Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE WITH NO ADDRESS
The photograph of Thomas Bennett showed a building behind a chain-link fence.
Three stories.
Gray stone.
Narrow windows.
A water tower in the distance.
No visible street sign.
No address.
Elena handed it to me with trembling fingers.
“I've spent months trying to find it.”
I studied the image.
Something about the architecture felt familiar.
The arched entrance.
The narrow brickwork around the windows.
The strange decorative stone above the door.
I reached for Matteo's sketchbook.
Flipped through the pages.
Stopped.
There it was.
A drawing of the same building.
Seventeen years old.
I stared.
“Elena.”
She leaned closer.
“What?”
“My brother drew this.”
Her hand flew to her mouth.
The drawing had a title.
Saint Agnes Children's Home.
Beneath it, Matteo had written:
They say it closed in 1989. Someone forgot to tell the children.
I felt cold.
Saint Agnes had been a private children's institution outside Albany.
Officially, it had closed decades earlier.
My father once donated money to it.
Vincent had overseen those donations.
I remembered the name because Matteo hated it.
He'd accused the administrators of mistreating children.
My father told him to stay out of matters he didn't understand.
Matteo refused.
I called an independent investigator named Mara Quinn.
Mara was a former federal analyst who'd left government work to run her own investigations firm.
She didn't owe me favors.
She didn't fear my name.
And she'd once refused a contract from my father because she considered his terms unethical.
That made her useful.
I sent her the photograph and sketch.
“Find the building,” I said.
She studied the images.
“Why?”
“Because someone I love may be inside.”
She looked at me.
“Are you asking me to do something illegal?”
“No.”
“Then I'll see what public records and lawful inquiries establish.”
Elena remained at the mansion while we arranged independent security.
Not Daniel's people.
Not Vincent's.
Professionals vetted by Mara and my attorney.
I offered Elena the choice of relocating with Mia.
She considered.
Then shook her head.
“Not yet.”
I nodded.
“It's your decision.”
That evening, Mia found me in the library.
I was staring at Matteo's sketch.
She climbed into the chair opposite me.
“Uncle Luca?”
“Yes, princess?”
“Are you sad?”
I looked at her.
“A little.”
She considered.
Then climbed onto my lap.
I froze.
No one had ever done that without asking.
Mia rested her head against my chest.
“Mommy says hugs help.”
I looked down at her golden curls.
Slowly, I put one arm around her.
“Your mommy's right.”
She smiled.
Then whispered:
“Don't worry. Boss Mia will fix it.”
May you like
I closed my eyes.
And for the first time in seventeen years, I allowed myself to hope.
