Chapter 4 - WHAT OUR MOTHERS HID
My mother had never mentioned Elena Bellano.
Not once.
I searched everything she'd left behind.
Tax files.
Letters.
Old photographs.
Finally I remembered the blue ceramic mug.
My mother had bought it at a craft fair.
Or so she'd told me.
I dropped it.
Vincent heard it shatter.
“Claire?”
“I'm fine.”
Inside the broken ceramic base was a tiny brass key.
My mother had hidden something inside the mug twenty years ago.
The key opened a safe-deposit box in Providence.
Inside were letters.
Elena's letters.
My mother had been her physical therapist after a riding accident.
They became friends.
When Elena realized Salvatore might kill her, she gave Margaret copies of financial records.
My mother hid them.
Then she spent the rest of her life terrified.
One letter was addressed to me.
Claire,
If you ever read this, I'm sorry I made silence part of your inheritance.
My mother explained that years later Salvatore found her.
He threatened me.
She surrendered most of the evidence.
But not everything.
The final item was a music box.
Vincent recognized the melody immediately.
“My mother's waltz.”
Inside was a microfilm strip.
Names.
Dates.
Payments.
Enough to prove Elena's murder.
Enough to implicate Salvatore.
Not enough to prove Julian's crimes.
Vincent wanted to go directly to federal authorities.
Then Salvatore called.
“Come home.”
Vincent's face became stone.
“Where?”
“The old house.”
We drove to the Bellano estate.
Salvatore waited alone.
Seventy-three.
Silver-haired.
Elegant.
He embraced Vincent.
Vincent didn't return it.
“You killed my mother.”
Salvatore went silent.
Then said, “Yes.”
No denial.
No excuse.
Just yes.
Vincent trembled.
“Why?”
“She was going to destroy the family.”
“She was family.”
Salvatore's voice softened.
“That was always your weakness. You thought blood made people innocent.”
Vincent moved toward him.
I touched his arm.
He stopped.
Salvatore noticed.
“So this is Claire.”
Vincent stepped between us.
Salvatore smiled.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The thing I feared.”
Vincent's jaw tightened.
“What thing?”
“A reason for you to become better than us.”
Salvatore admitted ordering the bomb that blinded Vincent.
He hadn't intended Vincent to survive.
Julian had convinced him Vincent planned to cooperate with federal prosecutors.
“Where is Julian?” Vincent demanded.
Salvatore laughed bitterly.
“That's the tragedy.”
“What?”
“I haven't controlled Julian in years.”
A shot shattered the window.
Salvatore jerked.
Blood spread across his shirt.
Vincent caught him.
Outside, tires screamed.
Julian.
Salvatore died in Vincent's arms.
But before dying, he whispered:
“Don't trust your father.”
Vincent froze.
Angelo.
The supposedly innocent prisoner.
The man we had rescued.
When we returned to Jamestown, Angelo was gone.
So were six guards.
On his pillow was a note.
May you like
YOU ALWAYS DID BELIEVE THE BEST LIE FIRST, SON.
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