Chapter 3 - The Driver Who Knew Too Much
Frankie had driven Gabriel for twelve years.
He knew which streets to avoid.
Which restaurants had back doors.
Which traffic lights stayed red too long when police were setting a trap.
He knew Gabriel’s coffee order, his mother’s cemetery plot, and the fact that Gabriel hated helicopters despite owning two.
He had never been late.
He had never been caught lying.
That did not mean he never had.
Gabriel called him upstairs.
Frankie entered smiling.
The smile disappeared when he saw Norah.
Then the old check.
Then Marisol’s file.
“What is this?”
Gabriel did not answer.
Norah did.
“My sister.”
Frankie looked at her.
“I know.”
Norah stood despite the pain.
“Where is she?”
“I don’t know.”
Gabriel’s voice was quiet.
“Wrong answer.”
Frankie looked at him.
“I knew where she was eight years ago.”
Norah moved before either man could stop her.
She crossed the room and slapped Frankie.
Hard.
Pain shot through her injured hand.
She did not care.
“Norah.”
Gabriel’s voice held warning.
She turned on him.
“Do not protect him from me.”
“I’m protecting your hand.”
That took some of the fury out of her.
Only some.
Frankie touched his cheek.
“I deserved that.”
“Start talking.”
Eight years earlier, Marisol Hayes worked as Dominic Rossi’s assistant at East Meridian.
She found invoices.
Not drugs.
Not guns.
Women.
Travel reimbursements.
Hotel rooms.
Cash payments to recruiters.
Dominic had been using nightclubs to identify vulnerable young women and funnel them to private parties for wealthy clients.
Gabriel went perfectly still.
“Say that again.”
Frankie looked at him.
“Your uncle ran women through East Meridian.”
“You knew.”
“I found out after Marisol did.”
“And you said nothing.”
“I told your father.”
Gabriel’s expression changed.
His father had died six years ago.
“What did he do?”
“He told me to get Marisol out.”
Norah stopped breathing.
“Out where?”
“Safe house in Maine.”
“You took her?”
“Yes.”
Norah grabbed the edge of the table.
“Then why didn’t she call us?”
Frankie looked at her with real pain.
“Because Dominic found your mother.”
Norah went white.
“What?”
“He sent men to her apartment. No violence. Just a message. If Marisol contacted anyone, he would make the family disappear.”
Norah’s voice broke for the first time.
“My mother spent five years thinking Marisol was dead.”
“I know.”
“No, you do not.”
Frankie looked down.
Norah continued.
“She died thinking her daughter chose not to come home.”
Gabriel watched her anger collapse into grief.
He did not move toward her.
She would not want it.
Frankie said, “Marisol agreed to vanish.”
“Where is she now?”
“I lost contact after Dominic died.”
“How?”
“Your father moved her again.”
Gabriel looked up.
“Why?”
“Because somebody else was looking.”
“Moretti?”
Frankie nodded.
“Dominic sold access to Moretti clients too. When he died, the records disappeared. Moretti wanted Marisol because they thought she had copies.”
Norah’s eyes sharpened.
“Did she?”
Frankie did not answer.
She laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
Gabriel said, “Did she?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Norah sat.
Not because she wanted to.
Because her legs had stopped cooperating.
Gabriel turned to Frankie.
“You deleted the relocation page.”
“Yes.”
“To protect her?”
“Yes.”
“Why keep the threat assessment?”
“So if anyone searched, they would believe the Rossi family still knew where she was.”
Norah stared at him.
“You used us as a shield without telling us.”
Frankie nodded.
“I’m sorry.”
She looked away.
Gabriel asked, “Who else knows this?”
“Your father knew. Maya knew Marisol existed but not why. Me.”
“And Dominic?”
“Dead.”
“Moretti.”
“Yes.”
Gabriel went to the window.
For years he had defended the Rossi name as though family sin could be separated by generation.
His uncle’s crimes did not become his.
But the empire had absorbed the profits.
Buildings.
Restaurants.
Influence.
Money did not forget where it came from just because the men changed suits.
Norah watched his reflection.
“Do not make this about your guilt.”
He turned.
Her eyes were red.
Still sharp.
“I need my sister.”
Gabriel nodded.
“What do you remember from Maine?” she asked Frankie.
“House near Rockland. Blue shutters. Woman named Evelyn Park.”
“Address?”
Frankie shook his head.
“Your father arranged it.”
Gabriel looked at Maya.
“Find it.”
Maya left immediately.
Norah picked up the old check.
“I hated Rossi for eight years.”
Gabriel’s face tightened.
“Which one?”
“All of you.”
“Fair.”
She looked at him.
“You don’t get points for accepting that.”
“I know.”
Frankie’s phone vibrated.
He glanced at the screen.
Then froze.
Gabriel saw.
“What?”
Frankie turned the phone.
Unknown number.
A photograph.
A blue house near the water.
Front door open.
No one visible.
Underneath:
YOU’RE EIGHT YEARS LATE.
Norah stood.
Gabriel reached for his coat.
She looked at him.
“Where are you going?”
“With you.”
“I did not ask.”
“No.”
She waited.
Gabriel corrected himself.
“Do you want me there?”
Norah stared.
Then nodded once.
May you like
“Yes.”
That was the first time she had ever asked Gabriel Rossi for anything.
