Chapter 5 - THE BROTHER WHO NEVER CAME HOME
Lorenzo's mother lived in a white house surrounded by magnolia trees.
Isabella Vescari had not entered the family mansion since Matteo's funeral.
She blamed the organization for his death.
And she blamed Lorenzo for remaining its leader.
When Lorenzo arrived with Millie, Isabella opened the door reluctantly.
Then she saw the child.
Her hand flew to her mouth.
"Matteo?"
Millie hid behind Lorenzo's leg.
Isabella began crying.
Lorenzo knelt.
"Millie, this is your grandmother."
The little girl peered around him.
"Nonna?"
Isabella covered her face.
For six years, she had dreamed of hearing a grandchild call her that.
Now the word came from a stranger with Matteo's eyes.
Inside, Isabella brought out an old photograph album.
Millie sat beside her.
They looked at pictures of Matteo as a boy.
Matteo riding a bicycle.
Matteo fishing.
Matteo holding a birthday cake.
Millie pointed at one photograph.
"Mommy has this one."
Lorenzo stared.
"She does?"
Millie nodded.
"Mommy says Daddy was the nicest boy in the whole world."
Isabella began crying again.
Lorenzo looked away.
He had spent years remembering Matteo's recklessness.
Clara had remembered his kindness.
Later, Isabella took Lorenzo into the kitchen.
"Tell me everything."
He explained the notebook, the ledger, and Clara's disappearance.
Isabella listened.
Then asked:
"Did you ever see Matteo's body?"
Lorenzo went still.
"The casket was closed."
"Did you identify him?"
"The medical examiner confirmed—"
"Did you?"
He looked down.
"No."
Isabella closed her eyes.
"I told you something was wrong."
Lorenzo remembered.
She had insisted the funeral was too quick.
The documents too vague.
The explanations too convenient.
He had dismissed her concerns as grief.
Now he wondered whether grief had made her see what he refused to see.
That afternoon, Amelia called.
"We found the transport company."
Lorenzo gripped the phone.
"And?"
"It operated under several names. One was registered to a medical facility outside Baton Rouge."
"Is Matteo there?"
"The facility closed four years ago."
Lorenzo's hope faltered.
Amelia continued.
"But a former administrator remembers a patient transferred under a false name."
"What name?"
"Michael Reed."
Lorenzo went silent.
"Where was he transferred?"
"We're still tracing it."
Then Amelia said:
"There's something else. The administrator described the patient as having a severe head injury."
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
For the first time in six years, he allowed himself to imagine his brother alive.
Not safe.
Not healthy.
May you like
But alive.
And somewhere in Louisiana, Clara Bennett was being held because she had found the truth first.
