Chapter 4 - Leo’s Last Delivery
Chloe read the sentence three times.
She still could not understand it.
Not because the words were complicated.
Because they changed the last two years of her life.
The police had called Leo’s death an accident.
A drunk driver had crossed the center line outside Evanston shortly after midnight.
Leo’s small sedan had gone through a guardrail.
The driver responsible had survived.
He had pleaded guilty.
He had served fourteen months.
Chloe had hated him.
She had built her grief around hating him.
Now a photograph was telling her she might have hated the wrong man.
Gabriel took the picture from her before she crushed it.
“Get the case file.”
His security chief nodded.
“Police report, insurance investigation, everything.”
“I want the driver too.”
Chloe looked up.
“The driver?”
“Name.”
“Patrick Doyle.”
Gabriel looked at his chief.
“Find him.”
Chloe stepped closer.
“You don’t touch him.”
Gabriel’s gaze shifted to her.
“What?”
“You find him.”
She pointed at his chest.
“You ask questions.”
“You bring him to a lawyer or the police if he committed a crime.”
Gabriel said nothing.
“No basements.”
Chloe continued.
“No broken fingers.”
One of the guards looked uncomfortable.
“No mysterious disappearances.”
Gabriel’s eyebrows rose.
“You have a colorful opinion of my work.”
“I’m beginning to think my opinion wasn’t colorful enough.”
Beatrice appeared beside them.
She signed.
Listen to her.
Gabriel understood that one.
He looked at his mother.
Then he looked at Chloe.
“Fine.”
Chloe blinked.
“Fine?”
“We find Doyle.”
“And?”
“And he remains physically intact.”
Beatrice nodded with satisfaction.
Chloe pointed at him again.
“I’m holding you to that.”
“I assumed you would.”
By sunrise, nobody had slept.
The attack on the mansion forced Gabriel to move Beatrice and Chloe to a secure townhouse near Lincoln Park.
Gabriel came with them.
Chloe argued that he could stay somewhere else.
Beatrice overruled her.
The townhouse had steel doors, bullet-resistant windows, and a kitchen Beatrice immediately declared badly organized.
For three hours Chloe translated while Gabriel’s investigators brought information.
Marco had used a false name when he first arrived in Chicago eleven years earlier.
Dominic Marchetti had financial connections to three shipping companies Gabriel believed were competitors.
Two cargo containers had disappeared during the previous six months.
And Patrick Doyle, the drunk driver who had killed Leo, had vanished after his release from prison.
Then the police report arrived.
Chloe sat at the kitchen table reading it.
Leo had died at 12:14 a.m.
His phone had never been recovered.
His backpack had been found open thirty yards from the car.
The police assumed the impact had scattered his belongings.
Something else bothered her.
“There should be another bag.”
Gabriel looked up.
“What?”
“Leo always carried two bags when he worked.”
“Why?”
“One had his personal stuff.”
“The other?”
“Delivery documents.”
Gabriel leaned closer.
“What company employed him?”
Chloe turned pages.
The report listed Leo as a student.
Nothing about delivery work.
“That’s wrong.”
“You’re sure?”
“He started the job that week.”
Gabriel picked up his phone.
“Find his employment records.”
Beatrice watched Chloe.
Then she signed.
What did Leo study?
“Computer science.”
Beatrice smiled.
Smart.
“Annoyingly.”
Beatrice signed.
Brothers should be annoying.
Chloe smiled despite herself.
Then her phone rang.
Unknown number.
Gabriel immediately held out his hand.
“Don’t answer.”
Chloe ignored him.
“Hello?”
Silence.
Then breathing.
“Who is this?”
A man spoke.
“Chloe Bennett?”
Gabriel moved closer.
“Yes.”
“My name is Patrick Doyle.”
Her body froze.
Gabriel heard the name.
His security team moved instantly.
One man began tracing the call.
Chloe tightened her grip on the phone.
“You killed my brother.”
Doyle started crying.
Not quietly.
Not dramatically.
It sounded like a man whose guilt had fermented until nothing remained but terror.
“No.”
Chloe could barely speak.
“You pleaded guilty.”
“I was drunk.”
“Exactly.”
“But I didn’t hit him.”
Gabriel’s eyes narrowed.
Chloe stood.
“What are you talking about?”
“There was another car.”
Her knees weakened.
Doyle continued.
“Black SUV.”
“I saw it hit him first.”
Chloe grabbed the table.
“They pushed him toward me.”
Gabriel whispered.
“Keep him talking.”
Chloe swallowed.
“Why didn’t you tell the police?”
“I did.”
Her heart hammered.
“What?”
“I told the first officer.”
“What happened?”
“A man came to the hospital.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“He showed me pictures of my daughter.”
Chloe closed her eyes.
Doyle’s voice broke.
“He said if I wanted her to grow up, I would confess.”
“Why are you telling me now?”
“Because they found me again.”
The trace team signaled.
Almost there.
Doyle whispered.
“I got a photograph yesterday.”
“Of what?”
“My daughter walking her son to school.”
Gabriel’s face darkened.
Doyle continued.
“There was a note.”
“What did it say?”
“Finish what you started.”
Chloe felt sick.
“What does that mean?”
“I think they want me to kill you.”
The room stopped moving.
Chloe stared straight ahead.
Gabriel reached for the phone.
She pulled away.
“Patrick.”
“Yes?”
“Where are you?”
Doyle hesitated.
“Please.”
Chloe said.
“If you really want to make this right, tell me where you are.”
He gave an address outside Milwaukee.
Gabriel’s team wrote it down.
“Stay there.”
Chloe said.
“We’re sending someone.”
“No police.”
“Why?”
“I tried.”
Doyle laughed bitterly.
“They already knew I was there.”
The line went dead.
Gabriel’s men moved.
Within two minutes vehicles were leaving Chicago.
Chloe remained standing beside the kitchen table.
Gabriel approached her.
“You should sit.”
“Don’t tell me to sit.”
He stopped.
She looked at him.
“Somebody threatened a child to cover up my brother’s murder.”
“Yes.”
“Using your company.”
“Yes.”
“Your mother discovered the same people.”
“Yes.”
Chloe’s hands shook.
“And you still think Dominic is only stealing shipments?”
Gabriel did not answer.
Beatrice suddenly tapped the table.
They looked at her.
She signed.
Leo knew something.
Chloe nodded.
“That’s why they killed him.”
Beatrice shook her head.
No.
She signed again.
Leo saved something.
Chloe frowned.
“What makes you think that?”
Beatrice pointed at the photograph.
Leo was standing beside the truck.
One hand was partly raised.
At first Chloe thought it was accidental.
Then she looked closely.
Leo’s right hand formed a shape.
Not random.
An ASL letter.
L.
He had been signing toward the camera.
Chloe’s heart jumped.
She grabbed the photograph.
His other hand was near his chest.
Another letter.
C.
L.
C.
“Lake County?”
Gabriel asked.
Chloe shook her head.
“Leo and I used letter codes when we were kids.”
“What does L-C mean?”
She stared at the picture.
“Library card.”
Gabriel frowned.
“That’s your code?”
“Our parents used to take away our phones when we fought.”
Chloe almost laughed.
“So we left messages inside old library books.”
Beatrice immediately understood.
She signed.
Maybe Leo left one.
Chloe stood so fast the chair tipped backward.
“There’s a library near Northwestern.”
Gabriel grabbed his coat.
“Then we’re going.”
They arrived before the library opened.
Gabriel somehow solved that problem with one phone call.
Chloe did not ask how.
She remembered the book immediately.
The Count of Monte Cristo.
Leo had loved it because he thought revenge stories were ridiculous and entertaining.
The librarian found the old copy in storage.
Chloe’s fingers trembled as she opened it.
Nothing.
She checked the binding.
Nothing.
Then she remembered.
“Page three hundred and seventeen.”
Gabriel watched.
“Why?”
“My birthday.”
The page had been cut near the spine.
Inside the hollow space was a tiny brass key.
And a folded receipt.
Union Station.
Locker 218.
Dated two days before Leo died.
Gabriel stared at it.
“Your brother knew he was in trouble.”
Chloe closed her fist around the key.
“Yes.”
By the time they reached Union Station, Gabriel had bought access to an entire storage area that had changed ownership twice since Leo’s death.
Locker 218 still existed.
Nobody spoke as Chloe inserted the key.
It turned.
The metal door opened.
Inside sat an old gray backpack.
Leo’s second bag.
Chloe touched it and nearly collapsed.
Two years disappeared.
For one terrible second she expected her brother to walk around the corner and complain that she had taken too long.
Gabriel stayed several feet behind her.
Even his guards kept their distance.
Chloe opened the bag.
Inside were delivery logs.
Photographs.
A cheap camera.
And a small flash drive wrapped inside a plastic sandwich bag.
There was also an envelope.
CHLOE.
Her name was written in Leo’s handwriting.
She pressed both hands to her mouth.
Beatrice moved beside her.
Chloe opened the letter.
Sis.
If you’re reading this, I either got paranoid or I got unlucky.
I started this delivery job because it paid twenty-two dollars an hour and because college textbooks are a criminal enterprise.
Then I realized the manifests didn’t match the containers.
I took pictures.
One of the guys noticed.
I’m going to the police tomorrow.
If something happens, the drive has copies.
Do not play detective.
Seriously.
You are five feet five and yell at spiders.
Take it to someone you trust.
Also, don’t blame the Costello boss until you know the truth.
I saw him arguing with the people doing this.
I don’t think he knows.
Love you.
Leo.
Chloe could no longer see the paper.
Her tears blurred everything.
Gabriel stood completely still.
Beatrice touched Chloe’s cheek.
Chloe handed Gabriel the letter.
He read the final lines twice.
“He defended me.”
Gabriel whispered.
“My brother didn’t even know you.”
“He saw something.”
Chloe wiped her face.
“We need to see the drive.”
Gabriel’s technician connected it to an isolated laptop inside the station office.
Folders appeared.
Cargo photographs.
Manifests.
License plates.
Audio recordings.
And one video.
The timestamp was twenty-three minutes before Leo’s crash.
The image shook as though Leo had filmed from behind a dumpster.
Dominic Marchetti appeared first.
Marco stood beside him.
Then a third man stepped from a black SUV.
Gray coat.
Scar beneath his eye.
Gabriel stared.
“Victor Sanz.”
Chloe looked at him.
“Who is he?”
“A broker.”
“For what?”
Gabriel hesitated.
“Anything people are willing to pay enough for.”
On the video Dominic handed Victor a folder.
Victor said something too quiet to hear.
Then Marco turned.
Directly toward Leo’s hiding place.
The video ended.
Chloe felt the room tilt.
Gabriel closed the laptop.
“We have enough.”
“For what?”
“To end this.”
Before Chloe could ask what that meant, Gabriel’s phone rang.
His security chief was calling from Wisconsin.
Gabriel answered.
His face changed.
“When?”
He listened.
Then looked at Chloe.
“What happened?”
He ended the call.
“Patrick Doyle is alive.”
Chloe exhaled.
“But?”
Gabriel’s eyes hardened.
“He wasn’t alone when my men arrived.”
“Who was there?”
“Dominic.”
Chloe went cold.
Gabriel continued.
“Dominic told Patrick he had thirty minutes to finish the job.”
“What job?”
Gabriel glanced toward Beatrice.
May you like
Then back at Chloe.
“To kill you.”
