Chapter 11 - THE EVIDENCE PIETRO HID IN PLAIN SIGHT
The answer was in my grandfather's workshop.
A narrow garage behind the apartment building where we'd lived before I moved out.
Pietro had rented it for thirty years.
After his death, I'd kept paying the rent because I couldn't bring myself to throw away his tools.
Dante came with me.
So did Isabella.
We opened the garage.
Dust floated through the afternoon light.
Everything smelled of machine oil.
I looked at the workbench.
The old radio.
The metal drawers.
The calendar still hanging on the wall.
October.
The month Pietro died.
Isabella walked toward a cabinet.
"Did he ever mention a red toolbox?"
I turned.
"Yes."
She pointed.
"There."
I opened it.
Inside were ordinary tools.
Wrenches.
Screwdrivers.
A measuring tape.
Then I noticed the false bottom.
I lifted it.
Beneath was a sealed envelope.
Inside were copies of shipping records.
Bank transfers.
And a handwritten statement from my father.
I read slowly.
My father had discovered evidence that Salvatore's organization was using legitimate freight operations to conceal illegal shipments.
He intended to report the activity.
Shortly afterward, he and my mother died.
The documents did not prove who caused the crash.
But they raised serious questions.
At the bottom of the envelope was a letter addressed to me.
Nora,
If you are reading this, I am no longer here to protect you.
I told you the crash was an accident because I wanted you to have a childhood.
I was wrong to keep the truth from you.
Your father was a brave man.
Your mother was braver.
They tried to do the right thing.
Do not let fear decide the rest of your life.
Love, Nonno.
I began crying.
Dante moved closer.
Then stopped.
"May I?"
I nodded.
May you like
He held me.
And for the first time since Pietro died, I allowed myself to grieve without pretending I was fine.
