Chapter 2 - The Man Who Was Never in Italy
For three seconds, nobody moved.
Then every electronic lock on the forty-second floor clicked at once.
Trevor rushed to the glass.
“What is happening?”
Employees outside had begun standing from their desks.
Some looked confused.
Others were already moving toward the stairwells.
Red emergency lights pulsed above the elevators.
Richard grabbed the conference-room handle.
Locked.
“Security lockdown.”
Victoria frowned.
“Why would the system lock us in?”
Martin said, “Standard protocol.”
Emma turned toward him.
“No, it isn’t.”
Martin’s eyes narrowed.
She nodded toward the hallway.
“If this were evacuation protocol, the doors would unlock.”
Nobody answered.
Richard looked at Martin.
“You know something.”
“I know we’re wasting time because an unemployed twenty-eight-year-old thinks she recognized a voice.”
Emma stared at him.
“You sent a message saying I recognized him.”
Martin’s expression flickered.
Richard picked up Martin’s phone.
The message was gone.
Trevor swore.
“You deleted it?”
Martin smiled thinly.
“You saw what you wanted to see.”
“No,” Emma said.
Every face turned toward her.
“You swiped left.”
Martin’s smile disappeared.
Emma pointed.
“Most messaging apps delete with a long press or menu. You swiped. That means you archived or hid it.”
Trevor stared at her.
Richard tapped through the screen.
Seconds later, the message reappeared.
SHE RECOGNIZED HIM.
Recipient:
S.P.
Richard looked up.
“Who is S.P.?”
Martin said nothing.
Emma already knew.
She turned toward the glass offices.
The nameplate beside the office where the gray-haired man had stood read:
SAMUEL PRICE
SENIOR PROCUREMENT COUNSEL
Her skin prickled.
“That’s him.”
Victoria stared.
“Samuel Price has worked here for three years.”
Emma walked toward the glass.
“Then Samuel Price is Luca Moretti.”
Martin laughed.
“That’s absurd.”
“You’re afraid.”
“I’m irritated.”
“No. You were irritated during my interview.”
Emma stepped closer.
“This is different.”
Martin’s jaw tightened.
Richard reached beneath the conference table and pulled a small key from a recessed compartment.
He inserted it into the wall beside the door.
The lock clicked.
“Manual override,” he said.
Trevor moved toward the hallway.
Richard stopped him.
“Nobody leaves alone.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am now.”
They entered the corridor together.
Half the offices had already emptied.
Security officers were moving from room to room.
Emma spotted something white near Samuel Price’s door.
An envelope.
She walked toward it.
Her name was written across the front.
EMMA REED.
Her blood ran cold.
Martin lunged.
Richard caught him by the shoulder.
Emma snatched the envelope first.
“What are you doing?” Martin snapped.
“It has my name on it.”
“Could be dangerous.”
“You weren’t worried about my safety five seconds ago.”
She opened it.
Inside was an old photograph.
Emma’s knees nearly gave way.
Her father stood on the left.
David Reed.
He looked younger.
Healthier.
Alive.
Beside him stood Luca Moretti.
The real Luca.
Before the gray hair.
Before the expensive suit.
Before he disappeared.
Behind them was a warehouse marked with Caldwell Meridian’s old blue-and-gold logo.
Emma stared.
“My father never worked here.”
Richard took the photograph.
His reaction told her he recognized something.
“What?”
He flipped it over.
Four words had been written on the back.
ASK WHY DAVID DIED.
Emma felt the corridor tilt.
“My father had a heart attack.”
Nobody responded.
She looked at Richard.
“My father had a heart attack.”
Richard handed the photograph back.
“I know what the death certificate says.”
Emma’s eyes burned.
“What does that mean?”
Victoria whispered, “Richard.”
He ignored her.
“Your father did work for Caldwell Meridian.”
“No.”
“Not as an employee.”
Emma laughed once, without humor.
“You’re lying.”
“I wish I were.”
Richard gestured toward a side office.
“Inside.”
They entered a small boardroom.
Richard locked it manually.
Emma remained standing.
“My father repaired restaurant refrigeration systems.”
“That’s what he did publicly.”
“What does that mean?”
Richard looked toward the photograph.
“David Reed was a forensic accountant before you were born.”
Emma stared.
“He never told you?”
“No.”
Richard nodded slowly.
“He stopped when you were very young.”
“Why?”
“Because he got involved in an investigation that nearly destroyed his life.”
Emma gripped the back of a chair.
“What investigation?”
Richard looked at Victoria.
Then Martin.
Martin said, “We should not discuss confidential corporate matters with her.”
Emma turned on him.
“My dead father is standing in a photograph outside your office.”
Martin’s expression remained cold.
“That does not give you access to company secrets.”
Richard said, “It does today.”
Martin went silent.
Richard sat.
“Seven years ago, my father hired David privately.”
Emma’s heartbeat hammered.
“Jonathan Caldwell?”
“Yes.”
Jonathan Caldwell had founded the company with his brother in the 1980s.
He died four years ago.
Richard continued.
“My father suspected someone was stealing from our European operation. At first, he thought it was expense fraud.”
“How much?”
“Maybe two million.”
Victoria said quietly, “It was more.”
Richard nodded.
“Much more.”
Emma sat without realizing it.
“Luca?”
“He was David’s contact in Italy.”
Emma shook her head.
“Luca worked at my grandparents’ grocery store.”
“For eight months.”
“He stocked shelves.”
Richard looked directly at her.
“He was hiding.”
Emma remembered Luca fixing the freezer.
Carrying produce crates.
Teaching her Italian slang when her grandmother wasn’t listening.
She had been twenty-one.
Her father liked him.
Trusted him.
Then one morning Luca disappeared.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
Her grandfather had refused to discuss him.
Emma whispered, “Who was he?”
Richard answered carefully.
“An investigator.”
“For you?”
“No.”
That single word changed something.
“For whom?”
Before Richard could answer, loud footsteps approached.
Security stopped outside.
Someone tried the handle.
Locked.
A man’s voice called through the door.
“Mr. Caldwell? Security. We need everyone to evacuate.”
Richard stood.
Victoria relaxed.
Emma didn’t.
She noticed Martin.
He looked relieved.
Too relieved.
Richard moved toward the door.
Emma caught his sleeve.
“Wait.”
He looked at her.
She pointed toward the ceiling.
“The alarm stopped.”
Everyone noticed.
Silence.
No siren.
No announcement.
No flashing evacuation instructions.
Yet someone outside still wanted them to open the door.
Richard stepped away.
The handle turned again.
“Mr. Caldwell?”
Richard didn’t answer.
Emma walked close to the wall.
“Ask him his name.”
Richard frowned.
“Why?”
“Do it.”
Richard raised his voice.
“Who is this?”
Pause.
“Security.”
“Your name.”
Another pause.
“Daniel.”
Victoria looked at Richard.
Richard shook his head.
There was no Daniel on executive-floor security.
The handle suddenly jerked violently.
Trevor backed away.
“What the hell?”
A metallic scrape came from the lock.
Someone was trying to force it.
Emma grabbed the photograph.
Richard moved everyone toward another exit connecting to a private office.
The main door burst inward.
A man in a security uniform entered.
But the badge clipped to his jacket was upside down.
He reached inside his coat.
Richard shoved Victoria down.
Emma ducked behind the table.
Then another man appeared behind the impostor.
Gray hair.
Charcoal suit.
Samuel Price.
Luca Moretti.
He struck the fake guard hard across the wrist.
A pistol clattered across the floor.
Richard stared.
Luca kicked the weapon away.
“Move!”
Nobody argued.
They ran through the side office and into a service stairwell.
Emma followed Luca down two flights before grabbing his arm.
He turned.
Up close, she could see the years.
New scars.
Lines around his eyes.
But it was him.
“Seven years,” she whispered.
His face changed.
“Emma—”
“My father died and you disappeared.”
“I know.”
“You knew him.”
“Yes.”
“You knew why he died.”
Luca looked toward the stairwell above them.
“We cannot do this here.”
“Then give me one answer.”
He hesitated.
Emma held up the photograph.
“Was my father’s heart attack natural?”
Luca’s silence lasted less than two seconds.
It was enough.
Emma felt something break inside her.
“No,” she whispered.
Luca looked at her with terrible sadness.
“No.”
Then footsteps thundered above them.
Luca grabbed her hand.
“Run.”
Emma did.
May you like
Because seven years after burying her father, she had just learned she might never have known how he died.
And someone inside Caldwell Meridian was willing to kill again to keep it that way.
