Chapter 2 - THE BROTHER WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
Z
Roman had not heard anyone speak his brother's name in almost a decade.
Not because he had forgotten him.
Because remembering Julian Kinsley required reopening the worst night of his life.
Julian had been twenty-four when his car went off a bridge outside Newark during a winter storm.
The vehicle burned.
The medical examiner identified remains through dental records.
Roman buried him beneath a black granite headstone beside their parents.
He visited every Christmas Eve.
Sometimes on Julian's birthday.
Never with flowers.
Julian hated flowers.
He brought coffee instead.
Two cups.
One black.
One with too much sugar.
Now Narelli sat across from him in a police interview room, claiming his dead brother was coming home.
Roman forced his voice to remain steady.
“Explain.”
Narelli glanced at Meredith.
“Is this conversation confidential?”
Meredith nodded, explaining the protections and limits of their attorney-client discussion.
Narelli took a breath.
“Three weeks ago, I found an expense reimbursement that didn't belong in our system.”
Roman waited.
“It was coded to a dormant vendor. Six thousand eight hundred dollars. Listed as a transportation consulting fee.”
“That's not unusual.”
“The vendor was dissolved eleven years ago.”
Roman's expression changed.
“Which vendor?”
“Eastbridge Medical Transport.”
He stared at her.
That was the company that had transported Julian's remains.
Narelli continued.
“I checked the old accounts. The company had received payments every quarter since Julian died.”
“How much?”
“Almost two million dollars.”
Roman sat back.
“Who authorized them?”
“Your former chief financial officer.”
“Elliot Vane?”
She nodded.
Elliot had worked for Roman's father before Roman took over the business.
He was sixty-one now, retired to Connecticut, and occasionally attended company dinners.
Roman had trusted him with the family estate.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“I was trying to verify the records before bringing you something that would hurt you.”
Roman looked at her swollen hand.
“And tonight?”
“Someone contacted me claiming to know what happened to Julian.”
“Who?”
“A man named Peter Doss.”
Roman didn't recognize the name.
Narelli continued.
“He told me to meet him at the diner. He said he had proof Julian was alive.”
“Did he?”
“He showed me a photograph.”
“Of Julian?”
“Yes.”
Roman's heart began pounding.
Narelli's eyes filled.
“He looked older. There was a scar on his chin. But it was him.”
“Where is the photograph?”
“The man took it back.”
“What happened next?”
“He asked for your schedule.”
Roman went still.
“He said he needed to know which entrance you'd use at headquarters tomorrow morning. He said if I cooperated, Julian would be released.”
“Released from where?”
“He wouldn't tell me.”
Roman leaned forward.
“Then why the mug?”
Narelli's expression hardened.
“Because he showed me another photograph.”
“Of what?”
She swallowed.
“My sister.”
Roman knew Narelli had a younger sister named Isabel.
Twenty-two.
A nursing student in Queens.
“He told me Isabel would disappear if I warned you.”
Roman felt anger rise, cold and precise.
“What did you do?”
“I tried to leave.”
“And?”
“He grabbed my wrist. Then my throat.”
Roman looked at the bruise.
Narelli's voice trembled.
“He said I belonged to him until I gave him what he wanted.”
She looked down.
“So I hit him.”
For a moment, Roman said nothing.
Then he asked, “Where is Isabel now?”
Narelli's eyes filled.
“I don't know.”
That was why she had called him.
Not because she needed bail.
Not because she feared losing her job.
Because somewhere in New York, her sister might be in danger, and Narelli had no one else she believed could help.
Roman turned toward Meredith.
“Can we get her medical attention and work with the police to verify Isabel's safety?”
Meredith nodded.
“Yes.”
Roman looked back at Narelli.
“I'm not going to your office at nine.”
Her shoulders loosened.
“But I'm also not going to pretend we know Julian is alive.”
“I understand.”
“We'll find out.”
Narelli stared at him.
Then whispered, “You believe me?”
Roman looked at the blood on her sleeve.
“I believe you were threatened.”
He paused.
May you like
“And I believe you wouldn't invent something about my brother.”
For the first time that night, Narelli cried.
