Chapter 8 - Locker 214
Locker 214 contained a small wooden box.
Inside was Elena's father's duplicate ledger.
A cassette tape.
And a photograph.
The photograph showed three men standing together.
My father.
Elena's father.
And Lorenzo.
I stared at the image.
Lorenzo had been part of the organization.
Not an outsider.
A trusted man.
The cassette was older than me.
Gabriel found a player.
We listened.
Elena's father's voice filled the room.
“If anything happens to me, understand this: the theft is not being carried out by one man.”
I looked at Vittorio.
The recording continued.
“Someone inside the Moretti family is helping them.”
My blood ran cold.
Then he named a person.
My uncle.
He had died years ago.
But the recording explained that he had created a secret network that continued after his death.
Lorenzo was one of its members.
So was another person.
A woman.
The recording stopped before the name was spoken.
I hit the table.
“No.”
Gabriel looked at me.
“What?”
I replayed it.
The tape had been damaged.
But a second recording existed on the same cassette.
The voice became clearer.
“Her name begins with—”
Static.
Then silence.
Vittorio suddenly stood.
“I know who it is.”
I looked at him.
“Who?”
He hesitated.
“I need to be sure.”
“Vittorio.”
He closed his eyes.
“Clara.”
I froze.
“That was Elena's closest friend.”
My heart sank.
Clara had visited our house three days before Elena disappeared.
She had hugged Mia.
She had spoken to Elena privately.
She had even asked me about security.
Could she have been involved?
Before we could investigate, a gunshot shattered the window.
Everyone dropped.
I grabbed Mia.
Glass exploded across the floor.
Another shot struck the wall.
Vittorio pulled his weapon.
Gabriel killed the lights.
We moved through the back corridor.
The attack lasted less than a minute.
When we returned to the room, the wooden box was gone.
Someone had entered during the chaos.
But they had taken only one thing.
The duplicate ledger.
They left the photograph.
And beneath it was a note.
YOU'RE LOOKING AT THE WRONG WOMAN.
I stared at it.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
It contained one photograph.
Elena.
Alive.
Bound to a chair.
May you like
And standing behind her was Clara.
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