Chương 6
Maya Bennett waited beside an old green hatchback, wearing a black wool coat and carrying no visible bag. She did not shake Luca’s hand. She looked at Elena first.
“You were supposed to come alone.”
“I was supposed to wait until he lost hope,” Elena said.
Maya’s gaze shifted to Luca. “Did he?”
“Yes.”
Something in her face softened, then closed again.
They sat in the back of the hatchback with the doors locked. Maya examined the bank envelope without opening it.
“I have Sofia’s originals,” she said.
Luca leaned forward. “Where?”
“Not here.”
“She said someone had them.”
“She gave me documents, not proof of murder.”
“What did she tell you about my father?”
“That he threatened her.”
“With what?”
“Custody. Public humiliation. Financial ruin. He said he would prove she was unstable and take Matteo away.”
Luca looked at Elena. She stared through the windshield.
Maya continued. “She also believed Moretti Environmental had falsified hazardous-waste records for years. She had enough to justify an investigation, perhaps civil claims, perhaps criminal charges. She did not have enough to guarantee any outcome.”
“Why didn’t you go to authorities after she died?”
“I did.”
The answer stopped him.
“I contacted the state attorney general’s office and federal environmental investigators. I gave them copies.”
“And?”
“They opened a preliminary review. Your company produced clean records, sworn declarations, and outside audits. Drivers recanted. Two witnesses refused to speak. One disappeared from the industry. The investigation stalled.”
“You should have told me.”
“I did not trust you.”
“You had no right—”
“Your general counsel sent me a preservation notice three days after Sofia’s funeral. It accused unnamed third parties of stealing proprietary records and threatened litigation. The letter carried your electronic signature.”
Luca remembered signing dozens of documents during the week after the funeral. His father’s lawyers had placed folders in front of him between condolence visits. He had signed because stopping required thought.
“I didn’t read it,” he said.
Maya’s expression did not change. “That is not the defense you think it is.”
Elena lowered her eyes.
Maya removed a thin folder from beneath the driver’s seat. Inside was a printed email from Sofia, dated five days before her death.
If I do not attend Thursday’s meeting, assume I was prevented. Salvatore knows about the Kearny material. Angelo accessed my vehicle file today. I am moving Matteo’s records and the letter tonight.
Luca read it twice.
“What records?”
“Medical screening results from a private pediatric specialist. Nothing diagnostic. Sofia worried about persistent abnormalities. She also worried that Salvatore’s foundation clinic was delaying referrals.”
“My father funded that clinic.”
“Which gave him influence over its board.”
“You are implying they concealed my son’s illness.”
“I’m saying Sofia suspected a conflict. I do not know whether she was right.”
“Where are the medical records?”
“I gave them to a lawyer representing Matteo’s interests after Sofia died.”
“Who?”
“I will tell you after I know what you plan to do.”
Luca stared at her.
Maya held his gaze without bravado. “You are powerful, Mr. Moretti. Powerful men often confuse access with entitlement. I am not giving you names because you ask loudly.”
Elena looked down at her hands. Her wrist had begun to bruise.
Luca saw the mark.
He looked away first.
“What do you need?” he asked.
“Your cooperation.”
“With what?”
“A renewed investigation. Full access to company servers, archived invoices, environmental reports, fleet-maintenance records, internal communications, and board minutes.”
“That would destroy Moretti Holdings.”
“If the records are clean, it would not.”
“They are not clean.”
Maya waited.
Luca rubbed one thumb along the gold chain of his waistcoat. “I knew there were legacy problems.”
“What kind?”
“Unreported cash. Labor arrangements. Disposal contracts that would not survive modern review.”
“Did you know about Kearny?”
“No.”
“Did you ever ask?”
He did not answer.
Maya closed the folder. “There is the difficulty.”
“My son is sick.”
“I know.”
“My wife may have been murdered.”
“I know.”
“My father is following us.”
“I know.”
“And you want me to hand strangers the company before I know what happened.”
“I want you to decide whether the truth matters only when it hurts someone you love.”
The silence inside the hatchback became unbearable.
A train passed beyond the garage wall, metal grinding against metal. Elena adjusted the cuff of her blouse over the bruise.
Luca looked at the bank envelope.
“What can these documents prove?”
“Maybe nothing by themselves. Maybe enough to reopen everything. The photographs establish presence, not purpose. The ledgers may connect shell payments to drivers or disposal sites. The phone could contain messages. The flash drives may hold copies of internal files. But the murder question will require more.”
“Angelo.”
“Perhaps.”
“He accessed her vehicle.”
“That is suspicious. It is not proof he damaged it.”
“He followed us today.”
“Also suspicious. Also not proof.”
Luca disliked her because she refused to make certainty available for purchase.
“What would be proof?”
“A mechanic. A payment. A communication. A witness. A pattern. Something independent of Sofia’s fear.”
“And if I get it?”
“Do not get it by threatening people.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“If you lawfully obtain credible evidence, give it to investigators.”
Luca sat back.
Maya took the envelope addressed to her. “This remains sealed until I open it in front of counsel.”
“It may contain something about my wife.”
“It is addressed to me.”
He let her keep it.
That was his first decision of the day that felt like a loss.
When Luca and Elena returned to the mansion, Salvatore Moretti was sitting beside Matteo’s bed.
He wore a charcoal suit and a pale blue tie. At sixty-eight, he was thinner than he had been before the stroke, but the illness had not softened his face. His silver hair was combed straight back. A cane rested against the chair. One hand lay on Matteo’s blanket while the boy slept.
May you like
The nurse stood near the window, visibly relieved when Luca entered.
“Mr. Moretti arrived twenty minutes ago,” she said.
