Chapter 2 - CLARA’S ENVELOPE
Hannah’s apartment sat above a laundromat in Rogers Park.
Vincent did not come.
She had expected him to ignore the agreement.
He didn't.
Eleanor accompanied her.
Marcus stayed downstairs.
One guard.
As promised.
Hannah found the envelope inside a blue sewing box beneath her bed.
Her mother’s handwriting covered the front.
FOR NINO — ONLY IF HANNAH FINDS HIM
The sight hurt.
Hannah had owned it for four years.
Never understood.
Never opened.
Now she sat at her tiny kitchen table while Eleanor stood near the window.
“Would you like privacy?”
“Yes.”
Eleanor left.
Hannah opened the envelope.
Inside:
A brass key.
An old photograph.
One folded letter.
The photograph showed Clara at perhaps twenty-seven.
Beautiful.
Laughing.
Beside her stood a teenage boy.
Vincent.
Sixteen.
Thinner.
Hair too long.
A motorcycle jacket.
One arm around Clara’s shoulders.
On the back:
Nino finally smiled. March 2002.
Hannah swallowed.
Then unfolded the letter.
My Hannah,
Not for Vincent.
For her.
Hannah’s eyes filled immediately.
If you are reading this, then you found the boy from the fire. He is not a boy anymore, and neither are you. I hoped neither of you would ever need what I kept.
She continued.
Vincent’s mother, Lucia Duca, was my employer, but she became my friend. She discovered that Carlo Salerno was stealing money from Duca companies and from the charitable foundation she created for families displaced by violence.
Carlo Salerno.
Dominic’s father.
Lucia asked me to make copies because she believed someone inside her husband’s organization was helping Carlo.
Hannah’s breathing slowed.
The night of the fire, Lucia planned to bring the records to an attorney. Someone came first.
Then:
The alarms did not work.
Hannah stopped.
She remembered Vincent’s scar.
Smoke.
His mother dying.
I found Vincent in the rear bedroom. Lucia was trapped near the front. I tried to return. The ceiling came down between us.
Hannah covered her mouth.
Vincent kept looking at the flames instead of me. I held his face and told him, “Look at me, Nino. Not the fire. Me.”
There it was.
The name.
His mother called him Nino when he was little. I used it because it was the only word that reached him.
Tears hit the paper.
I got him out. I could not get Lucia out. I have lived with that every day.
Hannah whispered:
“Oh, Mom.”
Then came the part that changed everything.
Two nights later, Carlo Salerno came to my apartment. He knew I had copied Lucia’s files. He told me if I gave them back, Hannah would grow up safely.
Hannah had been two.
I lied and said the papers burned. Then I ran.
Chicago.
Milwaukee.
Detroit.
Cleveland.
Eventually Baltimore? No, Hannah now Chicago. Better they returned to Chicago under ordinary life years later? We need locale. Hannah works Chicago. Clara maybe ultimately returned when Carlo died? But Carlo perhaps died nine years ago. Dominic had continued looking. Let's keep they moved widely then returned to Chicago under surname Brooks since already surname? Hmm Carlo knew Clara Brooks. Maybe she lived in suburbs and stayed invisible. Fine.
I moved whenever I thought someone had found us. You thought I hated staying in one place. I am sorry for every school you had to leave.
Hannah cried harder.
So many unexplained childhood moves.
Finally:
The key opens Box 318 at Lakeview Private Storage. The contract is in my name. Everything Lucia and I saved is inside.
Then one final paragraph.
There is one thing Vincent does not know. Carlo was not alone that night. His son Dominic was there.
Hannah stopped.
Dominic.
He was nineteen. I saw him at the utility panel beneath the stairs before the alarms failed. Whether he knew his father intended murder, I cannot say. But he lied to police and said he was across town.
Hannah read the sentence twice.
Dominic Salerno.
Vincent’s ally of fifteen years.
Had been there the night Lucia died.
At the bottom:
Do not give Vincent this letter if he has become the kind of man who values vengeance more than truth. Give it to a lawyer instead.
Hannah almost laughed through tears.
Typical Mom.
Even from the grave, conditions.
She folded the letter.
Called Vincent.
He answered instantly.
“Did you find it?”
“Yes.”
Pause.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
A better question than where is the evidence.
Progress.
“My mother left a key.”
“To what?”
“A storage box.”
“And?”
Hannah looked at the letter.
“She said Dominic was at the fire.”
Silence.
Nothing.
Then a quiet sound.
Vincent sitting down.
“You're sure?”
“Yes.”
“What exactly did she say?”
“I’ll show you.”
Another pause.
“Hannah.”
“Yes?”
“Do not go to that storage facility tonight.”
She stiffened.
“Ask.”
Vincent exhaled.
“Please do not go until Detective Moreno and an independent attorney can secure it properly.”
Better.
Hannah looked at her mother’s photograph.
“Okay.”
Then she added:
“One more thing.”
“What?”
“My mother wrote that I shouldn’t give you anything if you care more about revenge than truth.”
Vincent was silent so long Hannah almost thought the line dropped.
Finally:
May you like
“She knew me well.”
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