Chapter 16 - The Man Who Came Back From Oregon
Vincent Moretti returned to Chicago on a gray Monday morning.
I didn't know he was coming until Agent Monroe called.
"Claire, we've arranged an interview with your former husband."
The words struck me strangely.
Former husband.
Once, that man had been the center of my universe.
Then he became the reason my universe collapsed.
Now he was a stranger connected to a nightmare I had worked so hard to survive.
"Why is he here?" I asked.
"Salvatore contacted him before his death. Vincent says he may have information relevant to the investigation."
I closed my eyes.
"Does he know about the threats?"
"Yes."
"About Julian?"
"Yes."
There was a pause.
"He asked that you be allowed to decline any meeting."
That surprised me.
The Vincent I remembered had demanded obedience.
This man, apparently, understood boundaries.
"I don't want to see him," I said.
"Understood."
But two hours later, Rachel called again.
"We've discovered something in the documents from Room 314. I think you should hear it directly."
I reluctantly agreed to attend an interview at the federal building, provided Julian could accompany me.
Vincent was already seated when we entered.
For a moment, I barely recognized him.
His once-imposing frame looked thinner.
His hair had begun turning silver at the temples.
He wore a plain charcoal sweater and dark trousers.
No expensive watch.
No bodyguards.
No Moretti insignia.
He stood when I entered.
Then his eyes fell on Julian's hand resting gently at my back.
Something painful moved across his face.
But he offered no protest.
"Claire," he said quietly.
"Vincent."
His gaze lingered on the wedding ring on my finger.
"I'm glad you found someone who takes care of you."
I did not answer.
Rachel invited us to sit.
Vincent placed an old leather folder on the table.
"Salvatore called me three nights ago," he began. "He told me there were records concerning Lily that he'd been ordered to destroy."
My stomach tightened.
"Ordered by whom?"
"My mother."
I stared at him.
Vincent continued.
"Salvatore said Margaret believed the records could expose a financial arrangement with Jonathan Price."
Rachel leaned forward.
"What arrangement?"
Vincent looked exhausted.
"Before Lily died, Price had begun moving money out of Moretti Enterprises through medical consulting contracts. I thought the payments were ordinary healthcare and security expenses."
"How much money?" Rachel asked.
"Millions."
I felt my anger rising.
"You didn't notice millions disappearing?"
His eyes met mine.
"I noticed. I didn't care enough to ask the right questions."
At least he no longer lied.
Rachel opened the folder.
Inside were copies of bank transfers, invoices, and handwritten notes.
The invoices referenced Northstar Clinical Advisory Services.
One carried Lily's patient identification number.
Julian's posture stiffened.
"Why would a child be associated with financial transfers?"
Vincent shook his head.
"I don't know. When I questioned Price about that invoice, he said it was part of a family medical contingency arrangement."
I could hardly believe what I was hearing.
"You accepted that?"
"I did."
His voice cracked.
"And I've hated myself for every careless decision since."
I looked away.
I had no room left in my heart for another apology.
Vincent continued.
"After Salvatore called, I contacted my mother. She refused to speak to me."
"Where is Margaret now?" Rachel asked.
"She has a property outside Milwaukee. But she isn't alone."
The room became still.
"Who is with her?"
Vincent hesitated.
"Evelyn Cross."
I gripped Julian's hand.
The missing nurse.
The woman who disappeared after Lily's funeral.
Living with Margaret.
Vincent lowered his eyes.
"I didn't know until Salvatore told me."
Rachel immediately stepped outside to coordinate with Wisconsin investigators.
For several minutes, the four of us remained silent.
Then Vincent looked at Julian.
"I owe you an apology."
Julian studied him.
"For what?"
"For the danger my old life has brought to your home."
Julian answered calmly.
"Your apology doesn't protect Claire. Evidence and accountability might."
Vincent nodded.
"You're right."
I watched him for a moment.
The ruthless man I once loved would have threatened Julian for speaking that way.
This one simply accepted the truth.
Then Vincent reached into his folder.
He removed a small pink envelope.
"Lily made this the week before she died," he said.
My breath stopped.
"Where did you get that?"
"Salvatore kept it. He mailed it to me in Oregon, and it arrived yesterday."
Across the front, in uneven childhood handwriting, were five words.
For Daddy, When He Comes Home.
Vincent's hands trembled.
"I never opened it."
He slid it toward me.
"I think you should decide what happens to it."
I picked up the envelope.
I recognized Lily's handwriting immediately.
The last time I had seen those little crooked letters, they were on a drawing taped to our refrigerator.
I turned the envelope over.
The seal had never been broken.
Then I noticed something written along the bottom in a different hand.
A date.
And a name.
Evelyn — November 14.
The date was three days after Lily died.
May you like
Someone had handled my daughter's final letter after her death.
And that someone was still hiding with Margaret Moretti.
