath."
We walked out into the grand foyer just as the heavy oak front doors swung open to reveal two uniformed county deputies flanked by a tall, sharp-featured woman in a tailored charcoal trench coat. She wasn't local police. The gold pin on her lapel bore the seal of the Massachusetts State Attorney General's office—Special Investigator Sarah Sterling.
"Mr. Moretti," she said, stepping over the threshold without waiting for an invitation, her heels clicking sharply against the marble where Elena’s tea had dried hours earlier. "I apologize for the late hour, but we received an urgent affidavit regarding missing estate assets and an unrecorded custodial claim filed against this property tonight."
Before I could answer, a door clicked open at the top of the grand staircase.
Camille stood on the landing, wearing a silk robe that matched the color of champagne, her hair slightly disheveled but her eyes burning with a wild, triumphant light.
"He's hiding it, Officer," Camille called down, her voice ringing clear and steady through the cavernous foyer. "He has unregistered union documents and stolen property belonging to the state archive locked in his study. I saw him take them from the safe myself."
The two deputies shifted uncomfortably, their hands dropping instinctively toward their utility belts as they looked between me and the woman on the stairs.
Special Investigator Sterling didn't look at Camille. She reached into her leather briefcase, pulled out a heavily stamped parchment document, and held it up toward me under the light of the crystal chandelier.
"Mr. Moretti," Sterling said, her eyes narrowing as she read the name on the warrant. "Under Section 4 of the state probate code, we have a court order to seize all historical records pertaining to the Moretti estate—specifically including any documents relating to the child registered under the name Elena Brooks."
The foyer went dead silent.
May you like
My eyes snapped from Sterling’s face back up to the top of the stairs, where Camille was smiling.
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