Chapter 7 - The Records That Refused to Burn
The archive was stored in a warehouse belonging to a terminal subcontractor.
Rosa did not go there.
Neither did Dante.
When Shaw explained that investigators were seeking lawful access, Rosa agreed to wait.
She hated every minute.
Ben found her reorganizing the same kitchen drawer for the third time.
“You’re going to alphabetize the spoons.”
“I could.”
“They’re all under S.”
She glared at him.
He smiled.
For twelve years, they had survived by turning fear into work.
Waiting felt like a skill nobody had taught them.
Three days later, Shaw called.
Investigators had secured records from the warehouse.
Some were water-damaged.
Some were incomplete.
Enough remained.
Original purchase documents.
Part numbers.
Inspection sheets.
A complaint Gabriel had submitted two days before the accident.
And photographs taken afterward.
Rosa examined authorized copies with a technical expert retained by Vivian.
She recognized the assembly immediately.
“That isn’t the part on the invoice.”
The expert nodded.
“It appears inconsistent. We’ll need the underlying specifications and the original images.”
Rosa leaned closer.
A small identifying plate was visible behind a guard.
Her father’s note returned.
Compare the serial numbers.
They did.
The replaced component had apparently remained in service.
The invoice had paid for a repair nobody performed.
Rosa left the meeting and vomited in a restroom.
Dante was waiting outside when she emerged.
Vivian had asked whether she wanted someone called.
For reasons Rosa could not yet explain, she had given his name.
He stood without approaching.
“What do you need?”
She looked at him.
The answer surprised her.
“Somewhere I don’t have to be useful.”
He nodded.
They went to a small restaurant across town.
No private room.
No guards looming at the door.
Dante’s security arrangements stayed discreet and outside.
Rosa ate half a bowl of soup and stared at the rest.
“My father packed my lunch the morning he died.”
Dante waited.
“He put a note in it. Told me not to fight with my instructor.”
“Did you?”
“Absolutely.”
His smile was gentle.
She looked down.
“I keep trying to remember whether I hugged him.”
Dante’s face changed.
“Rosa.”
“I was angry about something stupid. The car. Money. I don’t remember.”
“You were his daughter.”
She blinked.
“You were allowed to have a bad morning.”
The tears came before she could stop them.
She hated crying in public.
Hated the first broken breath.
Dante moved his chair slightly, shielding her from the room without touching her.
When she reached for his hand, he held it.
Nothing about the moment felt like being rescued.
It felt like being allowed to fall apart without losing her place.
Meanwhile, Carmine’s position deteriorated.
One captured gunman began cooperating through counsel.
Financial records connected intermediaries to the ambush.
Sloan’s explanations changed.
Voss publicly denied knowing anything about operational matters.
Then Matteo missed a scheduled check-in.
Dante learned first.
He called Shaw.
Rosa learned an hour later.
For a moment, all the progress vanished beneath one terrible possibility.
Matteo was twenty-six.
He had laughed nervously when Carmine insulted her.
Then crawled under a damaged walkway to help keep her alive.
Dante stood in Vivian’s conference room, phone against his ear.
The old version of him would have sent men.
Rosa saw the impulse cross his face.
Then he looked at Shaw.
“What do you need from me?”
The detective gave clear instructions.
He followed them.
By evening, officers located Matteo’s abandoned car.
By midnight, they found him alive at a roadside property after information from a witness led them there.
He had been assaulted.
He would recover.
Carmine was gone.
On Matteo’s hospital bedside table lay a small plastic evidence bag.
Inside was his broken phone.
He looked at Rosa and managed a weak smile.
“Your pier was safer.”
She sat beside him.
“That’s an extremely low standard.”
He laughed, then winced.
Dante stood near the window.
Rosa looked over.
For the first time, she saw him frightened without turning that fear into an order.
May you like
She held out her hand.
He crossed the room and took it.
