Chapter 3 - THE TRAIN TICKET TO NOWHERE
“I never gave him that watch,” Frank whispered, his eyes locked on the gold casing.
Luca stood up so fast his heavy dining chair crashed backward onto the marble floor. He rounded the table, ignoring Vanessa’s desperate plea, and stopped inches from Frank.
“My father died fifteen years ago in a hit-and-run,” Luca said, his voice a low growl. “The police handed me his personal effects in a plastic bag. His wallet, his wedding ring. The watch was missing.”
Frank swallowed hard, refusing to step back. “I know.”
“Then how do you know about it?” Luca demanded.
I stepped forward, my heart pounding in my ears. “Mr. Moretti, please, give him a chance to speak.”
Carmine let out a dark laugh from the end of the table. “Let the old man talk, Luca. Let’s hear how he picked the pockets of a dying man while he bled out on the asphalt.”
“That’s a lie!” Vanessa screamed. She abandoned her place at the table and placed herself firmly between Luca and her father. “He didn’t steal it!”
“How would you know?” Carmine sneered. “You were just a brat in Chicago.”
“Because he didn’t take it from your father, Luca,” Vanessa said, tears finally spilling over her dark lashes. “He took it from the man who killed him.”
The dining room descended into absolute chaos.
Luca’s jaw clenched. “What man?”
Frank grabbed Vanessa’s arm. “Nessa, stop. You promised.”
“I’m done promising!” she cried, pulling away. “Luca, my father wasn’t just driving your dad that night. He was trying to protect him. The man who ran them off the road didn’t just leave them to die. He got out of his truck. My father fought him off, but he only managed to grab the watch back before the killer ran.”
Luca looked at Frank. “You knew who killed my father this whole time? For fifteen years, you drove me around, and you never said a word?”
“If I spoke, they would have killed you, too,” Frank said softly. “You were only a boy.”
I noticed Frank’s hand trembling as he reached into his pocket. He was clutching his coat tightly.
“This is a touching fairy tale,” Carmine interrupted, standing up. “But it doesn’t change the fact that this man has been hiding evidence. He’s a liability.”
Carmine nodded to two of the guards standing by the double doors. They started to move forward.
Instinct took over. I reached for Frank’s coat to pull him back out of the guards' reach. As I grabbed the heavy wool fabric, something slipped out of his pocket and fluttered to the floor.
I looked down. It was a one-way train ticket to Montreal.
The departure time was 11:30 PM. Tonight.
“You were leaving,” I said, looking up at Frank in shock.
Frank wouldn’t look at me. “I had to.”
Luca saw the ticket. The betrayal in his eyes deepened. “You’re running away? On the night of my engagement?”
But Vanessa wasn’t looking at the ticket. She was looking past us, toward the arched doorway of the hallway.
“Leo, go back upstairs,” she whispered.
We all turned. Standing in his pajamas, clutching a battered teddy bear, was Luca’s six-year-old son, Leo.
He didn’t look at his father. He was staring directly at Uncle Carmine.
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In his small hand, Leo held a piece of crumpled drawing paper.
“Nessa,” Leo said, his voice trembling. “The scary man from the picture is here. The one who yelled at you in the garden.”
