Chapter 3 - The Man With the White Sleeve
His name was Gideon Shaw.
Hotel operations director.
Expensive watch.
Perfect hair.
A way of looking at housekeepers that made us feel like objects left in the wrong corridor.
I had seen him supervising the service elevator repairs the night Sophia disappeared.
He wore a maintenance jacket over his suit because paint was being sprayed nearby.
When I told the detectives, they did not congratulate me.
They asked whether I was certain.
I appreciated that.
Certainty was not the same as desperation.
“I remember the jacket,” I said. “I remember the paint. I can’t identify his face from that footage.”
The detective nodded.
“Good distinction.”
By afternoon, they had obtained additional recordings.
Shaw entering a restricted corridor.
A wheeled housekeeping cart.
A gap in one camera’s coverage.
Then Shaw leaving through a side door without the cart.
None of it proved he had carried Sophia into the alley.
It proved he had questions to answer.
The trouble was that he had disappeared before anyone could ask them.
His office was empty.
His phone went unanswered.
Mrs. Gable told investigators he had left for a scheduled conference.
The conference organizers said they had never heard of him.
That evening, somebody broke into my apartment.
My landlord called while I was meeting Hannah.
“They say they’re police.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who says?”
“Two men. They have identification.”
Hannah reached for my phone.
“Ask which precinct. Do not let them remove anything.”
The line went quiet.
Then my landlord began shouting.
By the time actual officers arrived, the men were gone.
My door had been forced.
Drawers stood open.
The laundry basket Sophia had slept near was overturned.
Someone had sliced the lining of my coat.
I stared at the photographs in the police report.
“What were they looking for?”
The detective did not answer.
I already suspected.
The shawl.
It was the only thing I had carried away from the alley besides Sophia.
But the detectives had it now.
Whatever someone wanted, they had arrived too late.
Lorenzo learned about the break-in before I told him.
His chief of security, Marcus Bell, came to the hospital with him.
Unlike the men at the penthouse, Marcus introduced himself and asked whether I wanted him present.
I said yes.
“We can arrange secure accommodation,” he offered.
“Where?”
“A guest apartment at the Moretti residence.”
I almost laughed.
Two days earlier, I worried about being arrested.
Now a man whose name frightened half the waterfront wanted me under his roof.
Hannah watched my face.
“You have alternatives,” she said. “A hotel arranged through my office. A short-term rental. We can discuss them.”
I looked at Lorenzo.
He was watching the hospital room, not me.
Through the glass, a nurse adjusted Sophia’s blanket.
His hands were clenched.
“What happens if I say no?”
He turned.
“Then Marcus helps secure whichever place you choose.”
“And you won’t be offended?”
“I can survive disappointment.”
Something about the tiredness in his voice made the answer believable.
I chose the guest apartment.
Not because I trusted him completely.
Because the police knew the address, Hannah approved the arrangements, and I was tired of pretending being alone meant being safe.
Before leaving, I visited Sophia.
She caught my finger.
Her grip was astonishingly strong.
“I’m not going far,” I whispered.
Lorenzo stood in the doorway.
“Her mother used to say that.”
I looked up.
“Where is she?”
His face changed.
“Maria died four months ago.”
The room seemed to grow quieter.
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded once.
“She never saw Sophia learn to roll over.”
Such a small fact.
Such an enormous loss.
I looked at the baby holding my finger and understood, suddenly, why his fear seemed larger than the room.
He had already lost one person he could not replace.
Outside the hospital, cameras waited.
Marcus opened the car door while officers kept the path clear.
A reporter shouted, “Mr. Moretti, was the maid involved?”
Lorenzo stopped.
I expected anger.
Instead, he looked directly toward the cameras.
“Her name is Elena Vance.”
He waited until they quieted.
“She found my daughter alive. The investigation will establish everything else.”
Then he got into the car beside me.
He did not call me innocent before the evidence.
May you like
He did not let them call me nothing.
For that night, it was enough.
