Chapter 8 - THE PRISON WITHOUT CAMERASBy dawn, every television station in Chicago showed the same footage.
Smoke rising over Graham Correctional Center.
Families gathering behind police barriers.
Officials insisting the situation was under control.
Liam’s name was not on the list of injured inmates.
It was not on the list of escaped inmates either.
It was as if he had vanished inside the prison.
My mother sat in a hospital bed at St. Catherine’s new oncology wing. Guards stood outside, but this time she had chosen them.
That distinction mattered.
She looked smaller beneath the blanket.
More fragile.
Yet when my father entered the room, she slapped him.
Hard.
Thomas accepted it without moving.
“You promised,” she said.
“I know.”
“You promised you would never come near them again unless it was safe.”
“It was never going to be safe.”
“No. You decided you could not bear staying away.”
“I came back for Liam.”
“You should have come back before he went to prison.”
My father lowered his head.
“I failed him.”
“You failed both of them.”
I stood near the window while twenty-two years of buried grief filled the room.
Dante remained outside.
He had offered privacy without being asked.
Another distinction that mattered.
“Where is the evidence?” I asked.
My mother looked toward me.
“What evidence?”
“The files Dad gave you.”
Her face closed.
“Emma—”
“No more protection. No more stories. Jake entered our lives to find those files. Liam lost four years. I lost—”
My voice broke.
I could not say the baby.
Not yet.
My mother reached for my hand.
I stepped away.
The hurt in her face nearly weakened me.
But truth had become more important than comfort.
“I hid the files inside a place no Moretti would willingly search,” she said.
“Where?”
“Salvatore Moretti’s mausoleum.”
Even my father looked stunned.
“You put them in the family crypt?”
“Thomas told me Salvatore feared only two things: public humiliation and eternal judgment. I thought his grave was the safest place.”
Dante entered quietly.
“Not anymore.”
My mother stiffened.
“You were listening?”
“The door was open.”
He looked at her.
“My father’s mausoleum was renovated six months ago.”
“By whom?” Thomas asked.
“Vittorio.”
My mother closed her eyes.
“Then he may have the evidence.”
“Not necessarily,” Dante said. “The original crypt contains twelve sealed compartments. Vittorio may not have known which one.”
My phone rang.
Unknown number.
I answered.
Static filled the line.
Then Liam’s voice whispered, “Emma?”
My knees weakened.
“Liam! Where are you?”
“I don’t know.”
“Are you hurt?”
“They moved me before the explosion. Guards came to my cell and said I was being transferred.”
“Who?”
“One was Captain Norris. The other wore a mask.”
Dante signaled to Luca.
Luca immediately began tracing the call.
“Can you see anything?” I asked.
“Metal walls. I think I’m in a truck.”
“Are you alone?”
“No.”
A man groaned in the background.
“They brought another prisoner.”
“Can you get out?”
“My hands are cuffed.”
The line crackled.
Liam lowered his voice.
“Emma, Jake is here.”
My blood froze.
“What?”
“He’s in the front with the driver. I heard him talking.”
“Can he hear you?”
“I stole a phone from the masked guard when they opened my cell.”
A shout sounded through the line.
Liam cursed.
“Listen to me. Jake said they’re taking me to where Dad buried the truth.”
The call disconnected.
Luca looked up.
“Signal lasted nineteen seconds. Interstate 55, moving north.”
“The mausoleum,” I said.
Dante was already reaching for his coat.
My father blocked him.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
“Liam is my son.”
“And Vittorio wants you there.”
“He wants all of us there.”
Dante looked at me.
“You remain with Rosa.”
“No.”
“Emma.”
“Stop saying my name like it’s an order.”
His jaw tightened.
“You have fractured ribs, severe anemia, and you fired a weapon less than three hours ago.”
“And Liam called me.”
“I heard him.”
“Then you know I’m going.”
My mother pulled back the blanket.
“So am I.”
“No,” three voices said at once.
She glared at us.
“I hid the files. I am the only one who knows the compartment.”
“You’re receiving chemotherapy,” I said.
“I am also your mother.”
“And I am your daughter. You’re staying here.”
For once, she heard the same finality she had used on me throughout childhood.
Her eyes filled.
“Bring him home.”
I kissed her forehead.
“I will.”
Snow covered Mount Carmel Cemetery when we arrived.
The Moretti mausoleum stood near the center, a gray stone structure guarded by carved angels.
The main gate hung open.
Fresh tire tracks crossed the snow.
Dante drew his weapon.
“Stay behind me.”
“I know.”
Thomas carried a pistol beneath his coat. Luca and two other men moved along the outer wall.
Inside, candles burned around Salvatore Moretti’s stone crypt.
Vittorio stood beside it.
Jake held Liam on his knees with a gun against his neck.
My brother looked thinner than I remembered. Blood covered one side of his face.
But he was alive.
“Emma,” Liam said.
Jake pressed the gun harder.
“Quiet.”
My father stepped forward.
“Let him go.”
Vittorio smiled.
“Thomas Foster. The ghost finally enters the tomb.”
“You wanted me. Here I am.”
“I wanted the ledgers.”
“They were never yours.”
“Everything in this city was ours.”
Dante entered beside me.
“Not anymore.”
Vittorio’s gaze moved to his nephew.
“You brought Emma. How touching.”
“You will release Liam.”
“After Eleanor tells me where the files are.”
“She isn’t here,” I said.
Vittorio’s smile faded.
“Then perhaps we remove one of her children.”
Jake pulled back the hammer.
I stepped forward.
“The files are beneath Sofia.”
Dante turned sharply.
I continued before he could stop me.
“My mother told me. She placed them beneath Sofia Moretti’s memorial compartment.”
Vittorio watched my face.
“You’re lying.”
“Then shoot Liam and never find out.”
Jake looked toward Vittorio.
For the first time, I saw uncertainty between them.
Good.
I walked toward the wall of memorial plaques.
Dante followed.
“You don’t know which compartment,” he whispered.
“No.”
“Then what are you doing?”
“Buying time.”
I touched Sofia’s engraved name.
BELOVED DAUGHTER AND SISTER.
The plaque shifted beneath my fingers.
Not sealed.
Behind it sat a metal box.
My breath stopped.
My mother had chosen Sofia after all.
I pulled the box free.
Vittorio’s eyes brightened.
“Bring it to me.”
I opened the lid.
Inside were financial ledgers, photographs, cassette tapes, and a single sealed envelope marked:
FOR DANTE MORETTI.
Dante stared at his name.
Vittorio raised his gun.
“Give me the box.”
I looked at Jake.
Then Liam.
Then the emergency fire lever near the mausoleum entrance.
Dante followed my gaze.
He understood.
I threw the box toward the candles.
Dante fired at the ceiling.
Thomas pulled the alarm.
The mausoleum erupted into noise.
Sprinklers activated.
Water poured over the stone floor.
Jake turned toward Vittorio.
Liam drove his shoulder backward, knocking him off balance.
I ran.
Jake fired.
The bullet struck the metal box.
Dante tackled Vittorio.
Thomas reached Liam.
I grabbed the scattered papers before water destroyed them.
Jake rose behind me.
His gun aimed at my back.
“You ruin everything,” he said.
Before he could fire, Liam wrapped a chain around Jake’s throat and dragged him backward.
The gun discharged into the floor.
Jake fell.
Luca rushed inside and secured him.
Dante stood over Vittorio’s unconscious body.
For one impossible moment, we had them both.
Police sirens approached.
Liam crawled toward me.
I wrapped my arms around him.
“You’re alive.”
“Barely.”
He looked over my shoulder at our father.
His face changed.
“No.”
Thomas stopped.
“Liam.”
“No.”
“He came back for you,” I said.
Liam’s eyes filled with years of anger.
“He came back twenty-two years too late.”
Behind us, Dante opened the envelope marked with his name.
He read the first page.
All color disappeared from his face.
“What is it?” I asked.
He looked toward Vittorio.
Then at his father’s grave.
“My sister didn’t die because her husband beat her.”
May you like
His voice broke for the first time.
“She died because Vittorio ordered him to kill her.”
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