Chapter 4 - THE GOLD CROSS
By sunset, even the chapel had become an interrogation room.
Candles burned beneath the saints while armed men searched the priest who had baptized them.
Father Gabriel Russo had heard more Moretti confessions than God.
He had baptized Alejandro.
He had buried Alejandro’s father.
He had stood beside Kiara’s small white coffin while rain ran down the black umbrella in his hand.
For thirty-eight years, he had entered the estate without being searched.
That privilege ended at five twelve in the afternoon.
Victor’s guards found him in the private chapel near the western garden.
He was seated in the front pew with a rosary wrapped around one hand.
A gold cross rested against his knuckles.
He did not resist when they removed it.
He did not protest when they searched his robes.
He only looked disappointed.
“Fear has made this house forget its manners.”
Victor stood before him.
“A man died wearing one of my guard’s uniforms.”
“And another man nearly died drinking wine.”
The priest glanced toward the altar.
“Manners seem a modest loss.”
“Where were you at four thirty?”
“Here.”
“Alone?”
“With God.”
“God is not on the witness list.”
Father Gabriel smiled faintly.
But the smile did not reach his eyes.
He looked older beneath the chapel light than he had at Kiara’s funeral.
There were new lines around his mouth and a tremor in the hand holding the rosary.
Victor noticed the priest had wrapped the beads so tightly that the metal links had marked his skin.
“Guilt or fear?” Victor asked.
“Those are cousins.”
“Which one brought you here before anyone announced the lockdown?”
Father Gabriel glanced toward the altar.
“I come here every afternoon at four.”
“Today you came at four fourteen.”
The priest’s head turned sharply.
Victor held up the chapel access log.
“You entered one minute before Mara placed the wine on Alejandro’s desk.”
“I received a message asking me to pray for a dying man.”
“From whom?”
“The number was hidden.”
“You did not find that strange?”
“In this family, requests for prayer rarely include honest names.”
“He rarely cooperates with subpoenas.”
Victor did not smile.
“Did you call the library?”
“No.”
“Did you know Daniel Carter?”
The priest’s expression changed by less than a breath.
Victor saw it.
“So you did.”
“I knew many men who worked for this family.”
“Did you know about Lazarus?”
“No.”
“Did you know Daniel was accused of causing Kiara’s death?”
“I gave the eulogy.”
“That was not my question.”
Father Gabriel looked at him.
“Yes.”
Victor reached into an evidence bag and removed the listening device Olivia had found.
“This device was issued from my inventory.”
He placed it on the pew.
“The access log says I signed it out to you six weeks ago.”
Father Gabriel looked down at it.
“I have never seen that object.”
“Your signature says otherwise.”
“My signature has appeared on many things I never touched.”
“Then someone thinks you are useful to blame.”
“Or you think I am useful to frighten.”
Victor leaned closer.
“A four-year-old child identified your voice.”
Father Gabriel’s calm finally broke.
“What child?”
“Emma Carter.”
The priest’s eyes sharpened.
“Daniel’s daughter is here?”
Victor grabbed the front of his robe.
“You knew she existed.”
Father Gabriel did not look afraid.
“I baptized her.”
The chapel doors opened.
Emma stood behind Olivia in the corridor.
The moment she saw Father Gabriel, she pointed.
“That is him.”
The priest looked stricken.
“You heard my voice today?”
Emma nodded.
“On the phone.”
“I did not call the library.”
“You said Daniel.”
Father Gabriel stared at Olivia.
Then his gaze moved to the hidden camera component in Victor’s hand.
“Someone used a confession recording.”
Victor’s expression sharpened.
“What recording?”
“Daniel came to me before he died. I recorded part of what he said because he feared he would not survive long enough to repeat it.”
“Where is it?”
“I hid it.”
“Who knew?”
“No one.”
Victor looked around the chapel.
“Nothing is known by no one in this house.”
Father Gabriel lowered his eyes.
“The recording contained my voice saying Daniel’s name. Whoever called you had access to the chapel archive.”
Alejandro entered with Olivia, Vincent, and two guards.
Dr. Voss had objected until Alejandro threatened to conduct the questioning from a hospital bed surrounded by armed men.
The doctor compromised by attaching a portable monitor beneath Alejandro’s shirt.
Its alarm would sound if his heart rhythm became dangerous.
Alejandro stopped at the end of the pew.
“You baptized Emma.”
Father Gabriel looked at Olivia.
“I promised Daniel I would watch over his family.”
Olivia’s eyes filled with anger.
“You disappeared after the funeral.”
“I was told you left New York.”
“By whom?”
The priest looked toward Alejandro.
“Bruno.”
Alejandro’s expression hardened.
“Bruno told you Olivia left?”
“Yes.”
“That is a lie,” Olivia said.
“I lived in Queens for two years after Daniel died.”
Father Gabriel seemed genuinely disturbed.
“Then someone wanted us separated.”
Vincent moved beside the pew.
“Convenient.”
The priest turned to him.
“Truth often sounds convenient to men who invoice by the hour.”
Vincent’s mouth tightened.
Alejandro held out his hand.
Victor gave him the gold cross.
It was heavier than it looked.
A black enamel crescent decorated one side.
Emma’s drawing had not yet been mentioned, but Olivia noticed the shape immediately.
“Emma drew that.”
Alejandro looked at her.
“What?”
“After Daniel died, she began drawing shapes she remembered from people who visited him. A black crescent. I thought it was a moon.”
Father Gabriel’s face lost color.
“This cross belonged to Daniel.”
Olivia stared at him.
“No.”
“He gave it to me three days before the explosion.”
“He was not Catholic.”
“It was not a religious gift.”
The priest reached toward the cross.
Victor blocked him.
Father Gabriel looked at Alejandro.
“There is a compartment in the stem.”
Alejandro twisted the base.
Nothing happened.
“Press the black crescent.”
He did.
A narrow panel opened.
Inside was a strip of microfilm sealed beneath glass.
Vincent leaned closer.
“What is on it?”
“I do not know,” Father Gabriel said.
“Daniel told me to keep it until Lazarus woke.”
Olivia’s voice shook.
“You knew the name.”
“Yes.”
“You just told Victor you did not.”
“I did not know it was a security system.”
“You lied.”
“I protected a promise.”
Olivia stepped closer.
“My husband died believing he had no one.”
Father Gabriel lowered his eyes.
“I have asked forgiveness for that every morning.”
“Ask louder.”
Alejandro handed the cross to Victor.
“Read the film.”
Victor sent it to the estate’s imaging room under guard.
The priest remained in the chapel.
Alejandro sat in the pew across from him.
“What did Daniel tell you?”
Father Gabriel wrapped his empty hand around the rosary.
“He said someone inside your family planned to replace the eastern convoy route.”
“The route that killed Kiara.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“He did not know.”
“Then why was he blamed?”
“Because he discovered the change too late and tried to stop it.”
Alejandro’s jaw tightened.
“The police found his authorization code in the route system.”
“Daniel said the code was stolen.”
“Everyone says evidence was stolen after it points at them.”
Father Gabriel leaned forward.
“Daniel also said the child in the car was not supposed to be Kiara.”
The chapel became silent.
Olivia gripped the back of a pew.
Alejandro’s face emptied.
“What does that mean?”
“I do not know.”
“You buried her.”
“I buried a sealed coffin.”
The monitor beneath Alejandro’s shirt began to beep faster.
Dr. Voss, waiting outside the chapel, entered immediately.
“Sit back.”
Alejandro ignored him.
“Bruno identified the body.”
Father Gabriel nodded slowly.
“And Vincent handled the release papers.”
Everyone looked at the attorney.
Vincent remained composed.
“The body was badly burned.”
Alejandro’s voice dropped.
“You told me the dental records matched.”
“They did.”
“Did you see them?”
“I saw the report.”
“Who signed it?”
Vincent paused.
“Dr. Samuel Price.”
Dr. Voss looked up.
“Price died two months after the bombing.”
“How?” Olivia asked.
“House fire.”
Alejandro closed his eyes once.
Three years of grief shifted beneath him like broken ground.
Victor returned carrying a transparent imaging sheet.
“The film contains a list of dates and payment numbers.”
He placed it against a light panel near the altar.
Rows of tiny typed entries appeared.
Each listed a date, a six-digit code, and an amount.
Most were marked with initials.
One entry was dated the morning Kiara died.
B.D. — 2,000,000.
Bruno DeLuca.
Two million dollars.
A second entry appeared beneath it.
V.B. — 750,000.
Vincent Bellandi.
The attorney stared at the letters.
“That is not proof of payment.”
Alejandro stood.
“It is enough to ask what you purchased.”
“I purchased nothing.”
Victor’s radio crackled.
A guard spoke from the east wing.
“Security, we have a problem.”
Victor answered.
“What problem?”
“Mr. DeLuca is gone.”
The chapel doors seemed to close around them.
“How?” Victor demanded.
“The four guards are unconscious. No gunshots.”
“Cameras?”
“Looped.”
Alejandro looked at the payment list.
Bruno’s initials burned under the chapel light.
Then another guard spoke over the radio.
“Sir, we found something in Mrs. Carter’s locker.”
Olivia turned.
“What?”
The answer came through static.
“A silver vial.”
Olivia’s first instinct was to run toward the staff wing.
Her second was to look at Vincent.
The attorney had not changed expression when his initials appeared on the film.
That calm troubled her more than Bruno’s anger.
“You knew where my locker was,” she said.
Vincent looked at her.
“Every employee locker is listed in the household records.”
“You control those records.”
“So does Mara. So does security. So does payroll.”
“You signed my employment contract.”
“I sign hundreds.”
“But you recognized Daniel’s name the moment Bruno said it.”
Vincent’s eyes cooled.
“I recognized a man connected to the worst day in this family’s history.”
Father Gabriel rose from the pew.
“History is often written by whoever reaches the paperwork first.”
Vincent turned toward him.
“And confession is often shaped by whoever controls the guilt.”
Alejandro stepped between them.
“This is not a courtroom or a chapel.”
He looked at Olivia.
“Did anyone see you open that locker today?”
“Mara did this morning. Two maids changed beside me. The lock sticks.”
“Could someone copy your key?”
“Anyone with wax and thirty seconds.”
Victor examined her key ring.
A faint line of gray residue clung to the locker key.
Impression wax.
Someone had copied it.
It did not prove Olivia innocent.
It proved the frame had been prepared.
Dr. Voss took the radio from Victor.
“Do not open it.”
“Too late, Doctor.”
The guard coughed.
A second cough followed.
Then came a strangled breath.
The radio hit the floor on the other end.
May you like
The line remained open.
Someone in the staff corridor began screaming.
