CHAPTER 6 — THE MAN WHO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD
We drove through Chicago without speaking.
The rain had returned.
It streaked across the windshield in silver lines.
Dominic drove.
I sat beside him.
My mother's voice kept repeating inside my head.
Don't trust Dominic.
I wanted to believe her.
She was my mother.
But there was something else.
The look on Dominic's face when I told him what she had said.
He hadn't become angry.
He hadn't defended himself.
He hadn't asked me to believe him.
He had simply said:
“Then we find out why she said it.”
That scared me more.
“You're not going to ask me to trust you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother may have a reason.”
I looked at him.
“You believe her?”
“I believe she is afraid.”
“Of you?”
“Possibly.”
“Are you dangerous?”
“Yes.”
The answer came immediately.
I stared out the window.
At least he didn't lie.
After several minutes, I asked:
“Did your father kill mine?”
Dominic's hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“I don't know.”
“Did Matteo?”
“I don't know.”
“Did Richard Whitmore?”
“I don't know.”
“You know a lot of things for someone who knows nothing.”
He glanced at me.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“I have spent eight years trying to discover who betrayed my father.”
“Why?”
“Because my father died believing someone close to him had betrayed him.”
I turned.
“Your father died too?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Heart attack.”
“Do you believe that?”
“No.”
Silence.
“Why?”
“Because three days before he died, he told me something.”
“What?”
“He said, ‘Never trust the Carter family.’”
I stared at him.
My stomach dropped.
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did you help me?”
“Because I didn't believe him.”
“Why not?”
Dominic looked at me.
“Because your father saved my life.”
The words hit me harder than expected.
“When?”
“I was nineteen.”
“What happened?”
“Someone tried to kill me.”
“Who?”
“My uncle.”
I stared at him.
“Matteo?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because my father was preparing to remove him from the organization.”
I looked at the road.
“Your family is insane.”
Dominic almost smiled.
“That's one way to describe it.”
I didn't smile.
“My father knew?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did he stay?”
“Because he believed he could protect my father.”
“And failed.”
“Yes.”
His voice became quieter.
“My father died.”
A pause.
“Yours died the next day.”
I looked at him.
“What happened between those deaths?”
“We don't know.”
“Maybe my mother does.”
“Yes.”
“Maybe that's why they took her.”
“Yes.”
The car slowed.
Ahead was an abandoned industrial district.
The buildings were dark.
Rusting warehouses lined the river.
I looked at Dominic.
“This is where my father died?”
“According to the official report.”
“Where exactly?”
He pointed toward a warehouse.
“That one.”
We stopped.
Dominic reached for his weapon.
I did the same.
He looked at me.
“You stay behind me.”
“No.”
“Avery.”
“I know how to fight.”
“I know.”
“Then stop treating me like glass.”
He studied me.
Then nodded.
“Stay close.”
We entered.
The warehouse smelled of rust and oil.
Water dripped from the ceiling.
Our footsteps echoed.
I saw blood on the floor.
Fresh.
Dominic crouched.
“Someone was here.”
“Recently?”
“Yes.”
We moved deeper.
Then we heard a voice.
“Avery.”
My heart stopped.
“Mom?”
I ran forward.
Dominic grabbed me.
“Wait.”
A figure stepped out of the darkness.
My mother.
Her hands were tied.
Her face was bruised.
But she was alive.
“Mom!”
She looked at me.
“Don't come closer.”
“It's okay.”
“No.”
She looked past me.
At Dominic.
“Stay away from him.”
Dominic froze.
“Linda.”
My mother flinched.
“You shouldn't have brought her here.”
“I didn't know you'd be here.”
“You were always supposed to know.”
Dominic frowned.
“What does that mean?”
My mother looked at me.
Then at him.
“Your father betrayed us.”
Dominic's expression changed.
“What?”
“His father.”
My mother swallowed.
“Your father knew Matteo was selling information.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“Then why did he protect him?”
“Because Matteo had something.”
“What?”
My mother looked at me.
“Your father's ledger.”
I stared.
“What?”
She nodded.
“The ledger wasn't a book.”
Dominic went still.
“What was it?”
My mother whispered:
“A person.”
Silence.
I didn't understand.
“What person?”
She looked at Dominic.
“Your father's greatest secret.”
Dominic's face hardened.
“Who?”
My mother looked at me.
“You.”
The warehouse seemed to disappear.
I stared at her.
“No.”
“Avery—”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“What does that mean?”
“Your father didn't hide the ledger.”
She closed her eyes.
“He hid the information inside you.”
I couldn't breathe.
Dominic looked confused.
“How?”
My mother continued.
“When you were seventeen, your father took you to the Black Room.”
I nodded slowly.
“The memory you couldn't remember.”
She looked at me.
“He didn't make you forget.”
“He erased it.”
My heart pounded.
“Why?”
“Because someone was trying to force you to reveal what you knew.”
“What did I know?”
“Everything.”
I stared at her.
“That isn't possible.”
“It is.”
My mother looked toward Dominic.
“Your father had discovered a network that extended far beyond Chicago.”
“Who?”
“Politicians.”
“That's not enough.”
“Judges.”
“Who?”
“Police.”
“Names.”
My mother shook her head.
“I don't remember all of them.”
Dominic's voice hardened.
“Linda.”
She looked at him.
“You know exactly what I'm asking.”
She whispered:
“Your father recorded everything.”
“Where?”
“The vault.”
“We know about the vault.”
“No.”
My mother shook her head.
“You don't.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“There are two vaults.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
My mother nodded.
“One belongs to the Moretti family.”
“The other?”
“Your father built it.”
“Where?”
She looked toward the river.
“Under the factory.”
My blood went cold.
“The factory where he supposedly died?”
“Yes.”
Dominic's expression changed.
“So the accident report was a cover.”
“Yes.”
“Then what happened that night?”
My mother closed her eyes.
“I followed him.”
“Why?”
“He called me.”
“What did he say?”
“He said he had found the traitor.”
“Who?”
“He wouldn't tell me over the phone.”
She began crying.
“When I arrived, your father was already bleeding.”
I stepped closer.
“What happened?”
“He told me to take you and disappear.”
“And you did.”
“Yes.”
“Then who killed him?”
She looked at Dominic.
“Your father arrived.”
Dominic froze.
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“He was there?”
“Yes.”
“What happened?”
My mother looked at him with tears in her eyes.
“He and your father argued.”
“About what?”
“The ledger.”
Dominic's jaw tightened.
“And then?”
“Matteo arrived.”
The room became silent.
“And Richard Whitmore.”
I stared.
“All three?”
My mother nodded.
“Your father tried to run.”
“Why?”
“Because he realized the truth.”
“What truth?”
My mother whispered:
“Matteo and Richard were working together.”
Dominic's face became cold.
“My father?”
“He wasn't.”
“Then why was he there?”
My mother looked at me.
“Because he came to save your father.”
Dominic took a breath.
“What happened?”
“Gunshots.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
My mother began shaking.
“Your father fell.”
“Which one?”
“My husband.”
I couldn't breathe.
“What happened to Dominic's father?”
My mother stared at Dominic.
“He was shot too.”
Dominic froze.
“My father was shot?”
“Yes.”
“Then how did he die days later?”
“He didn't.”
Silence.
Dominic stared at her.
“What?”
My mother whispered:
“Your father didn't die three days later.”
I felt the air leave the room.
“He died that night.”
Dominic took one step backward.
“Then who died in his place?”
My mother looked toward the doorway.
Before she could answer, a voice came from the darkness.
“That's a question I've been waiting eight years to hear.”
We turned.
A man stepped into the light.
Gray hair.
Dark coat.
Calm eyes.
My blood ran cold.
I had seen his photograph.
I had heard his name.
I had believed he was dead.
Richard Whitmore.
Vanessa's father.
Alive.
He smiled.
“Hello, Avery.”
Dominic raised his weapon.
Richard laughed softly.
“Put it down, Dominic.”
“You're dead.”
“I was.”
“Who killed you?”
Richard looked at my mother.
“She did.”
My mother began crying.
Richard continued.
“Linda Carter shot me eight years ago.”
I stared at my mother.
“Mom?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
Richard smiled.
“She remembers differently.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“What do you want?”
Richard looked directly at me.
“The key.”
I tightened my grip.
“What key?”
“The one your father gave you.”
“I don't have it.”
Richard smiled.
“You're lying.”
Dominic stepped between us.
“You're not touching her.”
Richard's eyes narrowed.
“You still don't understand, Dominic.”
“What?”
“Your father wasn't protecting Avery.”
He pointed at me.
“He was protecting the person inside her.”
My blood turned cold.
“What does that mean?”
Richard smiled.
Then said the words that shattered everything.
“Your father didn't erase your memory, Avery.”
He paused.
“He put someone else's memory inside you.”
The lights suddenly went out.
Gunshots exploded through the warehouse.
Dominic grabbed me.
My mother screamed.
And somewhere in the darkness, Richard Whitmore laughed.
When the emergency lights came back on thirty seconds later, he was gone.
So was my mother.
Only one thing remained on the floor.
A small cassette tape.
Dominic picked it up.
There was a label written in my father's handwriting.
FOR AVERY — WHEN SHE REMEMBERS WHO SHE REALLY IS.
I looked at Dominic.
He looked at me.
Neither of us spoke.
Because for the first time, I understood the truth.
The mystery wasn't simply about who killed my father.
It wasn't even about the ledger.
Someone had spent eight years hiding a secret inside my own mind.
May you like
And now everyone who knew the truth was willing to kill to keep me from remembering it.
Including, perhaps, my own mother.
