Chương 5
“No,” Elena said.
Denise looked at Luca. “Then he’ll need to remain outside the vault area.”
“He comes with me.”
“I’m afraid the account holder is the only person permitted past the gate.”
Luca placed a business card on the desk.
Denise glanced at the name and became more careful, not more cooperative. “Mr. Moretti, bank policy—”
“Follow the policy,” Elena said.
He turned to her.
She held out her hand. “The key.”
He did not give it to her immediately.
Denise looked between them. “Is there a problem?”
“No,” Elena said.
Luca placed the key in her palm.
He waited in a chair beside a display of mortgage brochures. A television mounted above the lobby showed a cooking segment with the sound off. A woman explained something cheerful about lemons. Luca watched the vault door close behind Elena and felt the irrational certainty that she would leave through another exit.
Seven minutes passed.
At nine minutes, he stood.
At eleven, Denise returned.
“Ms. Rossi asked that you join her in a private conference room.”
The room contained a small table, four chairs, and no windows. Elena stood beside an open metal box. She had arranged the contents without touching more than necessary.
There were two flash drives sealed in plastic evidence bags, a stack of photocopied manifests, a notebook, three photographs, a prepaid phone with its battery removed, and a sealed white envelope addressed to Maya Bennett.
Luca recognized Sofia’s handwriting again.
He sat.
The first photograph showed a Moretti Environmental truck entering the Kearny property at 1:12 in the morning. The second showed barrels in a trench. The third showed Salvatore standing beside Angelo DeSantis near the open gate. The timestamp was from six years earlier, when Salvatore had already claimed to be uninvolved in operations.
The manifests listed demolition debris. The notebook recorded vehicle numbers, dates, drivers, and payments. Sofia’s handwriting changed across the pages. Early entries were neat. The later ones became cramped and hurried.
Elena touched the envelope addressed to Maya.
“We should not open this.”
Luca looked at her as if she had spoken another language.
“It isn’t addressed to us,” she said.
“My wife is dead.”
“That does not make every private thing she left yours.”
“It concerns my company.”
“It concerns people who lived near your company.”
He picked up the envelope.
Elena put her hand over it.
He could have moved her. Instead he let the tension remain between their hands.
“Who is Maya Bennett?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“You expect me to believe that too?”
“I have never heard the name.”
He took out his phone and searched.
Maya Bennett was an attorney with a small environmental justice organization in Newark. Her biography listed previous work at the state attorney general’s office. A photo showed a woman in her forties with short hair and a skeptical expression.
Luca called the number on the website.
Elena reached for the phone. “Sofia told you not to confront anyone.”
“She told me not to confront my father.”
“Calling a stranger from your own number is not caution.”
He ended the call before it connected.
She removed the prepaid phone from the box.
“No battery,” she said. “No charger.”
“There will be one in the car.”
“My car barely has a window.”
“It has a charger.”
They photographed each item in the box, then signed them out in a bank envelope. Denise insisted on recording the removal. Luca appreciated the documentation and resented her for it at the same time.
Outside, the blue SUV waited across the street.
This time there was no uncertainty.
Angelo DeSantis sat behind the wheel.
He had worked for the Moretti family for twenty-seven years. He had taught Luca how to throw a punch without breaking his thumb. He had stood beside Salvatore at Sofia’s funeral and carried one corner of her coffin.
Angelo did not look away when Luca saw him.
Elena stopped beside the sedan.
“What do we do?”
Luca opened the passenger door. “We let him follow.”
They drove south toward New Jersey. Angelo remained three cars behind them. Luca used Elena’s phone to call Maya Bennett’s office. He gave only his first name and said he had a letter from Sofia Moretti.
The receptionist went silent.
“One moment.”
Maya answered less than a minute later.
“Where are you?”
“Driving.”
“Are you being followed?”
Luca looked in the side mirror. “Yes.”
“Do not come to my office.”
“Why?”
“Because Mrs. Moretti told me that if anyone used her name after her death, I should assume the company was monitoring them.”
“My wife told you that?”
“She told me many things. I have spent eighteen months wondering whether any of them were true.”
“They are.”
A pause.
“Who is with you?”
“Elena Rossi.”
Maya exhaled. “Put me on speaker.”
Elena glanced at the phone mounted near the dashboard.
“You know me?” she asked.
“I know your name. Sofia said you might bring a key someday.”
“We opened the box.”
Another pause, longer this time.
“Did you remove the contents?”
“Yes,” Luca said.
“Then you’ve already made a mistake.”
Anger rose automatically. “Explain.”
“The box was a timestamp. An independent location with access records. If the material is challenged, opposing counsel will ask what happened after you removed it.”
“We documented everything.”
“Good. That makes it a smaller mistake.”
“No one asked for your opinion.”
“You called me.”
Elena’s mouth moved slightly. Not a smile, exactly.
Maya continued. “There is a parking garage at the Harrison PATH station. Level four, east side. Arrive in forty minutes. If the vehicle following you enters, do not stop. Call me again.”
The line disconnected.
Angelo followed them onto the interstate.
“He wants us to know,” Elena said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because fear is faster than force.”
May you like
The phrase belonged to Salvatore. Luca had heard it at dinner tables, in offices, once beside a hospital bed after an employee’s son had been beaten. Salvatore treated intimidation as a form of efficiency.
At the Harrison garage, Angelo’s SUV continued past the entrance.
