Chapter 3 - THE STORAGE UNIT THAT SHOULDN'T EXIST
Harborlight Depository had supposedly closed in 1998.
But the address still existed.
The building stood beside an abandoned industrial stretch of the Chicago River, surrounded by chain-link fencing and weeds.
Dante arrived with his attorney, Rebecca Hale, and a licensed private investigator named Thomas Reed.
He had learned enough from Enzo's death to understand that charging into a dark building with armed men would only destroy evidence.
They entered through the property manager after verifying that the key matched a surviving storage locker.
Unit 314.
Inside were three cardboard boxes.
A battered suitcase.
And a small wooden rocking horse.
Dante stared at the toy.
He remembered it.
His mother had bought it before Enzo was born.
But she had told him it was destroyed in a house fire.
Rebecca opened the first box.
Inside were old bank statements.
Property deeds.
And a folder marked MERCER TRUST – 1996.
The second box contained photographs.
The third held letters.
Dante picked up one envelope.
It was addressed to his father.
The handwriting belonged to his mother.
Vittorio,
I know what happened to Isabella.
I know the baby survived.
And I will not let you bury another child to protect your name.
Dante stopped breathing.
His mother, Lucia Rizzo, had died when he was sixteen.
She had never mentioned Isabella.
Or a baby.
Rebecca looked up.
“Dante, there's more.”
She handed him a birth certificate.
The child's name was Gabriel Mercer.
Born October 14, 1996.
Mother: Isabella Mercer.
Father: Vittorio Rizzo.
Dante stared.
His father had another son.
A child born outside his marriage.
A child hidden from the family for thirty years.
But the next document was worse.
It was a death certificate for Isabella Mercer.
Dated October 20, 1996.
Six days after Gabriel's birth.
Cause of death: undetermined.
Dante looked toward the rocking horse.
His mother had known.
Enzo had discovered the secret.
And now Enzo was dead.
Thomas Reed examined a set of recent access records.
“Someone opened this unit last month.”
Dante turned.
“Who?”
Thomas handed him a copy of the signature.
The name was Enzo Rizzo.
But the second access entry, dated the morning after Enzo's murder, carried another name.
Vittorio Rizzo.
Dante stared at his father's signature.
Then looked at the boxes.
Someone had been here after Enzo died.
May you like
And that person had left behind enough evidence to destroy the family.
Unless, Dante thought, someone wanted him to find it.
