Chapter 12 - The Family Dinner
Dominic did something I did not expect.
He invited everyone to dinner.
Vittorio.
Anthony.
Several senior members of the Caruso family.
Business partners.
Attorneys.
People who had known Dominic since childhood.
I thought the plan was insane.
Dominic called it useful.
“They think I found part of the truth.”
I stared at him.
“You did find part of the truth.”
“They don’t know how much.”
“And you want them inside the house?”
“Yes.”
“The house somebody already threw a rock through?”
“Yes.”
“This is why your insurance premiums are ridiculous.”
Dominic almost smiled.
The dinner was scheduled for Saturday.
Two days away.
Meanwhile Marco searched for Daniel.
I searched Maria’s room.
Dominic told me not to.
Naturally, I continued.
Every object in that hidden room had survived for a reason.
Maria had known she might disappear.
She had layered clues.
The photograph.
The tape.
The key.
The microfilm.
There had to be more.
On Friday afternoon I noticed marks beneath the writing desk.
Small pencil lines.
Height marks.
Children’s height marks.
Dominic.
Age seven.
Dominic.
Age eight.
Gabriel.
Age fourteen.
Then another name.
Lena.
Age five.
I stared at it.
“Dominic?”
He entered from the corridor.
“What?”
I pointed.
His face went blank.
“Who is Lena?”
He crouched beside the desk.
“I don’t know.”
“Could it be a cousin?”
“No.”
He touched the pencil line.
“Why would she be measured here?”
Rosa did not answer her phone.
Marco was still away.
Dominic searched through the old family albums.
No Lena.
No child matching the age.
Nothing.
Then he found one damaged photograph.
Maria sat on the lawn with Dominic and Gabriel.
Someone had been cut from the right side of the picture.
Only a tiny hand remained.
A child’s hand.
Dominic stared at it.
“Someone removed her.”
Rosa arrived twenty minutes later.
Dominic met her in the foyer holding the photograph.
“Who is Lena?”
Rosa stopped walking.
That was enough.
Dominic’s voice dropped.
“Who is she?”
Rosa removed her coat.
Her hands shook.
“She was your sister.”
The foyer seemed to tilt.
Dominic did not speak.
Rosa continued.
“She was born when you were five.”
“Why don’t I remember her?”
“You do.”
“No.”
“You called her Lena.”
“Her full name was Elena.”
Dominic’s face drained of color.
Images seemed to move behind his eyes.
Memory returning in pieces.
A little girl.
Dark curls.
Running through a hallway.
A yellow ribbon.
A laugh.
Then Dominic grabbed the edge of the console table.
“What happened to her?”
Rosa’s eyes filled.
“Your father told you she died.”
“When?”
“The same year Gabriel died.”
Dominic shook his head.
“No.”
“You were ten.”
“No.”
“She was five.”
“No.”
I understood.
Two children had vanished from Dominic’s life almost together.
His older brother died.
His little sister was declared dead.
Then his mother disappeared.
A child’s mind could bury almost anything under that much grief.
Dominic looked at Rosa.
“How did Elena die?”
Rosa did not answer.
Dominic stepped closer.
“Rosa.”
May you like
Her voice broke.
“She didn’t.”
