Chapter 6 - A SISTER WITHOUT A GRAVE
By the time Dante reached the school, the stranger had disappeared.
Caroline stood outside the entrance with one arm around Sophie. Biscuit sat at her feet, trembling with the effort of remaining still. The dog had barked until school staff came outside, and the stranger had retreated without approaching the child.
“He said he was from Daddy's old office,” Sophie told Evelyn as soon as she arrived. “He wanted to give me something. Biscuit didn't like him.”
“What did he look like?” Evelyn asked.
“A gray hat. And shoes with shiny buckles.”
“Did he touch you?”
“No. Aunt Carrie said I should go inside.”
“Good. You did exactly the right thing.”
Sophie looked between the adults. “Can we stop having grown-up secrets? They make everybody sad.”
Evelyn crouched before her. “Some people are asking questions about the work Daddy did. We want to make sure nobody bothers you while we find answers. You can ask me questions, and I will tell you what I know in words that make sense.”
“Did Daddy do something bad?”
“No, sweetheart. He tried to help people. Sometimes grown-ups are angry when somebody tells the truth.”
Sophie studied her face, then leaned forward for a hug.
Biscuit pressed his nose against Sophie's knee. She bent to scratch his ears, and for a moment the animal was simply a dog who wanted to be close to his person. Evelyn wished she could protect that uncomplicated comfort from every adult who regarded him as a clue.
The school counselor had suggested giving Sophie a simple plan she could practice without making danger the center of her day. Together they agreed on three rules: stay near a trusted adult, never leave school with someone unexpected, and tell a teacher about anything that felt wrong. They rehearsed those steps once, then put the paper away. Afterward Sophie asked whether she could still go to her friend's birthday party on Saturday.
“Yes,” Evelyn said. “We'll make sure the grown-ups know the plan. You still get to have cake.”
“Chocolate cake?”
“If that's what they serve.”
“And Biscuit can come if they have a yard?”
“We'll ask. We don't get to invite him to somebody else's party.”
Sophie accepted that answer with a small smile. The adults had been discussing crimes, missing records, and surveillance footage for days. To Sophie, the most urgent question was whether she would miss a birthday party because somebody she hadn't met had behaved badly.
Dante kept his distance. For a man used to being addressed as boss, discovering how little his presence could help a frightened child was an uncomfortable kind of education. He wanted to post armed guards around the school. Instead, Sarah and Caroline worked with its administrator to document the incident, review camera footage, and notify the police. Evelyn arranged for Sophie to attend a familiar after-school program with her aunt until the immediate danger passed.
No armored convoy. No strangers beside the playground. No transformation of a child's ordinary life into a fortress because Dante felt guilty.
That afternoon, Nina located Carlo Voss through a retired maritime lawyer who had once represented him. Carlo agreed to speak with Sarah and a state investigator at a neutral office. He refused to give testimony to Dante directly.
“He says he doesn't trust your surname,” Nina explained.
“He's right not to.”
She glanced at Dante. “Are you beginning to enjoy being corrected?”
“No.”
“Good. I was worried.”
A second development came through Rosa. Gianna had heard the news about the storage unit and agreed to speak by telephone, but only with Sarah and Dante present. She chose the time. She chose the line. She made it clear that one conversation would not heal eight years of damage.
Dante arrived at the legal clinic early. He walked past the children's mural, past the broken printer, into a small office where Sarah had set a speakerphone on the table.
At precisely four o'clock, it rang.
Sarah answered and gave her name.
A woman replied, “Is Dante there?”
His sister's voice was rougher than he remembered, the vowels slower, the words touched by a faint hesitation. It was still her voice.
“Gianna,” he said.
There was a long pause.
“Hello, big brother.”
He covered his mouth with his hand.
He had imagined that moment many times during the past forty-eight hours. In every version, he demanded explanations. In reality, all he could do was cry without making a sound.
“I'm sorry,” he finally whispered.
“For what?”
“For not finding you. For signing the papers. For telling you to stop arguing with Father. For believing everything afterward.”
Gianna's breath caught. “You didn't know I survived.”
“No. But you should have been able to trust me.”
“You would have wanted to fix it with money and people. That's what the family taught us.”
“Yes.”
“I needed you to understand that I wasn't a problem to be managed. I was a person who had seen something terrible.”
“I understand now.”
“You're beginning to.”
The correction hurt. He accepted it.
Sarah allowed the silence to settle before asking whether Gianna was prepared to make a statement about the fire.
“I already have,” Gianna replied. “With a state investigator. My attorney is arranging secure access to the original records I kept.”
Dante leaned closer. “Are you safe?”
“Safer than I was last week. Not safe enough to share where I'm staying.”
“Vittorio has photographs of you. He used one to frighten Mother.”
“I know. He found the pharmacy where I picked up medication. That's why I moved again.”
“Why did you send me the suitcase?”
“I didn't put it in your luggage. I agreed the documents could be delivered after Daniel's archive was located. But someone else decided how. Rosa told me a dog was involved, and then a little girl. That wasn't part of my plan.”
Dante felt a chill. The small strip of scented leather had been designed for Biscuit, and Biscuit had been returned to Sophie shortly before the suitcase was altered. Either somebody had planned the encounter more carefully than Rosa knew, or the evidence had drawn them together by chance that now seemed almost impossible.
“Who coordinated the delivery?” Sarah asked.
“A man claiming to be Carlo's representative. He had the right receipts, the right password, and a key he shouldn't have had. I never met him. I realize now I shouldn't have trusted that.”
“Can you remember the password?”
“It was something Daniel had chosen. The day Sophie first laughed.”
Sarah wrote it down and looked at Dante. “That connects the courier to Daniel's archive. It doesn't identify him.”
Gianna was quiet for a moment. “Dante, I need you to hear something else. Our father helped change the official report.”
“I know.”
“He told me the wrong people would go to prison if the truth got out. He said the compensation fund would make things right. He was lying to himself, and then he lied to everyone else.”
“Did he cause the fire?”
“I don't know. I do know Vittorio ordered security to keep tenants from reentering the building during the emergency. He was concerned that people might take documents or equipment. When the fire spread, those orders became a death sentence for some who were still inside.”
Dante closed his eyes.
“I signed the property transfer,” he said. “I thought the building was empty.”
“Then you should tell the investigators that. And you should give them every record you have, even if it costs you the company.”
“I will.”
“Don't promise because you want me to forgive you. Do it because it's right.”
The call ended only after they discussed the practical arrangements for Gianna's testimony. She did not say she loved him. She did not say she was coming home. Dante had expected both in some secret part of himself and was ashamed of expecting them.
Sarah handed him a box of tissues.
“She called,” she said. “That's more than either of you had yesterday.”
He nodded.
In the corridor, Marco waited with an unreadable expression. He had been Dante's closest guard for ten years, a man who had once carried Dante from the wreckage of an ambush. Dante had trusted him with schedules, home security, and private correspondence.
“Vittorio wants you at the family office,” Marco said. “He says there are questions about unauthorized data access.”
“Tell him my lawyers will contact him.”
Marco hesitated. “Boss, the longer we wait, the uglier this becomes.”
“What are you afraid of, Marco?”
“Of losing the life we built.”
Dante looked at him carefully. “Whose life?”
Marco opened his mouth, then shut it.
Nina arrived with information from the clinic's computer specialist. Access logs showed someone had opened Dante's travel schedule and copied the hotel's luggage-handling instructions using Marco's credentials.
Marco stared at the screen.
“I didn't do that,” he said.
“When did you last share your badge?” Nina asked.
“Never.”
“Then we'll need to audit who had access to it. I'm not accusing you, Marco. I'm telling you your account was used.”
His face slowly changed. “Pietro asked me to log into the family office terminal last Friday. He said the credentials on his account had expired. I typed the password while he stood beside me.”
“Could he have seen it?”
“I didn't think so.”
Dante felt the old impulse to explode. Instead he took one breath, then another.
“We'll establish what happened,” he said. “Until then, you're off access to private schedules. You're not fired, and you're not going to Vittorio alone.”
Marco's eyes filled with humiliation. “Understood.”
A knock came at the door. Sarah's assistant carried a message from the state investigator who had interviewed Carlo Voss.
Carlo had signed a sworn statement.
According to the statement, the order to alter the fire report had come from Vittorio Moretti. Pietro had delivered the payment authorizations, and a senior investigator named Paul Renner had arranged for the records to be refiled.
Carlo had also identified the driver of the vehicle that struck Daniel Miller.
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The driver was not a stranger.
He was Pietro Fabbri's younger brother.
