Chapter 7 - THE GODMOTHER
Evelyn Sloane came in through a lawyer.
Not a back door.
Not a Moretti car.
A lawyer.
That mattered.
She was forty-two, with dark blond hair, a black wool coat, and the kind of face that looked calm because it had practiced.
I knew her from a photograph Dana showed us.
Evelyn holding baby Matteo at his baptism.
Vincent beside her.
A woman named Sofia on the other side.
Sofia Moretti.
Matteo’s mother.
Dead before her son could remember her.
Evelyn was Sofia’s best friend.
Matteo’s godmother.
And according to Jonah Price, Shepherd.
Dana did not let me sit in the interview.
Good.
She did let Celia receive a factual summary later because Evelyn’s conduct touched the device found in our house.
I listened.
Of course.
Evelyn did not deny the codename.
That surprised everyone.
“Shepherd was mine,” Dana said.
I stared.
“She admitted it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Jonah had records.”
Good.
“What is Shepherd?”
“A project name.”
“For tracking people.”
“For what she called protective intelligence.”
I groaned.
Another adult phrase for surveillance.
Dana nodded.
“Yes.”
“Who did she track?”
“Vincent.”
My eyes widened.
“Why?”
“Sofia.”
That made no sense.
Dana explained.
Six months before Sofia died, she had given Evelyn a sealed letter and legal documents.
Not because she expected to die.
Because she was planning.
Planning to leave Vincent?
No.
Planning to make him choose.
Sofia had become terrified that Matteo—then only a possibility, not yet born—would grow up inside the Moretti criminal structure.
She wanted Vincent to move legitimate businesses away from crews, private enforcers, and family surveillance.
She had tried asking.
Vincent changed some things.
Not enough.
Then Sofia died in an ordinary car accident.
No plot.
No device.
No Atlantic.
Weather.
A drunk driver who survived and went to prison.
Sometimes tragedy did not need a mastermind.
Important.
After Sofia’s death, Evelyn opened the letter.
It said:
If I am gone and Vincent turns grief into control, do not let Matteo become another Moretti boy raised to think fear is love.
Dana did not show me the full letter.
Not mine.
Good.
Evelyn decided she had a duty.
Bad.
“What did she do?” I asked.
“She hired Adrian Cole.”
I stared.
“After he was dead?”
“She knew he wasn’t.”
There.
Another person.
“How?”
“Adrian contacted her through an intermediary.”
“When?”
“Four months after his reported death.”
“What did he offer?”
“Access to old Moretti surveillance archives.”
“And she paid.”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
Dana looked tired.
“Enough.”
Adult answer.
I raised one eyebrow.
“Two million initially. More later.”
My mouth opened.
Celia muttered:
“Jesus.”
Dana continued.
“Evelyn wanted information on whether Vincent had restarted surveillance around Matteo, around Sofia’s family, around internal rivals.”
“Had he?”
“Some.”
I looked at Vincent’s number on Celia’s phone.
Not clean.
“What kind?”
“Vehicle tracking on two men in his organization. financial monitoring of a cousin. security checks around Sofia’s brother.”
“Illegal?”
“Some potentially.”
Of course.
“So Evelyn watched Vincent watching people.”
“Yes.”
“That’s stupid.”
“Yes.”
“Then?”
“She expanded.”
There.
Always.
Adrian sold fear.
Evelyn bought certainty.
She asked for a device in Vincent’s office.
Then one in a family vehicle.
Then one near a private meeting room.
She told herself it was temporary.
All adults love that lie.
“Did she order the device on Matteo?”
Dana paused.
“No evidence she ordered a device placed on his body or blanket.”
“Did she order anything near him?”
“Yes.”
My stomach tightened.
“A tracker in the diaper bag.”
Celia closed her eyes.
Godmother.
Diaper bag.
“Why?”
“To know if Vincent moved Matteo to a Moretti property without telling her.”
I stared.
“Why would that be her business?”
“It wasn’t.”
Good.
Dana continued.
“Evelyn had been named in Sofia’s estate plan as emergency guardian if Vincent died or became legally unable to parent. She appears to have turned that responsibility into a belief she was entitled to monitor.”
There.
Protection as ownership.
Every family in this story had the same disease.
“Did she put it in?”
“She says Adrian’s contractor did.”
“Who?”
“Unknown.”
“Blanket?”
“She says no.”
“Do you believe her?”
Dana looked at me.
“We verify.”
Good.
“What about our kitchen?”
“Evelyn denies ordering anything involving your mother or your family.”
“Then Adrian did it himself?”
“Possibly.”
“Why?”
“Pressure Elena after she started tracing the network.”
I thought of the ledger.
WARD RESIDENCE - PRESSURE LEVERAGE.
Maybe not Shepherd instruction.
Adrian protecting himself.
Dana said:
“Evelyn admits she told Adrian Elena Ward was asking questions.”
My body went cold.
“She gave him Mom.”
“Yes.”
“On purpose?”
“She says she asked him to explain old Atlantic records.”
I laughed bitterly.
“Adult excuse.”
Celia looked at me.
“Accurate.”
Dana continued.
“Evelyn claims she did not know Adrian would surveil Elena.”
“But she hired a dead surveillance man to secretly watch a mafia boss.”
“Yes.”
“And expected rules.”
Dana almost smiled.
“That is one problem.”
I stood.
Anger made my hands shake.
“Can I talk to her?”
“No.”
Fast.
Good.
“Why?”
“Because she is part of an active investigation and you are a child connected to a potential victim.”
Fine.
“Can she see Matteo?”
“No.”
Vincent had already suspended all access.
No godmother visits.
No calls through staff.
No private contact.
Not revenge.
Safety.
Good.
Then Vincent called.
Celia handed me the phone only after I nodded.
His voice was rough.
“You know.”
“Yes.”
“Sofia’s letter.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Then:
“She did not trust me.”
I did not know what to say.
So I used Mom’s rule.
“What do you know?”
Vincent almost laughed.
“That Evelyn hired Adrian.”
“Yes.”
“That she monitored me.”
“Yes.”
“That she used Matteo’s diaper bag.”
“Yes.”
His voice broke slightly.
“And Sofia was afraid I would raise him like my father raised me.”
That was different.
Not evidence question.
Human.
I thought of Mom sending us away without enough truth.
“She might have been afraid and still loved you.”
Vincent went quiet.
“Ten.”
“What?”
“You are ten.”
“Yes.”
“You should not say things like that.”
“Why?”
“Because it sounds like a therapist.”
Everyone hated therapists apparently.
Then Vincent said:
“I want to hate Evelyn.”
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to hurt her?”
“No.”
Fast.
Good.
“Why?”
“Because hating her and proving crimes are different.”
Mom would approve.
I did not say that.
Then:
“Matteo?”
“Fine.”
“Still bad sleep?”
“Better.”
“Wrong rabbit?”
“He has rejected six.”
I laughed.
Maya looked up.
“Baby?”
I put her on speaker.
“Matteo doesn’t like his new rabbit.”
Maya hugged hers.
“No.”
Vincent said:
“Apparently yours is superior.”
Maya nodded.
“Mine.”
Case closed.
Then Dana came back into the room.
Her face changed.
“Leah, I need the phone.”
I handed it.
She spoke directly to Vincent.
“Evelyn gave us Adrian’s last secure contact method.”
“What?”
“A physical dead drop.”
“Where?”
“Chicago.”
My heart kicked.
“Where?”
Dana looked at me.
Not operational details.
Fine.
Then she continued to Vincent:
“Evelyn says Adrian demanded another payment two days after Elena disappeared.”
Vincent’s voice went cold.
“How much?”
“Ten million.”
“For what?”
“To keep the Moretti archive from going public.”
“Did she pay?”
“No.”
Good.
“What did Adrian send as proof?”
Dana’s face hardened.
“A photograph.”
My stomach dropped.
“Of Mom?”
Dana looked at me.
“Yes.”
Everything stopped.
“Alive?”
“The timestamp appears to be three days ago.”
My knees weakened.
Celia caught my elbow.
“Show me.”
Dana shook her head.
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because it is an image of your mother restrained.”
My body went cold.
Not blood.
Not injury described.
Restrained.
Alive.
I sat.
Celia wrapped a blanket around my shoulders even though I was not cold.
Vincent’s voice came through the phone.
“Dana.”
“Yes.”
“You tell me what you need.”
No threat.
No command.
Good.
“Records. access. no private action.”
“You have it.”
“Evelyn remains under investigation.”
“Yes.”
“Gabriel too.”
“Yes.”
“Carlo too.”
Pause.
“Yes.”
Good.
Nobody cleared because of feelings.
Then Dana said:
“Adrian’s message included a phrase.”
“What?”
“Return the Shepherd’s flock.”
I hated him immediately.
Creepy adult metaphor.
Dana continued:
“He wants Evelyn’s archive copy and Moretti money.”
Vincent said:
“He does not know Evelyn turned herself in.”
“Probably not.”
“And Elena?”
“He may be using her as leverage.”
There.
Mom was alive three days ago.
Held by Adrian.
That was the first evidence strong enough to shape the whole case.
But not enough to send me anywhere.
Good.
Dana went to work.
I stayed.
I hated staying.
That was also the point.
That night, I could not sleep.
Celia sat in the chair beside the window.
Maya breathed softly.
I whispered:
“Mom went after Jonah.”
“Yes.”
“She knew Adrian was dangerous.”
“Yes.”
“She still went.”
“Yes.”
“I’m mad.”
“You can be.”
“She sent us away, then did the dangerous part.”
“Yes.”
“She says I’m a child, but she made me carry the ledger.”
Celia looked at me.
“She was scared.”
“That doesn’t fix it.”
“No.”
Good.
We sat.
Then Celia said:
“Your mother is allowed to be brave and wrong at the same time.”
I stared.
That sounded like something I would need later.
Maybe adults too.
The next morning, Dana returned with news.
The photograph contained a reflection in a metal cabinet.
Not enough to identify a face.
Enough to identify a room feature.
An old Saint Brigid medical cabinet model.
Same manufacturer.
Same distinctive label pattern.
Jonah’s location?
Maybe.
Agents had already searched the main Saint Brigid annex.
But the property included a second building.
A closed rehabilitation wing.
Not on the old Atlantic floor plan Carlo provided.
Dana’s team was obtaining entry authority.
I stood.
Then sat myself back down.
Red train.
Stay.
Celia noticed.
She did not praise me.
Good.
At 11:06 a.m., Dana’s phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Her eyes closed.
My heart stopped.
“Dana.”
She looked at me.
“They found her.”
I could not breathe.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
The room broke.
Celia cried.
I cried.
Maya cried because we cried.
Dana kept speaking.
“Elena is alive. conscious. being transported to a hospital.”
“Adrian?”
“Not there.”
Of course.
“Did he escape?”
“We don’t know.”
Mom’s test.
May you like
Unknown.
I had never loved that word more.
