Chapter 7 - The Man Who Found Emma Finally Explained How
Marco came into my office at 7:30 the next morning.
No appointment.
No jacket.
The absence of the jacket was meant to communicate vulnerability.
Marco had always understood theater.
“You think I did this.”
I remained behind my desk.
“What makes you think that?”
“My access is gone. My men were reassigned. Paolo disappeared and now police are visiting my sister.”
“Where is Paolo?”
“I don’t know.”
“That sounds inconvenient.”
Marco looked toward the windows.
Then finally:
“I found Emma because Paolo called me.”
There it was.
“Before or after she was beaten?”
Marco closed his eyes briefly.
“After.”
“What did he say?”
“That he made a mistake.”
Emma had been attacked because Paolo believed she carried Noah’s duplicate evidence.
Paolo and another man cornered her.
They took the phone and wallet to make it resemble robbery.
When the crest was noticed, Paolo improvised the Kolov line.
“Why?”
“Because everybody already believes Kolov is your enemy.”
“And the lighter?”
Marco looked away.
“Mine.”
I felt something inside me go cold.
“You planted it?”
“No. Paolo took it from my office months ago. He liked old family memorabilia.”
Convenient.
Possible.
I asked the question that mattered.
“Did you order Noah’s accident?”
Marco stared at me.
“No.”
“Did you know about Harbor Crest theft?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
That answer hurt more.
“How long?”
“Your father’s final years.”
I stood.
Marco stayed where he was.
“My father knew?”
“Some of it.”
“You were stealing from him.”
“We were moving money where he told us to move it.”
My father.
Of course.
The dead never stop collecting interest.
Marco explained that my father had used Harbor Crest for off-book cargo and political payments years earlier. When I took control and began shutting those practices down, Marco continued several arrangements because he believed I was naive.
Then the side money became his.
“Paolo found out,” he said. “Then he wanted more.”
“And Noah?”
“Wrong place. Wrong paperwork.”
“You knew they hit him.”
“I knew after.”
“You covered it.”
“Yes.”
I wanted to cross the room and hit him.
Instead I pressed the intercom.
“Send Ramirez in.”
Marco finally looked frightened.
That was the moment I understood restraint was not mercy.
Sometimes restraint was the difference between revenge and evidence.
Detective Ramirez entered with two officers.
Marco looked at me as they cuffed him.
“I protected this family for twenty-three years.”
I answered:
“No. You protected your place inside it.”
May you like
But even then, Marco was not the mastermind.
That came later.
