Chapter 8 - THE HOUSE AT THE END OF THE ROAD
They found Lucia in a small farmhouse outside Traverse City.
She was twenty.
She worked with injured horses.
She had been living alone for nearly a year.
Carlo Vescari had disappeared again shortly after her nineteenth birthday.
Roman approached the property with Norah and a licensed investigator.
No convoy.
No display of power.
Just three people in an ordinary vehicle.
Lucia was standing beside a brown mare when they arrived.
She wore jeans, a heavy sweater, and rubber boots.
Her dark hair was tied back.
Roman stopped walking.
For a moment, he couldn't breathe.
Lucia looked toward them.
“Can I help you?”
Roman opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Norah stepped forward.
“Hello.”
Lucia looked at her.
Then froze.
Her eyes widened.
“You.”
Norah felt the world stop.
Lucia took a step backward.
“I know you.”
Norah's throat tightened.
“Do you?”
Lucia stared at her shoulder.
Even beneath the sweater, the old scar's outline was faintly visible near the collar.
“I dreamed about you.”
Norah began crying.
Lucia looked frightened.
“In my dreams, there was fire. You carried me.”
Norah nodded.
“Yes.”
Lucia's eyes filled.
“I thought you died.”
Norah shook her head.
“No, sweetheart.”
Lucia looked toward Roman.
“Who is he?”
Roman stepped forward.
“My name is Roman Bellandi.”
Lucia's expression changed.
“Bellandi?”
He nodded.
“I'm your brother.”
She laughed nervously.
“No.”
Roman swallowed.
“I know this is difficult.”
“No.”
Lucia stepped backward.
“My father told me the Bellandis killed my mother.”
Roman went still.
Norah looked at him.
Lucia continued.
“He said they were dangerous people. He said if I ever went near them, they'd kill me too.”
Roman's eyes filled.
“Your mother is alive.”
Lucia stared.
“No.”
“Her name is Teresa.”
Lucia's hands began shaking.
Roman took out a photograph.
A family picture from before the fire.
Lucia looked at it.
Her face changed.
She touched the image of Teresa.
Then whispered:
“I remember her.”
Norah began crying.
Lucia looked up.
“Is she really alive?”
Roman nodded.
“Yes.”
The young woman covered her mouth.
Then sank onto the wooden fence.
For thirteen years, she'd believed her mother had abandoned her.
Now she was learning that everything she'd been told was a lie.
Roman approached slowly.
“Lucia, we don't expect you to trust us immediately.”
She looked at him.
“We only want you to know the truth.”
Lucia stared at the photograph.
Then whispered:
“Why did he take me?”
May you like
Roman's face hardened.
“I intend to find out.”
