Chapter 4 - The Company Owned by a Dead Man
By midnight, Dominic had three laptops open on the dining table and enough coffee in his bloodstream to make sleep impossible.
Elena sat across from him in one of his old sweaters because her clothes were still damp from the snow.
Lily slept in the smaller bedroom with Mr. Bear tucked under one arm.
The house was quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional passing car.
On the screen was the company Nathan Cross had found.
Rossi Protective Services LLC.
Incorporated eight years ago.
Two years after Matteo Rossi died.
According to state records, Matteo was listed as the original organizer.
A dead man had created a security company.
That company had then received $1.87 million from Dominic’s housing foundation.
Elena read the page again.
“This is impossible.”
“Yes.”
“My father never owned a security company.”
“I know.”
“He hated security companies.”
“I know.”
“He said half of them were people wearing windbreakers so they could charge you to stand near a door.”
Dominic almost smiled.
“That sounds like Matteo.”
Elena looked up.
“You remember every stupid thing he said, but you didn’t know what was happening to his daughter.”
The smile disappeared.
“Apparently.”
She expected a defense.
Dominic did not give one.
That disarmed her more than an argument would have.
He turned the laptop.
“Look at the payment dates.”
She did.
Most were monthly.
Some were larger.
“Why are these different?”
“Emergency services. Supposedly.”
“What emergencies?”
“That’s what Cross is finding out.”
Elena traced one line with her finger.
“This date.”
“What about it?”
“Tomas died two days later.”
Dominic leaned closer.
The payment was $240,000.
Authorization code: VC-17.
Vincent Cole.
Elena’s face went pale.
“Dominic.”
“I see it.”
“He signed it.”
“He authorized it.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No. It isn’t.”
She stared at him.
“You’re still protecting him.”
“I’m protecting the difference between suspicion and proof.”
“He threatened me.”
“Proof.”
“He lied to you.”
“Proof.”
“He hired Tomas.”
“Suspicious.”
“He paid a fake company in my dead father’s name two days before my husband was murdered.”
Dominic looked at her.
“Very suspicious.”
Elena shoved back from the table.
“You are unbelievable.”
“No. I’m alive.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I learned a long time ago that people die when powerful men decide suspicion is proof.”
Elena’s anger stalled.
Dominic continued.
“I have made that mistake.”
She studied him.
“How many times?”
He did not answer.
Enough.
The silence said enough.
Elena looked away.
“I don’t want to know.”
“No. You don’t.”
For several minutes they returned to the documents.
Cross had attached invoices.
Some looked legitimate at first glance.
Security staffing.
Emergency relocation.
Resident transport.
Lock replacement.
But the addresses kept repeating.
Buildings Dominic recognized as chronically underfunded.
Buildings like Elena’s.
“Wait,” she said.
“What?”
“This invoice says guards were posted at our building for ninety days.”
Dominic read it.
Four guards.
Twelve-hour shifts.
Nearly $68,000.
“When?”
“Last summer.”
Elena laughed bitterly.
“There were no guards.”
“You’re sure?”
“I lived there.”
“Maybe nights?”
“There weren’t any.”
Dominic leaned back.
So money had been billed for protection that never existed.
At properties full of people least likely to know how to challenge an invoice.
Theft hidden inside charity.
That offended him differently than ordinary theft.
Ordinary theft was greed.
This was contempt.
Someone had decided poor people were not only easy to steal from but useful to hide behind.
His name had made it possible.
His signature sat at the top of the foundation.
His annual speeches talked about dignity.
His photographs hung in renovated lobbies.
And somewhere underneath the polished brochures, Elena had been choosing between medicine and soup.
Dominic closed the laptop.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Thinking.”
“That usually look like quitting?”
“No. It looks like not staring at numbers while I decide who gets removed from my life.”
Elena’s expression tightened.
“Removed how?”
Dominic looked at her.
He understood the question.
He also understood why she asked it.
“Legally.”
She held his gaze.
“That word sounded painful for you.”
“It was unfamiliar.”
Against her will, Elena laughed.
It came out softly.
Dominic looked surprised.
So did she.
The laugh vanished almost immediately.
But something had changed.
Not trust.
Not yet.
Maybe the recognition that the man she had turned into a monster in her memory still contained a human sense of irony.
Dominic reopened the laptop.
“Tell me about the ledger.”
Elena’s expression closed.
“No.”
“We are past that.”
“We are nowhere near past that.”
“If Vincent wants it—”
“That’s exactly why I won’t tell you.”
“You think I’ll take it?”
“I think men like you always believe possession is protection.”
Dominic leaned forward.
“You have a six-year-old daughter.”
“Do not use her against me.”
“I’m using reality against you.”
“She is why I hid it.”
“And if Vincent believes you still have it, she is why hiding it may not be enough.”
Elena went still.
Dominic softened his voice.
“I don’t need to know where it is. I need to know what is in it.”
She looked toward the hallway.
Then back.
“Tomas kept handwritten notes.”
“Why handwritten?”
“He stopped trusting the company network.”
“Smart.”
“He copied vendor names, dates, amounts, authorization codes, account numbers.”
“Anything connecting Vincent directly?”
“I don’t know.”
“You never read it?”
“I read parts.”
“Why not all of it?”
Her face changed.
“Because the night Tomas died, he came home for exactly seven minutes.”
Dominic listened.
“He was scared. Tomas was not a scared man. Cautious, yes. Anxious sometimes. But that night…”
She swallowed.
“He kept checking the window. He put the ledger in a plastic bag and told me if he did not come back by midnight, I had to leave with Lily.”
“How old was she?”
“Two.”
“What did you do?”
“I told him he was being dramatic.”
Her voice broke.
“I was angry because he had missed dinner three nights that week. I asked him if numbers were more important than his family.”
Dominic said nothing.
Elena looked down at her hands.
“He kissed Lily. Then he kissed me. And he said, ‘No. That’s why I have to finish this.’”
The house was completely quiet.
“He never came home.”
Dominic stared at the table.
Elena took a breath.
“I burned some of his notes after the break-in.”
“Why?”
“I was terrified.”
“That was probably smart.”
“I almost burned the ledger.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because there was a letter inside.”
“For you?”
“No.”
Dominic looked up.
“For who?”
Elena met his eyes.
“For you.”
For several seconds, he did not speak.
“What did it say?”
“I never opened it.”
Dominic’s face became unreadable.
“You have a letter from Tomas addressed to me and you never opened it?”
“It wasn’t mine.”
“You thought I killed your father.”
“Yes.”
“You thought my organization killed your husband.”
“Yes.”
“And you respected the privacy of a letter to me?”
Elena’s mouth tightened.
“My father raised me better than your world did.”
Dominic leaned back.
Fair.
Painful.
Fair.
A faint tapping came from the bedroom.
Both of them turned.
Then Lily appeared in the hallway, dragging Mr. Bear by one arm.
“I can’t sleep.”
Elena immediately stood.
“Nightmare?”
Lily shook her head.
“I heard a car.”
Dominic’s attention sharpened.
“What car?”
“Outside.”
A beam of light moved across the front curtains.
Dominic stood so quickly the chair scraped backward.
He shut off the kitchen light.
Elena grabbed Lily.
Another set of headlights passed.
Slowly.
Too slowly.
Dominic stepped into the darkened living room and looked through the narrow gap beside the curtain.
A black SUV rolled past the house.
No plates visible from the angle.
It continued to the end of the street.
Turned.
Came back.
Elena whispered, “Vincent?”
Dominic did not answer.
The SUV stopped three houses down.
Nobody got out.
Dominic reached for his phone.
No signal.
He frowned.
Elena checked hers.
“Mine too.”
The house phone was dead.
Dominic looked toward the back door.
The power flickered.
Then went out.
Lily whimpered.
Elena held her tighter.
Dominic moved toward the kitchen drawer where an old flashlight was kept.
Before he reached it, a hard knock hit the front door.
Three times.
Not frantic.
Not loud.
Controlled.
Dominic froze.
Another three knocks.
A man’s voice came through the wood.
“Mr. Vescari?”
Elena’s face went white.
Dominic said nothing.
The voice continued.
“My name is Nathan Cross.”
Dominic’s eyes narrowed.
Cross was supposed to be downtown.
Dominic had never given him this address.
“Mr. Vescari, open the door.”
Dominic moved closer but did not touch the lock.
“How did you find me?” he called.
Silence.
Then Cross answered.
“You have a much bigger problem than Vincent Cole.”
Dominic looked at Elena.
“What problem?”
Cross’s next words came through the dark house like a blade.
“Matteo Rossi’s company is not the only one owned by a dead man.”
A pause.
May you like
“There are seventeen.”
“And every one of them traces back to you.”
