Chapter 7 - The Brother Daniel Buried
Daniel did not speak for the entire drive home.
Emma sat beside him.
She tried twice.
Stopped both times.
Some silences deserved respect.
Luke finally said:
"Rachel could be lying."
Daniel stared through the window.
"Why?"
"To protect herself."
"She knew his name."
"Half Chicago knew Michael existed."
"She said he's alive."
"People lie."
Daniel looked at him.
"So do friends."
Luke absorbed it.
He didn't defend himself.
Daniel turned back toward the window.
Michael Moretti had been two years older.
Everything Daniel wasn't.
Patient.
Educated.
Polite.
Michael liked contracts.
Daniel liked leverage.
Michael dreamed of building legitimate businesses.
Daniel wanted to make sure nobody could ever make them poor again.
They fought constantly.
Loved each other completely.
Then a warehouse burned.
Daniel arrived before firefighters finished.
Michael's body was supposedly inside.
The remains were badly burned.
Dental records confirmed identity.
Daniel had identified his brother by a ring.
Michael's ring.
For twenty years, Daniel had carried guilt.
Their last conversation had been an argument.
Daniel wanted to expand into something Michael considered dangerous.
Michael said:
"One day you're going to build an empire so big you won't know who's inside it."
Daniel told him:
"Then I'll burn it down."
Three days later, Michael burned instead.
Now Daniel wondered whether he'd buried the wrong man.
At home, he drank.
Emma found him after midnight.
One glass.
Then another.
She took the bottle.
Daniel looked at her.
"Put it back."
"No."
"I'm not in the mood."
"Neither am I."
"Emma."
"You're starting rehabilitation tomorrow."
"I can cancel."
"No."
"Watch me."
Emma set the bottle across the room.
"You're scared again."
Daniel laughed bitterly.
"My dead brother may be alive."
"Yes."
"Everyone around me may have lied."
"Yes."
"I spent two years in a wheelchair because somebody decided I belonged here."
Emma stepped closer.
"Also yes."
Daniel stared.
"Are you ever comforting?"
"Sometimes."
"When?"
"When people actually need comfort."
"What do I need?"
She crouched.
"Truth."
Daniel looked at her.
"You think Michael is alive?"
"I think we find out."
"How?"
"You're Daniel Moretti."
He frowned.
"And?"
"You tell people you're terrifying constantly."
"I don't tell people."
"Fine. They tell me."
A faint smile touched his face.
"Use it."
She stood.
"Find your brother."
Daniel stared at her.
Then picked up his phone.
The search began.
Old fire reports.
Dental records.
Insurance files.
Security footage.
Burial documents.
Twenty-year-old newspaper archives.
Luke worked through the night.
At four in the morning, he entered the study.
"Found something."
Daniel looked up.
"The dental records were amended."
"When?"
"Two days after identification."
"By whom?"
"Private dentist."
"Name?"
"Dead."
Daniel exhaled.
"Naturally."
Luke handed him another page.
"The body was listed as six-foot-one."
"Michael was six-three."
"I know."
Daniel's heart pounded.
"DNA?"
"None."
"Why?"
"Fire damage."
"So we buried a ring."
Luke didn't answer.
Emma appeared with coffee.
"What else?"
Luke showed a photograph.
A traffic camera in Minneapolis.
Six months after the warehouse fire.
A man crossing a street.
Older photograph.
Grainy.
But Daniel knew the walk.
Michael always leaned slightly to the left from an old baseball injury.
Daniel touched the screen.
"That's him."
Luke nodded.
"Could be."
"No."
Daniel's voice cracked.
"That's him."
Emma placed her hand on Daniel's shoulder.
This time, he didn't flinch.
The next clue came from a property record.
A house in Wisconsin purchased under the name Michael Marino.
Same birth month.
Same middle initial.
Utilities paid by a shell company.
Luke traced the shell company.
Owner unknown.
Daniel looked at him.
"We go."
The house sat near a frozen lake.
Small.
Quiet.
No guards visible.
Daniel refused to wait.
He rolled toward the porch.
Emma came.
Luke stayed behind with security.
Daniel knocked.
Nothing.
Again.
Footsteps.
The door opened.
An older man stood there.
Gray hair.
Scar across one side of his face.
Thinner.
But the eyes were the same.
Daniel stopped breathing.
Michael stared at him.
Then at the wheelchair.
His face collapsed.
"Danny."
Daniel's vision blurred.
Twenty years disappeared.
He was twenty-eight again.
Standing outside a burning warehouse.
Waiting for someone who never came out.
His hand moved before he thought.
He punched Michael.
Hard.
Michael stumbled back.
Emma gasped.
Michael touched his mouth.
Blood.
Daniel's chest heaved.
"You let me bury you."
Michael said nothing.
"You let Mom die believing you were dead."
"Danny—"
"You watched me bury you."
Michael's eyes filled.
"I know."
Daniel hit him again.
Less hard.
Then suddenly grabbed his brother's coat.
Pulled him close.
And broke.
Emma looked away.
Daniel cried against Michael's shoulder.
Not quietly.
Not carefully.
Twenty years of grief had nowhere else to go.
Michael held him.
"I'm sorry."
"You don't get to say that."
"I know."
"I hated you."
"I know."
"I missed you every day."
Michael cried.
"I know."
They stayed like that until Daniel let go.
Then his face hardened again.
"Why?"
Michael wiped his eyes.
"Because Sebastian Vale tried to kill me."
Daniel froze.
Michael looked toward Emma.
"Come inside."
The house smelled like coffee and old books.
Michael told them everything.
He had discovered Vale was laundering money through Moretti shipping operations.
Not millions.
Hundreds of millions.
From government contracts.
Healthcare companies.
Real-estate fraud.
Bribes.
Michael contacted a federal investigator.
Thomas Carter.
Emma's father.
Her face changed.
"What?"
Michael looked at her.
"You look like him."
Emma's hands shook.
"My father died in a car accident."
"No."
Michael said quietly:
"He was murdered."
Emma sat down.
Daniel looked at her.
For once, she was the one who couldn't speak.
Michael continued.
"Thomas and I were building a case."
"Vale found out," Daniel said.
"Yes."
"The warehouse?"
"Supposed to kill me."
"But you survived."
"Thomas got me out."
"And then?"
"Vale killed him."
Emma covered her mouth.
Daniel reached for her hand.
She grabbed his.
Hard.
Michael looked at them.
"Margaret knew enough to be dangerous."
"That's why she had the records," Emma whispered.
"Yes."
Michael nodded.
"I asked her to hide them."
Daniel stared.
"Why didn't you come back?"
"Because Vale threatened you."
"You think disappearing protected me?"
"For twenty years, yes."
Daniel gestured toward his chair.
"Excellent work."
Michael looked broken.
"I came back two years ago."
Daniel went still.
"What?"
"I tried to contact you."
"The night I was shot?"
Michael nodded.
"I contacted your security chief."
"Luke?"
"No."
Daniel frowned.
"Anthony Voss."
Daniel's former head of security.
A man who supposedly died three months after the shooting.
Michael leaned closer.
"Voss agreed to arrange a meeting."
Daniel whispered:
"He changed my route that night."
"Yes."
"And Vale knew."
"Yes."
Emma looked at Daniel.
The shooting had never been random.
Michael's next sentence made it worse.
"Daniel, Vale didn't just know the route."
"What?"
"Somebody inside your house gave it to him."
Silence.
"Who?"
Michael looked toward the window.
Then back.
"I don't know."
Daniel's phone rang.
Luke.
He answered.
"Danny."
"What?"
"Get out of there."
Daniel's pulse changed.
"Why?"
"Rachel Vale is dead."
Emma froze.
Luke continued:
"And whoever killed her left a message."
"What message?"
A pause.
May you like
Then Luke said:
Michael should have stayed dead.
