Chapter 5 - No Locked Doors
Vincent offered Amelia a room in one of his secure houses.
She refused before he finished the sentence.
“No.”
“It has cameras.”
“No.”
“Security.”
“No.”
“Three separate exits.”
“Still no.”
Vincent rubbed his forehead.
Angela watched from behind the counter with obvious amusement.
“You two argue like you’ve been married forty years.”
Amelia and Vincent answered at the same time.
“No.”
Angela grinned.
Vincent lowered his voice.
“Your apartment is compromised.”
“I know.”
“Raymond knows the locker.”
“I know.”
“Salvatore knows you have the drive.”
“I also know that.”
“Then where exactly are you planning to sleep?”
Amelia looked toward Angela.
Angela raised both hands.
“My place has one bedroom, a broken window lock, and a neighbor who thinks a baseball bat is home security.”
Vincent looked back at Amelia.
She sighed.
“One night.”
“Fine.”
“My conditions.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“Of course.”
“No locked bedroom door from the outside.”
“There aren’t any.”
“No men standing inside the house.”
“Outside?”
She considered.
“Outside.”
“No taking my phone.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“No telling me where I can go.”
Vincent’s mouth tightened.
“That one is going to be difficult.”
“Then I’ll stay somewhere else.”
He held up a hand.
“I’ll manage.”
“And if I say I want to leave?”
“I give you a car.”
Amelia studied him.
“You always this agreeable?”
“Never.”
Angela laughed.
The house was not what Amelia expected.
Not a mansion.
A restored brownstone on a quiet Brooklyn street.
Vincent showed her the guest room, kitchen, back stairs, alarm panel, and exits.
Then he placed a key on the table.
“For you.”
She picked it up.
“You’re leaving?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because you asked for no men inside.”
Something strange moved through her chest.
“You could stay.”
Vincent stopped.
She immediately regretted saying it.
“I mean…”
“I know what you mean.”
“No, you don’t.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
“Probably not.”
He went to the front door.
“Marco is across the street. Call if you need anything.”
Amelia looked at him.
“Vincent?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
He nodded once and left.
For the first time in years, Amelia locked a door and knew the man outside would not become angry because she had done it.
She sat at the kitchen table with the flash drive.
The laptop Vincent provided had never been connected to the internet.
Smart.
She entered the password.
ELEANOR0514.
Folders appeared.
Accounts.
Payments.
Photos.
Audio.
The deeper she went, the more she understood why Raymond had hunted her.
This was not ordinary money laundering.
Raymond had built a network of shell companies connecting legitimate developers, politicians, corrupt officers, union officials, and Salvatore’s illegal operations.
One folder was labeled CASTELLANO TRANSITION.
Inside was a spreadsheet.
Dates.
Names.
Payments.
Anthony Castellano — obstruction.
Gabriel Castellano — unpredictable.
Vincent Castellano — successor after stabilization.
Amelia frowned.
Gabriel.
Vincent’s dead brother.
She opened another file.
An audio recording.
Raymond’s voice.
“You’re asking me to clean up two family problems.”
A second voice.
Older.
Salvatore.
“Anthony refuses to retire. Gabriel refuses to listen. Vincent will.”
Raymond laughed.
“And if he doesn’t?”
“Then we find somebody who will.”
Amelia’s skin went cold.
She checked the recording date.
Four years earlier.
Anthony died three years ago.
Gabriel died six months after him.
She immediately called Vincent.
He answered on the first ring.
“What happened?”
“Where are you?”
“Outside.”
She looked through the front curtain.
A black car sat across the street.
“Come inside.”
He reached the door thirty seconds later.
Amelia unlocked it.
Vincent entered alone.
“You okay?”
She turned the laptop toward him.
“Listen.”
The audio played.
Vincent did not move.
When Salvatore mentioned Gabriel, his expression changed.
Barely.
But Amelia recognized pain when she saw it.
“What happened to your brother?”
“Overdose.”
“He used drugs?”
“Yes.”
“Did you believe it was accidental?”
“At the time.”
“And now?”
Vincent replayed the recording.
His jaw flexed.
“My uncle helped raise us.”
Amelia understood the sentence beneath the sentence.
He had loved him.
“Raymond was there when Gabriel died?”
“No.”
“Salvatore?”
Vincent looked at her.
“Yes.”
They searched the files until nearly three in the morning.
More payments.
A medical examiner.
A police detective.
A toxicology technician.
Gabriel’s overdose had been purchased.
Vincent stood abruptly.
Amelia watched him walk toward the window.
“Where are you going?”
“To Salvatore.”
“No.”
He turned.
This time she realized how the word sounded coming from her.
Vincent’s eyebrow rose.
“Apparently we both have the habit.”
“You walk into his house angry, he knows we found the files.”
“He already knows.”
“But he doesn’t know how much.”
Vincent looked toward the laptop.
Amelia approached carefully.
“You told me shouting doesn’t change bail hearings.”
“This isn’t a bail hearing.”
“Same principle.”
His eyes met hers.
“He killed my father.”
“Probably.”
“My brother.”
“Yes.”
“And you want me to sit here?”
“I want you to be smarter than he expects.”
For a long moment Vincent said nothing.
Then he returned to the table.
Amelia exhaled.
“Thank you.”
“Do not mistake this for agreement.”
“I won’t.”
They continued.
At four twenty, Amelia fell asleep sitting upright.
When she woke, sunlight filled the kitchen.
A blanket covered her shoulders.
Vincent was gone.
The laptop remained exactly where she left it.
So did the flash drive.
Beside it was a note.
Coffee in refrigerator. Marco outside. Door locks from your side only.
—V
Amelia read it twice.
Then noticed something else.
A second note.
Not Vincent’s handwriting.
This one was beneath the front door.
She picked it up.
One sentence.
ASK VINCENT WHY HIS BROTHER REALLY DIED.
No signature.
Amelia’s pulse quickened.
She looked out the window.
Nothing unusual.
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered cautiously.
“Hello?”
A woman whispered.
“Amelia Hart?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Nikki Alvarez.”
Derek’s friend.
Amelia gripped the phone.
“How did you get this number?”
“Derek.”
“Why are you calling?”
“Because Raymond is going to kill him.”
“What?”
“He knows Derek talked.”
“I don’t care about Derek.”
“I know.”
Nikki started crying.
“But Derek told me something last night.”
Amelia nearly hung up.
“What?”
“He said Raymond wasn’t the person who found you.”
Her stomach tightened.
“Who was?”
Nikki’s next words left Amelia staring at the locked front door.
“Vincent Castellano found you six months ago.”
May you like
Silence.
“He knew exactly who you were before he ever walked into that diner.”
