Chương 13
Teresa closed her eyes.
Elena could barely speak.
“What did you say?”
“I’m sorry.”
“What is under my mother’s grave?”
“Not under it.”
His voice dropped.
“Inside the monument.”
Elena stared at Teresa.
The phone crackled.
Then Michael said, “And Elena, whatever Teresa tells you next, ask her who put it there.”
The call ended.
Teresa did not answer.
Elena watched her grandmother’s face and felt the silence become an answer anyway.
“Who put it there?”
Teresa looked toward the closed waiting-room door.
“Your father.”
Elena’s fingers tightened around the phone.
“That isn’t what he meant.”
“No.”
“Then answer me.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“Teresa.”
“Don’t.”
“You’ve had twenty-eight years to decide how much silence was enough.”
Teresa gave her a tired, vicious look.
“And you’ve had fifteen minutes to become righteous.”
Elena stepped between them.
“Who put the ledger inside my mother’s monument?”
Teresa’s eyes came back to hers.
“I did.”
Nobody spoke.
The elevator bell sounded beyond the wall.
A nurse laughed at something someone said, and the ordinary sound made Elena want to break the coffee machine.
“My mother was dead.”
“Yes.”
“You used her grave.”
“Yes.”
“For Grandpa.”
“For you.”
Elena recoiled as if Teresa had touched her.
“Do not do that.”
“Do what?”
“Turn this into love.”
Teresa’s mouth opened, then closed.
Anthony pushed away from the wall.
“If the ledger is still there, Calderone knows where it is now.”
Rachel stood.
“Michael told Elena on a phone Calderone may already be monitoring.”
“He told us because there isn’t time.”
Elena looked at Teresa.
“Is it still there?”
“I don’t know.”
“You put it there.”
“Twenty-eight years ago.”
“Then we go find out.”
Teresa shook her head.
“No.”
Elena laughed once.
It sounded ugly even to her.
“That word has had an incredible night.”
“Elena, listen to me.”
“No.”
She walked out.
Anthony caught up before the elevators.
“I’m coming.”
“I didn’t invite you.”
“You didn’t hire me either, and somehow I’m still here.”
Rachel followed with the envelope tucked beneath her arm.
Teresa remained in the waiting room for several seconds.
Then she came after them.
The cemetery gates were locked.
Elena stood beneath the yellow streetlamp and stared through the iron bars at rows of stones disappearing into darkness.
“Perfect.”
Anthony examined the chain.
“We’re not climbing.”
“I climbed this fence when I was seventeen.”
Teresa said, “And tore your jeans.”
Elena turned.
“You remember that?”
“You came home pretending you had fallen off a bicycle.”
“I didn’t own a bicycle.”
“I know.”
For one absurd second Elena nearly laughed.
Then headlights swept across them.
A dark sedan stopped beside the curb.
Michael got out.
Elena crossed the distance before anyone could stop her.
She hit him in the chest with both hands.
He staggered backward.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“A lot, apparently.”
“Do not make a joke.”
“I wasn’t.”
She searched his face.
There was dried blood along his collar and a swelling beneath his left eye.
“You said you were okay.”
“I’ve been worse.”
“Whose blood was on Rachel?”
“Mine.”
Rachel came closer.
“You told me it was superficial.”
“It is.”
“You bled on half my office.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“You said you’d pay for the chair.”
Elena grabbed her father’s coat.
“Who did this?”
“Two men who wanted the envelope.”
“Calderone’s?”
“I assume.”
“You assume?”
“They neglected to introduce themselves.”
Anthony said, “How did you get away?”
Michael looked at him.
“Who are you?”
“The man your lawyer hired to follow your son.”
Michael glanced at Rachel.
“You hired somebody?”
“You told me Nico was being used.”
“I told you I suspected it.”
“You also told me not to involve police, federal agents, your mother, Elena, or anyone with common sense.”
Michael rubbed his jaw.
“That sounds like me.”
Elena shook him.
“Stop.”
His humor vanished.
“Okay.”
“Why did Grandma put the ledger in Mom’s monument?”
Michael looked past her at Teresa.
“Because my father asked her to.”
Teresa said, “That isn’t the whole truth.”
“No.”
“Then tell her yours.”
Michael looked at Elena.
“Your mother knew.”
Elena released his coat.
The night seemed to tilt slightly.
“Knew what?”
“About the ledger.”
Teresa said his name as a warning.
Michael ignored her.
“She knew what my father was trying to do.”
Elena stared at him.
“My mother was twenty-four.”
“She was smarter than all of us.”
“That doesn’t answer anything.”
“She found the transfers.”
Rachel stepped closer.
“Which transfers?”
“The reserve.”
Michael nodded toward the envelope.
“Those records are incomplete.”
“Who took the money?”
Michael looked at Teresa.
“My uncle Vincent.”
Teresa closed her eyes.
Elena knew the name.
Vincent Vassallo had died when she was twelve.
She remembered Christmas cigars, loud shirts, and a laugh that always arrived before the joke.
“M.V.,” Rachel said.
“Marco Vincent Vassallo.”
Michael nodded.
“My father’s younger brother.”
Anthony said, “So Calderone framed you using your uncle’s middle name.”
“No.”
Michael looked toward the cemetery.
“Vincent framed me.”
Teresa whispered, “Enough.”
Michael turned on her.
“You buried enough.”
The words landed harder than shouting.
Teresa’s shoulders dropped.
Michael continued.
“Vincent was moving the reserve with Salvatore Calderone.”
“Why?”
Elena asked.
“To make sure my father couldn’t leave.”
“And Velez found out.”
“Yes.”
“Did Vincent kill him?”
Michael’s face changed.
“I don’t know.”
“You’ve spent all these years and you still don’t know?”
“No.”
The honesty hurt more than another secret would have.
Michael reached into his coat and removed a small brass key.
“The caretaker’s gate.”
Anthony frowned.
“You have a cemetery key?”
“My father paid for the gate.”
“That is an extremely Vassallo answer.”
Michael unlocked the side entrance.
They walked between the stones without flashlights until Elena stopped.
Her mother’s name emerged from the darkness in pale granite.
LUCIA MARIE VASSALLO.
1968–1992.
Elena had visited the grave hundreds of times.
May you like
She had brought flowers, report cards, a college acceptance letter, and once, after too much wine, a photograph of a man she thought she might marry.
All those years, paperwork had been inside the stone.
