Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO DIED TWICE
Nobody moved.
Renato Valente looked at Sophie as though he had merely commented on the weather.
Yesterday.
Her mother.
A woman Sophie had buried.
Enzo spoke first.
“Explain.”
Renato looked at him.
“You called me here to interrogate me?”
“I didn’t call you.”
“No.”
“Then how did you find us?”
Renato smiled faintly.
“Lorenzo.”
The full name.
Family warning.
Enzo did not soften.
“How?”
“Your car.”
Sophie looked at Enzo.
He looked annoyed.
“Not tracked.”
Renato raised an eyebrow.
“You still use family fleet transponders.”
Rocco swore softly.
Architecture again.
Old systems.
Sophie said:
“My mother.”
Renato turned.
“Evelyn Castellan is alive.”
“Where?”
“I won’t tell you.”
Enzo stepped forward.
Sophie raised her hand.
He stopped.
Good.
“Why not?”
Renato answered:
“Because she asked me not to.”
Sophie laughed.
Every adult in her life had become addicted to that excuse.
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“After my father died.”
“Yes.”
“You knew she was alive before?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Seven years.”
Her chest tightened.
Since her supposed funeral.
“You attended her funeral.”
Renato nodded.
“So did Michael.”
“My father knew.”
“Yes.”
Sophie stared.
“Why?”
Renato looked tired.
“Because Evelyn had discovered Orpheus.”
There.
He admitted the name.
Enzo said:
“You know it.”
“Of course.”
“Lucia wrote that you knew.”
His uncle’s face changed.
“You found Lucia’s notes.”
“Yes.”
Renato looked at Sophie.
“Then Arthur failed.”
“Arthur isn’t missing.”
“What?”
For the first time, surprise seemed real.
Sophie said:
“He left.”
Renato absorbed it.
Then:
“Good.”
“Why would you care?”
“Because I was told he had been taken.”
“By who?”
“Martin Heller.”
Enzo’s jaw tightened.
Sophie watched both men.
Same family face.
Different kinds of danger.
“Start at the beginning,” Enzo said.
Renato walked to a chair.
“May I?”
Sophie almost laughed at the sudden manners.
“Sit.”
He did.
“Orpheus began under Vittorio.”
Enzo’s father.
“Not mine?”
“Your father.”
Renato nodded.
“Twenty years ago.”
“What was it?”
“A courier system.”
“For drugs?”
“No.”
“Weapons?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“Information.”
He looked at Sophie.
“Judges. police. union officials. politicians. business owners. Some corrupt. Some threatened. Some cooperative.”
“How did music fit?”
“Cultural foundation held private salons. Musicians traveled. Sheet music moved without inspection. Scores carried codes.”
Sophie felt ill.
Her world.
Music.
Turned into delivery system.
“Did my father know when I was a scholarship student?”
“No.”
“Lucia?”
“Eventually.”
“Arthur?”
“He recruited musicians without telling them purpose.”
“So he knew.”
“Parts.”
Enzo said:
“What did Orpheus become?”
Renato looked down.
“Blackmail.”
“Under who?”
Silence.
“Renato.”
“Martin Heller.”
Too easy.
“Only him?”
“No.”
“Who else?”
“My brother.”
Vittorio Valente.
Enzo’s father.
Dead five years.
Enzo’s face hardened.
“Lucia discovered?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Four years ago.”
“She confronted you.”
“Yes.”
“You told me she was using drugs.”
Renato looked ashamed.
“I lied.”
Enzo crossed the room so fast Rocco moved.
Sophie stood.
“Enzo.”
He stopped inches from his uncle.
“You let me believe she destroyed herself.”
“I was trying to keep you from going after Vittorio.”
“My father?”
“Yes.”
“He killed her?”
“No.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I was with him when the fire started.”
“Where?”
“Family dinner.”
“You left.”
Renato looked at Sophie.
“She heard my name.”
“Yes.”
“I went to the courthouse.”
Enzo’s hand clenched.
“After the fire.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Lucia called.”
Sophie remembered.
Renato.
Maybe not a warning.
Maybe a request.
“What did she say?” Sophie asked.
Renato’s face broke.
“Help.”
Silence.
“I drove there.”
“Alone?”
“Yes.”
“Did you see her?”
“Yes.”
Sophie stopped breathing.
“When?”
“Outside.”
“What?”
“She got out.”
Sophie stared.
“I saw her go back.”
“Later.”
Renato nodded.
“She came out first with you.”
“No.”
“You were in an ambulance by then.”
Sophie’s memory ended at the window.
Maybe.
“Lucia came out through the west stair.”
“She was alive.”
“Yes.”
“Then why go back?”
Renato closed his eyes.
“She said Michael had the third movement.”
“The score.”
“Yes.”
“I tried to stop her.”
“Did you?”
“No.”
Enzo whispered:
“You let her go back.”
“I could not physically stop her without hurting her.”
“You should have.”
Renato looked at him.
“I know.”
Fire crews arrived.
Then explosion.
Lucia trapped.
“What happened after?” Sophie asked.
“They pulled her out alive.”
Enzo stopped.
“What?”
Renato looked at his nephew.
“She survived the fire.”
The room changed.
Enzo’s face went blank.
“Three days.”
“Yes.”
“She died three days later.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Private clinic.”
“Why wasn’t I there?”
“Your father kept you away.”
“Why?”
“Lucia was conscious.”
Enzo looked sick.
“What did she say?”
“She accused Vittorio.”
There.
“Of Orpheus?”
“Yes.”
“Of the fire?”
“No.”
“Then?”
“She said he had allowed Heller to use Orpheus for witness control.”
“What did Father do?”
Renato’s eyes filled.
“He ordered her sedated.”
Sophie’s skin went cold.
Enzo stepped back.
“He drugged my sister.”
“Yes.”
“Did that kill her?”
Renato did not answer.
“Did it?”
“I don’t know.”
Wrong.
Enzo grabbed him by the jacket.
Rocco moved.
Sophie did too.
“Enzo.”
He looked at her.
“Not for him.”
She said.
“For you.”
His grip loosened.
Renato sat again.
Sophie asked:
“Cause of death?”
“Respiratory failure.”
“From burns?”
“Officially.”
“And unofficially?”
“Medication contributed.”
Enzo turned away.
His shoulders rigid.
The Butcher of Brooklyn.
A man feared across boroughs.
Standing helpless before a dead sister’s medical history.
Sophie understood that kind of powerlessness.
She hated understanding him.
“My mother,” she said.
Renato looked back.
“Evelyn was not sick.”
“Then the cancer?”
“Fabricated.”
“By who?”
“Michael.”
“My father faked my mother’s death.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She had been a clerk in Heller’s federal task force.”
Sophie stared.
Her mother, who made soup and complained about piano scales, had worked around organized-crime cases.
“She found Orpheus files being misused.”
“Then?”
“Heller threatened you.”
Sophie’s throat closed.
Me.
At nineteen.
“She agreed to disappear.”
“Witness protection?”
“Unofficial first. Formal later.”
“Why not take me?”
“Michael believed Heller would know if both of you vanished.”
She laughed through tears.
“So they left me as proof.”
Renato flinched.
“Essentially.”
“That is monstrous.”
“Yes.”
Good.
No defense.
Enzo turned back.
“You saw Evelyn yesterday.”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“I won’t say without permission.”
Sophie stared.
“Call her.”
Renato looked surprised.
“Now.”
He hesitated.
“There are protocols.”
“Call.”
He took out his phone.
Encrypted app.
One number.
He called.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
His face changed.
“That’s unusual.”
Enzo immediately became alert.
“When was last contact?”
“Yesterday afternoon.”
“What did she say?”
“That Arthur Bell had gone dark.”
“What else?”
“She was moving.”
“Where?”
“New location.”
“Who arranged it?”
Renato paused.
“Federal Marshal Claire Heller.”
Sophie stared.
“Heller?”
“Martin’s daughter.”
Rocco swore.
Enzo laughed once.
“Of course.”
“Is she clean?”
Renato said:
“I believed so.”
“Past tense.”
“She isn’t answering either.”
A trap.
Or compromise.
Sophie’s phone buzzed.
Unknown.
A video.
Her mother.
Older.
Very much alive.
Sitting in a chair.
Not visibly hurt.
Holding a card.
SOPHIA — DO NOT COME.
Sophie stopped breathing.
The camera shifted.
A man stepped into frame.
Sixties.
Gray hair.
Polite smile.
Martin Heller.
He looked directly into the lens.
“Miss Castellan.”
Enzo moved closer.
Heller continued:
“You played beautifully tonight.”
They had been watched live.
“Renato has spent seven years telling himself he protected your mother.”
Renato went pale.
“He did not.”
Heller smiled.
“He delivered her to my daughter.”
The video cut.
Then a location pin.
Old Valente Cultural Foundation theater in Manhattan.
Closed two years for renovation.
Message:
BRING BOTH MOVEMENTS.
COME WITH LORENZO.
NO POLICE.
MIDNIGHT TOMORROW.
Sophie stared.
Enzo said:
“No.”
She looked at him.
“You don’t decide.”
He caught himself.
“No.”
He corrected.
“I think going exactly as ordered is a bad idea.”
Better.
Renato whispered:
“Claire betrayed us.”
Sophie looked at him.
“Or her father has leverage.”
Nobody knew.
Rocco checked his phone.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Arthur Bell just contacted the security desk.”
Sophie’s head snapped up.
“Where?”
“He’s downstairs.”
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
Rocco’s face changed.
“He has a woman with him.”
Sophie’s heart stopped.
“Who?”
“Claire Heller.”
Renato stood.
Impossible.
If Claire was downstairs, who moved Evelyn?
The doors opened.
Arthur Bell entered first.
Old pianist.
Her professor.
The man who had vanished from the bench.
Behind him walked a woman in a federal marshal’s coat.
Claire Heller.
She looked directly at Sophie.
“My father has your mother.”
Sophie could barely breathe.
Claire continued:
“And if we do exactly what he says, he will kill her anyway.”
Before they left the hotel, Sophie stopped Renato at the door.
“One more question.”
He turned.
“Did my mother ever ask about me?”
His face changed.
“Every time.”
Sophie hated how much that hurt.
“What did you tell her?”
“That you were alive.”
“Only that?”
“At first.”
“And later?”
“That you finished school. That you disappeared after Michael died. That I could not locate you without risking attention.”
“You could have.”
“Yes.”
He did not defend himself.
She looked at the man her father had apparently trusted just enough to fear.
“You all keep calling silence protection.”
Renato nodded.
“I know.”
“No. I don’t think you do.”
She stepped closer.
“Protection is giving someone enough truth to make a choice. What all of you did was decide for us.”
Renato lowered his eyes.
“That is fair.”
Enzo watched from across the room.
Sophie saw the sentence land on him too.
May you like
Good.
If any of this was going to end differently, somebody had to learn the difference before the next secret became another inheritance.
