The Man in the East Wing
Chapter 02 - The Man in the East Wing
Dominic did not meet Cesare at the elevator.
Every instinct told him to.
Drag him into the study.
Lock the door.
Ask once.
Then ask differently.
For twenty years, that method had produced answers.
Sometimes even true ones.
Grace touched his sleeve.
Not gripping.
Just enough to stop motion.
His eyes dropped to her hand.
She removed it.
“Your daughters are watching.”
Dominic looked back.
Olivia stood in front of Sophie.
Nora clutched the stuffed rabbit she had carried from the kitchen.
All three watched his face.
Grace was right.
That irritated him.
Which was probably why it mattered.
Dominic turned away from the elevator.
“Matteo.”
His security chief answered on the second ring.
“Boss.”
“Come home.”
A pause.
“Now?”
“Yes.”
“Problem?”
Dominic looked at Sophie.
“I need you here.”
Matteo arrived twenty-five minutes later.
Fifty.
Broad-shouldered.
Silver beginning at his temples.
He had protected Dominic since before Olivia was born.
He also knew every guard, every camera, every blind angle in the estate.
Dominic trusted him with his life.
That thought suddenly felt less comforting.
Cesare appeared for dinner as though nothing had changed.
Charcoal cardigan.
White shirt.
Silver cane he did not need but enjoyed.
He kissed Olivia’s head.
She flinched.
Dominic saw.
Cesare saw him seeing.
Interesting.
“Children tired?” Cesare asked.
“Yes.”
Dominic’s voice gave nothing away.
Grace served soup with Mrs. Donnelly.
The girls did not speak.
Not one word.
Cesare looked at Grace.
“You’re the new girl.”
“Grace Bennett.”
“I know.”
Grace paused.
Dominic noticed.
“How?”
Cesare smiled.
“This is my family’s home. I know who works in it.”
Grace moved on.
The answer felt wrong.
After dinner, Dominic sent the girls upstairs with Grace.
Then locked the study doors.
Cesare sat without being asked.
Matteo remained near the fireplace.
Dominic placed the summer photograph on the desk.
Cesare looked at it.
“What is this?”
“You tell me.”
Cesare stared.
“Barbecue.”
“Garden City.”
His uncle’s expression did not change.
“What about it?”
“Where were you the morning Isabelle died?”
Matteo’s head lifted.
Cesare looked slowly at Dominic.
“That again?”
Dominic became still.
“Again?”
“You asked fourteen months ago.”
“I asked whether you knew anything.”
“You asked everyone.”
“Not where you were.”
Cesare smiled faintly.
“I was in Manhattan.”
“Doing what?”
“Cardiology appointment.”
“Doctor?”
“Brenner.”
Matteo spoke.
“Brenner retired three years ago.”
Cesare’s eyes moved toward him.
“No.”
“Yes.”
Silence.
Cesare leaned back.
“My mistake. It was Levy.”
Dominic watched.
“One doctor became another quickly.”
“I’m seventy-one.”
“Convenient.”
Cesare’s face hardened.
“What exactly are you accusing me of?”
Dominic thought of Sophie.
Do it now.
He did not answer.
Instead:
“Security.”
Matteo opened a tablet.
“We pulled gate logs from the day Isabelle died.”
Cesare’s mouth thinned.
“You still have those?”
“Yes.”
“Your badge exited at 7:42 a.m.,” Matteo said.
“Returned 11:06.”
“The shooting was 8:19.”
Cesare looked at Dominic.
“Then I was gone.”
“Yes.”
“To Manhattan.”
“Yes.”
Dominic said:
“Garden City sits east.”
“I know geography.”
“Your car’s toll transponder should show westbound.”
Cesare said nothing.
Matteo tapped the tablet.
“There was no westbound bridge or tunnel charge.”
A tiny change around Cesare’s mouth.
Not fear.
Calculation.
Dominic knew that look.
He had inherited it from the same family.
“Where were you?”
Cesare stood.
“This conversation is insulting.”
“Sit.”
Cesare stopped.
Not because Dominic raised his voice.
He had not.
Then the older man smiled.
“There he is.”
“Sit.”
Cesare did.
Dominic leaned forward.
“My daughters spoke today.”
That did it.
Cesare’s face changed.
Only for a fraction of a second.
Matteo saw.
So did Dominic.
“They spoke?”
“Yes.”
Cesare looked toward the ceiling.
“What did they say?”
Dominic did not answer.
His uncle’s fingers tightened on the cane.
“Dominic.”
“What did you think they would say?”
Cesare’s jaw flexed.
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
“I’m not.”
The answer came too fast.
Dominic stared.
Then the study door opened.
Grace.
He had locked it.
“How did you—”
“Mrs. Donnelly has a key.”
Grace’s face was pale.
“What happened?”
“Nora found something.”
Dominic stood.
“What?”
Grace opened her hand.
A tiny brass key.
Old.
Tarnished.
Tied to a faded blue thread.
“She pulled the seam open on her stuffed rabbit.”
Cesare stopped moving.
Dominic saw it.
Grace did too.
“The rabbit was Isabelle’s,” Dominic said.
“Yes.”
Grace looked toward Cesare.
“And Mr. Romano seems to know what the key opens.”
Cesare’s face became blank.
Dominic stepped closer.
“What is it?”
His uncle stood.
“Nothing.”
“Wrong answer.”
Cesare looked at Grace.
Then at the key.
And for the first time that evening, fear arrived.
Not because Dominic had threatened him.
May you like
Because a dead woman had hidden something inside her daughter’s toy—
and Cesare had spent fourteen months believing it would never be found.
