Chapter 4 - THE DRIVEWAY
Luca didn't wait. He shoved past Vanessa, nearly knocking her into the table, and sprinted for the front doors.
Aunt Angela and I followed right behind him, leaving Vanessa weeping silently by the ruined birthday cake.
The night air was sharp and cold. The ambulance was long gone, but the flashing red and blue lights of a single police cruiser illuminated the wrought-iron gates of the estate.
Standing next to my head chef was a little boy.
He looked about seven years old. He was wearing a faded denim jacket and clutching a worn, brown leather satchel to his chest. His dark hair was a tangled mess, but his eyes—large, dark, and piercing—were exact replicas of the man sprinting down the steps.
Luca stopped dead in his tracks on the gravel.
The boy looked up. He didn't look frightened. He looked exhausted.
“Are you Luca Moretti?” the boy asked. His voice was small but startlingly steady.
Luca fell to his knees on the sharp gravel. He didn't seem to feel it. “Yes. Yes, I am.”
The boy unlatched his heavy leather satchel. He reached inside and pulled out a faded, dog-eared photograph. He held it out.
“My mom said if anything ever happened to her, I was supposed to find you and give you this.”
Luca took the photograph with trembling hands. I stepped close enough to see it.
It was a picture of a young Luca, maybe ten years ago, standing on a beach. He had his arm wrapped around a beautiful woman with long, dark hair, laughing at the camera.
“Maria,” Luca choked out, a tear finally spilling over his eyelashes. He looked at the boy. “What’s your name?”
“Leo,” the boy said.
Luca pulled the tiny silver bracelet from his pocket. “Your mom… where is your mom, Leo?”
Leo looked down at his scuffed sneakers. “She got sick. She went to sleep last week. A lady came and got me. She put me in a car and told the driver to bring me here.”
“A lady?” Aunt Angela asked, stepping forward, her eyes narrowed. “What lady?”
Leo looked up at Angela. He reached into his pocket and pulled out something else.
It was a gold pocket watch. The chain was broken.
“She gave me this to pay the driver,” Leo said innocently.
Aunt Angela gasped, taking a stumbling step backward.
I recognized that watch. I had seen it sitting on the sideboard inside just an hour ago, right next to Teresa’s burgundy bag. It was Teresa’s late husband’s watch.
“Teresa didn't send for him,” Angela whispered, looking at Luca in absolute horror.
Luca looked back at the house, up at the massive windows of the dining room. Vanessa was standing in the glass, looking down at them.
May you like
“No,” Luca said, his voice hardening into steel. He stood up, taking Leo’s small hand in his. “My mother didn't send for him. Vanessa did.”
He looked down at Leo. “Come with me, Leo. We have a lot of questions for my wife.”
