Chapter 6 - THE MAN BEHIND THE FUNERAL
Father Thomas Keane lived in a stone building that smelled like books, coffee and old radiators.
He was eighty-one, mostly bald, and smaller than Dominic expected.
He also took one look at the photograph of Elena and Julian and locked the front door.
“Where is the child?” he asked.
No greeting.
No confusion.
The child.
Dominic felt Sarah stiffen beside him.
“You knew?” she asked.
Father Keane looked at her closely.
“Sarah.”
Her mouth opened.
“You remember me?”
“I remember everyone who looks terrified while holding a premature baby.”
For one second, Sarah seemed about to cry again.
Instead she said, “Lucy has been taken.”
The old priest’s face hardened.
“By Vincent?”
Dominic stared at him.
“How do you know that name?”
Father Keane gestured toward a small sitting room.
“Because I spent four years hoping I would never hear it again.”
They sat.
Nico remained by the window, watching the road.
Dominic placed Elena’s photograph on the table.
Father Keane touched it with two fingers.
“They were married here,” he said.
Sarah closed her eyes.
Dominic leaned forward.
“Under what names?”
“Their own.”
“Elena Russo and Julian Hale?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Seven months before the crash.”
Dominic felt anger rise all over again, but this time he knew better than to aim it at Elena.
“Why secretly?”
Father Keane gave him a level look.
“You know why.”
“My father.”
“Your father threatened Julian’s medical career.”
Dominic froze.
“What?”
“Carlo Russo came to me personally. He said the marriage would be annulled.”
“He knew?”
“For three days.”
“How?”
“I never learned.”
Dominic looked at Sarah.
She shook her head.
Elena had not told her either.
Father Keane continued.
“Carlo was furious, but he did not kill Julian. Whatever else your father was, that much I believe.”
“You knew him well?”
“I knew men like him well.”
Dominic almost smiled despite himself.
“Where is the marriage record?”
The priest’s face changed.
“I gave the original to Elena.”
“And the church copy?”
“Missing.”
“Missing how?”
“Someone broke into the parish office three days after her crash.”
Nico looked over.
“Three days?”
Father Keane nodded.
“They took one marriage ledger. Nothing else.”
Dominic rubbed a hand over his face.
Vincent had been cleaning the trail while the family planned Elena’s funeral.
“Do you have any proof they were married?” Sarah asked.
Father Keane was quiet for a long moment.
Then he rose.
“Maybe.”
He disappeared into a back room.
Dominic’s phone vibrated.
Vincent again.
TWENTY-NINE MINUTES.
Nico said, “He’s trying to keep us moving.”
“He doesn’t know where we are.”
“Yet.”
Sarah stared at the photo of Lucy Vincent had sent.
“I should have taken her and kept running.”
Dominic looked at her.
“You did run.”
“Not far enough.”
“You kept her alive for almost four years.”
“And today I handed her to your housekeeper.”
“Bernadette is more than my housekeeper.”
“That doesn’t make Lucy less kidnapped.”
“No.”
Sarah’s shoulders shook once.
Dominic lowered his voice.
“You are allowed to be afraid without turning it into a verdict against yourself.”
She looked at him, surprised.
“Did someone teach you that?”
“No.”
“Obviously.”
A laugh escaped her before she could stop it.
It lasted half a second.
But it was there.
Then Father Keane returned carrying a cardboard archive box.
“Catholic institutions,” he said. “We throw nothing away unless a committee approves it.”
Inside were old appointment calendars, donation records, letters and envelopes.
He pulled out a small Polaroid.
Elena and Julian stood in the chapel, facing each other.
Father Keane stood behind them in white vestments.
Elena’s hand rested on Julian’s chest.
His rested over hers.
Both wore the same rings from the St. Agnes photograph.
On the bottom white border, someone had written:
ELENA + JULIAN — JAN 14.
Sarah exhaled.
“Would that hold up?”
Dominic said, “It helps.”
Father Keane reached deeper into the box.
“And this helps more.”
He produced a sealed envelope.
On the front, in Elena’s handwriting:
FOR DOMINIC — ONLY IF LUCY IS FOUND.
Dominic stopped moving.
Sarah stared at him.
“You knew about this?” he asked the priest.
“Of course.”
“Why didn’t you contact me?”
“Because your sister told me not to.”
“I buried her.”
“And I honored her instruction.”
“She was dead.”
Father Keane’s expression sharpened.
“Death does not automatically make a powerful man entitled to a woman’s secrets.”
Dominic sat back.
Apparently every person Elena trusted had rehearsed some version of that sentence.
Maybe he needed to hear it.
Maybe he needed to hear it a hundred times.
He picked up the envelope.
The paper was soft with age.
His name looked exactly as it had on birthday cards and angry notes she used to slide under his bedroom door.
DOMINIC.
He opened it.
Inside was a letter and a photocopy of a notarized trust amendment.
Dominic read the amendment first.
His father’s signature appeared at the bottom.
So did Elena’s.
So did Vincent’s.
Dominic frowned.
“Vincent signed this.”
Father Keane nodded.
“As witness.”
“But Elena said he didn’t know about the amendment.”
Nico came closer.
“Maybe he didn’t know what he signed.”
Dominic read the date.
Eight years earlier.
Before Julian.
Before Lucy.
The amendment stated that Elena’s share of the family trust would pass to any biological or lawfully adopted child she had, with interim voting authority exercised by a trustee named by Elena in a sealed designation.
Dominic turned the page.
The trustee designation was separate.
Elena had named Dominic.
Sarah stared at the document.
“That means what?”
“It means Lucy owns the shares,” Dominic said. “But until she’s an adult, I control the votes.”
Sarah stood abruptly.
“No.”
Dominic looked up.
“No what?”
“No. Absolutely not.”
“Sarah—”
“You just told me the man who kidnapped my daughter wants control of those shares. And now you’re telling me you control them?”
“That is not the same thing.”
“How do I know?”
The room went still.
Nico looked away.
Father Keane did not.
Dominic folded the paper carefully.
“You don’t.”
Sarah blinked.
“You expected me to argue?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“You shouldn’t trust me because a document says my name.”
She stared at him.
“You should watch what I do next.”
Dominic picked up Elena’s letter.
His hands were not as steady as he wanted.
He read.
Dom,
If Lucy has been found, then either I failed to keep her hidden or she finally got old enough to need more truth than fear. I hope it is the second one.
I need you to understand something before you get angry. I did not hide because I believed you wanted me dead. I hid because you love the family like a soldier loves a flag. You defend first and ask what the flag means later.
Vincent knows that about you. He uses it.
Dominic stopped.
The words hurt because they were Elena’s.
And because they were true.
He continued.
Julian found evidence that Vincent was moving Russo money into Halcyon Development through medical supply contracts. I found the rest. Vincent was not just stealing. He was building enough hidden capital to buy loyalty from the board after Dad died.
He needed me legally dead before my child was born.
That sentence made Dominic’s stomach turn.
There was more.
I copied the transaction ledger. Michael hid it somewhere even I don’t know. He said that way nobody could force the location out of me. The rabbit carries the path, but only someone who remembers it before I was grown will understand.
Dominic looked at Mr. Button in his mind.
The path.
Not the evidence.
The rabbit carried the path.
The letter continued.
If you are reading this, trust Sarah Carter. Trust Michael if he is alive. Trust Bernadette even when she makes you furious.
Do not trust the person who organizes my funeral.
Dominic stopped breathing.
Sarah saw his face.
“What?”
He handed her the letter.
She read the last line.
Nico said, “Who organized it?”
Dominic already knew.
His father had been too sick.
Dominic had been barely functional.
Bernadette had handled the house.
But the funeral home, cemetery, death certificates and private burial arrangements had all been coordinated by one person.
Vincent.
Father Keane whispered, “There is your man behind the funeral.”
Dominic’s phone rang.
This time he answered instantly.
Vincent did not bother with hello.
“You missed our appointment.”
“I got distracted.”
“By a priest?”
Every person in the room froze.
Dominic’s gaze went to the window.
Nico was already moving.
Vincent laughed softly.
“You should really stop underestimating how many people prefer my money to your loyalty.”
Dominic walked toward the window.
Across the wet courtyard, a delivery van sat beside the monastery gate.
No driver visible.
Nico raised his phone and zoomed the camera.
A tiny lens glinted from the van’s side mirror.
They were being watched.
Vincent continued.
“I have a new offer.”
“Let me hear it.”
“You sign your proxy rights over to me. All trust voting authority connected to Elena’s estate.”
“And Lucy?”
“She goes home with Sarah.”
Sarah grabbed Dominic’s arm.
He looked at her.
Her answer was already in her eyes.
Do it.
Anything.
Dominic understood.
He also understood Vincent too well now.
“If I sign,” Dominic said, “Lucy stays valuable until the court approves the transfer.”
Silence.
Sarah’s grip tightened.
Vincent said, “You’re learning.”
“So the deal is a lie.”
“The deal is practical.”
“No. The practical thing would be to keep Lucy alive until you have every signature you need, then remove the complication.”
Sarah went pale.
Vincent stopped pretending to be warm.
“You always were smarter when you were angry.”
Dominic’s voice went cold.
“And you always talked too much when you thought you had already won.”
He ended the call.
Sarah hit his chest with both hands.
“You could have said yes!”
“And then what?”
“We get her back!”
“No. We give him the only reason he has to keep her alive.”
Sarah’s anger shattered into helplessness.
Dominic caught her wrists gently.
“I am not gambling with Lucy.”
“You already are.”
“Yes.”
The honesty stopped her.
Dominic looked at Father Keane.
“The rabbit carries the path.”
The priest shook his head. “I don’t know what that means.”
Dominic did.
Or he was beginning to.
Mr. Button had not always been Mr. Button.
Before Elena lost the glass eye, she had called him something else.
Dominic had forgotten the name for thirty years.
Now it came back with impossible clarity.
Gray Traveler.
Because when they were children, Dominic used to hide the rabbit around the neighborhood and draw Elena treasure maps to find it.
One place had been her favorite.
An old coin-operated telescope at the end of Pier 17.
She always called it “the one-eyed lookout.”
Dominic stared at the empty air.
One eye.
A rabbit that knows where home is.
A path only someone who remembered it before she was grown would understand.
Nico saw the change in his face.
“You know something.”
Dominic folded Elena’s letter and put it inside his coat.
“Yes.”
Sarah wiped her eyes.
“Where are we going?”
May you like
Dominic looked at her.
“Back to the place my sister taught me never to stop looking.”
