Pier Forty-Seven
Chapter 03 - Pier Forty-Seven
Dominic had read enough threats to recognize one disguised as a confession. Protect Anna Carter. The child may be the last honest heir we have. His father had always written like that near the end, as if truth were a debt he hated paying.
They reached Anna’s apartment with two security cars and no sirens. The lock had not been broken. The kitchen cabinet beneath the sink stood open, empty as a mouth. Nothing else had been disturbed, which somehow made the theft feel more intimate.
On Anna’s pillow lay a photograph. Her father stood in front of Pier 47 beside Salvatore Moretti. Behind them, half-hidden by a truck door, stood Julian Raines. On the back were three names: Paul Carter. Salvatore Moretti. Elias Voss.
“Who is Voss?” Anna asked. Dominic’s face closed. “My father’s accountant. He vanished the night your father died.” Anna looked at the photograph again. “Maybe because you were looking for a dead man, and he was never dead.”
Before Dominic could answer, Mrs. Alvarez from 3B cracked her door open. “Anna, a man came yesterday asking about Lily. Said he was from family services.” Dominic stepped closer. “What did he look like?” The hallway lights went out before she answered.
A shot cracked from the stairwell. Dominic shoved Anna and Lily behind him and fired once into the dark. Marco moved like a shadow from the other side. The violence was over so quickly Lily had only enough time to scream once.
In the aftermath, Dominic crouched in front of Lily. “I’m sorry,” he said. Adults apologized to children all the time in voices that meant hurry up and forgive me. Dominic’s voice did not. It sounded like the apology had cost him something.
“Are there more bad men?” Lily whispered. Dominic glanced at Anna. He could have lied. He did not. “Yes.” Lily nodded. “Then we should go somewhere with snacks.” Anna almost laughed, but fear turned it into a sob.
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Dominic took them not to a hotel or mansion, but to his late mother’s brownstone in Brooklyn Heights. Dust sheets covered old furniture. A portrait of a dark-eyed woman watched from above the mantel. Lily studied it and said, “She looks bossy.” Dominic’s expression softened by one almost invisible degree. “She was.”
Then an old landline in the back hall began to ring. Dominic stared at it. “No one has called this house in seventeen years.” Lily gripped her rabbit. “That’s the old man,” she whispered.
