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19

DANTE

A fter Barbara’s emotional breakdown, Lark and I went upstairs. Alice was in her office, and her expression when we entered told me she’d found something significant. Multiple monitors displayed satellite images, property records, and what looked like utility records.

Lark’s hand found mine as we settled into chairs beside the workspace. The simple contact helped ground me, even as anxiety churned in my stomach about what we might discover.

After everything that had happened—the coffee shop flooding, the years of surveillance, the brick through the window with Vincent’s message—I wasn’t sure how either of us would handle more revelations. But secrets had a way of surfacing, no matter how deeply they were buried.

“Tell us what you found,” I said quietly, noting how Lark’s fingers tightened around mine.

Alice turned one of her monitors toward us. “I’ve been digging into the compound’s history. There’s something strange about the period between 1998 and 2011.” She pulled up a series of satellite images. “During those years, it appeared completely abandoned. Only minimal utility usage, no maintenance records, nothing to indicate anyone was living there.”

“My father died in 2010,” I said, memories of that time flooding back.

“Right. Here’s where it gets interesting.” She switched to more recent images. “After that last ownership transfer in 2011, someone clearly took up residence. Utilities were restored, regular deliveries began, and there’s evidence of ongoing maintenance.”

Lark leaned forward, studying the screen. The glow from the monitor caught her hair, creating that halo effect that had first drawn me to her at Method Tea and Coffee. “Can you tell who’s living there?”

“Not yet, but Tex helped me access some high-resolution overhead imagery.” Alice pulled up another set of photos. “There’s definitely someone in residence, but they’re careful. There’s no indication they ever leave the house.”

My training kicked in as I analyzed the images, looking for patterns, anomalies—anything that might give us answers about my mother’s disappearance or the connection to Lark’s family. “What about the deliveries?”

“There’s a caretaker who brings supplies—groceries, other necessities. Everything gets left on a screened porch.” She zoomed in on one image. “We can’t get a good enough angle to see who retrieves the deliveries.”

“Have you identified the caretaker?” I asked, thinking of all the ways Vincent had maintained his network of informants and accomplices over the years.

“Working on it. But there’s more.” She glanced at her phone as a new message came in. “Tank just reported evidence from overheads showing boats similar to the ones we spotted here on Canada Lake, approaching that property.”

Lark’s hand tightened in mine when Alice pulled up another image.

“Tex got this about an hour ago.”

The photo showed two boats, each carrying two men. One had his sleeves rolled up, revealing the same eagle tattoo I’d seen in the surveillance photos from the coffee-shop incident. The Mazzeo family symbol. The discovery of Lark’s possible connection to their family through DNA made the sight of that tattoo even more significant now.

“That mark,” I said quietly. “It matches the one from the guy who came into your shop.”

Lark’s eyes widened. “It does.”

I nodded grimly. Whatever game Vincent was playing, these guys were pawns—probably recruited from families with old connections to the Mazzeos. The real question was why my brother would be working with a rival family, especially one that might have ties to Lark.

“Grit, Tank, and Blackjack are setting up surveillance,” Alice continued. “They’ve got thermal-imaging equipment that shows only one person living in the main house.”

“My mother?” The word came out rougher than I’d intended. The thought of her possibly being alive, hidden away all these years, made my chest tight. She was only thirty-eight when she disappeared—just a few years older than I was now.

“It’s possible.” Alice’s fingers flew over her keyboard. “The deliveries are regular—every Sunday and Wednesday. Always the same caretaker, always the same protocol.”

“What about my mother?” Lark asked softly. “You said only one person lived there.”

Something inside me shifted. As much as I prayed everything we were learning would lead me to find my own mother, I wished it was Summer instead. She was nineteen when she vanished—barely more than a child herself, with a newborn baby that she left in her mother’s care.

“Like I said, thermal imaging only shows one heat signature at the moment, but regardless of what that indicates, the utility usage patterns suggest whoever it is, isn’t there alone. It doesn’t add up.”

“Thermal imaging isn’t infallible. There are ways to go undetected.”

“You’re absolutely right, Alessandro,” said Alice. “And there’s more. We discovered the caretaker makes regular trips to a post office box in Lake Pleasant. Tex tracked some of the mail—it gets forwarded to and from various locations around the country, never staying at one address for long. Like the one here, all are boxes, of course. Oh, and some are in other countries.”

“A relay system,” I said, recognizing the technique. “Keep the real destination hidden by bouncing the mail through multiple points.”

“Exactly.” Alice nodded. “But here’s something else interesting—the names listed on the forwarding addresses. They alternate between two different ones: Catherine Ross and Maria Bennett.”

“My mother’s middle name was Catherine,” Lark whispered.

“And Maria was my grandmother’s name,” I added, thinking of the marinara-sauce recipe Barbara had mentioned. The one that had supposedly been passed down through her family but actually came from my grandmother.

“If they are aliases, they’re familiar enough to remember easily, but not obvious connections to their real identities.”

She pulled up another window, this one showing financial records. “There’s more. Two separate accounts receive regular deposits—both opened in 1998, both managed through offshore banks. The amounts are substantial.”

“Hush money?” Lark suggested.

“Exactly,” I said grimly. “Insurance that they’d keep quiet about whatever they knew.”

“Or maybe just a way to stay alive.”

Alice nodded at Lark’s comment. “The deposits come through shell companies, but Tex traced them back to entities we know Vincent controlled.”

That implication hit me hard. My brother hadn’t killed them—he’d been paying to keep them hidden. But why? What could they have known that was worth maintaining this elaborate arrangement for over twenty years? Especially after Vincent Sr. died.

“There’s something else,” Alice said, her expression troubled. “Tex found old police reports from 1998. There was a series of murders around Great Sacandaga Lake that summer, including Joseph Rossetti’s.” My newly discovered biological father. “But one case stood out—a woman whose body was never identified was found in an abandoned mine shaft. The incident records cite evidence found at the scene indicating foul play. It also suggests there was more than one person involved, meaning in addition to the killer.”

“What kind of evidence?” I asked.

“Blood. Tank sent a team to gather samples. There are a lot of factors that determine whether DNA can be extracted months, let alone years, later. However, there’s a chance they’ll find something else that could be used.”

Lark’s sharp intake of breath matched my own unease. The pieces were starting to form a pattern I didn’t like.

“The timing fits with when your mothers disappeared,” Alice continued.

“You think one person died, but another might have escaped?” Lark’s voice shook.

“It’s possible.” Alice’s fingers drummed on her desk as another image appeared on the screen. “They found a piece of jewelry at the scene. The notes say it was Italian and worth a lot of money at the time. More now.”

“Proof of death,” I muttered.

“But you think someone got away?” Lark asked.

“Maybe.” She shook her head. “It’s also possible that the unidentified woman has no connection to either of you.” Alice’s phone buzzed with an incoming message, and her eyes widened as she read it.

“What is it?” Lark and I asked simultaneously.

“Tex just reported a development. Someone’s making a phone call on a landline.”

“Can it be traced?” I asked.

Alice shook her head. “It’s being bounced through multiple relays. But look at this—” She pulled up a graph showing phone activity over the past year. “Every two weeks, like clockwork. Same duration, same time of day.”

“Someone checking in,” Lark suggested softly.

“Again, maybe. It’s certainly a plausible explanation, given the pattern. Hold on,” Alice said, moving to a different monitor. “He sent something else. Overheads show movement at night—like someone walking the grounds, but it’s inconsistent. Sometimes, there appear to be two people, some only one, and others, there are three. In every instance, the people are heavily clothed, including hoods that obscure their faces.”

“So there is more than one person staying there,” I said more than asked. I sat back, processing this new information. Once again, every answer led to more questions. The occupants could be our mothers, or it could be another dead end, another piece in Vincent’s elaborate game. But something about this felt different—like we were finally getting close to the truth.

“We need to be careful,” I finally said. “Whoever these people are, they’ve managed to keep themselves hidden for years.”

The image on the screen changed again. “Look,” said Alice, pointing.

“Is that a fourth person?” I asked.

She nodded, then opened another window that showed the man we presumed was a caretaker. His size and his manner of carrying himself was different than any of the others that had appeared in the footage Tex had found so far.

“Who is that?” Lark whispered, leaning in for a closer look.

“The easiest way to find out is to ask,” I said, already forming a plan of attack. Tomorrow, the speculation and guessing would end when I visited the compound and found out exactly who lived there.

Something occurred to me. “Can I see the date stamp on that last one?”

Alice zoomed in on the image.

What I saw aligned with my suspicion. It was captured shortly before my brother was taken into custody. “That’s Vincent,” I stated emphatically, knowing with absolute certainty it was him.

Lark was quiet for the remainder of the day and into the evening. Between her grandmother’s withdrawal into her bedroom and the fear that we’d discover the unidentified woman found in the mining shaft was her mom, it seemed like she was giving up. Letting go of the hope she’d ever see her birth mother again.

“Come here,” I said, snuggling her close in front of the lower-level fireplace. When she buried her head into my chest, the dampness of her tears soaked into my shirt. I’d never wanted to take on another’s pain more than I did right now. I hated that she was hurting and that, for now, I was powerless to make things better.

“Will you sleep with me again tonight?” She raised her head, and her eyes bored into mine.

I’d ask if she was sure, if she feared it would upset her grandmother more, but this wasn’t about Barbara. Lark needed me, and that trumped everything else.

“Of course I will.”

“Alessandro?”

I cupped her cheek. “What, cuore mio ?”

“I want it to be different tonight.” She rested her hand on my thigh. Its proximity to my quickly hardening cock underscored her meaning.

Again, I’d ask if she was sure, but the last thing I wanted was for her to think I was rejecting her. Every kiss we’d shared, every touch, sent desire coursing through me. I wanted her as much as my next breath.

When she leaned closer, I brought my lips to hers. Our kiss was soft and gentle, as though our mouths were making slow, sweet love.

Not wanting anything or anyone to ruin this moment, I shifted my body so I could lift her in my arms and carried her into the bedroom. When I lowered her onto the mattress, Lark clung to me, bringing me down with her. I deepened the kiss, spurred on by how she trembled beside me and held onto my shoulders as if she’d never let go.

Our tongues stroked rather than battled as I reveled in her sweet taste that I’d become addicted to since the very first time her mouth opened to mine.

Lark lowered one hand to my waist and dipped under my shirt. I gasped at the feel of her palm on my bare skin, making my already straining penis ache with want.

Mimicking her actions, I eased my hand under her sweater, reaching up and covering her breast. When my fingers found her tight nipple, she groaned, and, God, how I wanted to taste her.

“Alessandro…” When she pulled away enough to make me think she’d changed her mind, I prepared to roll off the bed in the opposite direction, leave the room, and make my way upstairs to the bed I’d sleep in alone. And I was okay with that. This was about Lark. What she needed, what she wanted. Always.

As I raised my eyes in anticipation of her unnecessary apology, I saw she’d removed her sweater and was working to unfasten her jeans.

“Do you want me?” she asked.

My eyes flared. “You know I do.”

“Then, touch me.”

I was off the bed in a flash, standing next to her. When my hands landed on her bare waist, she moved them to the zipper of her pants.

“Tell me, Lark. How do you want me?” I asked as I lowered her, reaching around to remove the denim from her body.

“I want us to be one, Alessandro. Like we’re meant to be.” She reached behind her and removed her bra, then stepped out of the jeans and panties I’d pulled down.

Lark, standing in front of me naked, was a dream I’d once doubted would ever come true. Yet, here we were. Not in a frenzy of untamed desire, but with the very intentional understanding that joining our bodies together was meant to be.

Her fingers gently unbuttoned my shirt while I unfastened my belt and zipper, then pushed my pants down like I had hers. Lark’s palms rested on my chest as I shrugged the sleeves off, leaving me as naked as she was.

Claiming her lips in a long, deep kiss drove all thoughts of uncertainty from my mind. Her breathless whimpers, how she reached up with one hand, weaving her fingers in my hair, holding me close to her, had blood surging to my already engorged shaft.

I gathered her in my arms and, for the second time, rested her body on the bed. She reached for me, but I didn’t lie beside her. Instead, I grasped each of her ankles and spread her legs apart before kneeling between them. Then I kissed her again, starting with her lips, then trailing down to her neck where I could feel her pulse pounding.

Going lower still, I lavished attention on both her breasts, and when her back arched and she mewled, I cupped her mound. Her wetness on my hand was evidence that her need matched mine, and when I parted her folds, thrusting one finger inside her pussy while the pad of my thumb pressed against her clit, she bucked, circling my wrist with her hand, but not to push it away. To keep it where it was, bringing her pleasure.

Unable to resist, I continued the trail of kisses down the center of her body, using my tongue rather than hand to continue my onslaught of sexual ravishment. When her body spasmed, her pussy drenched my mouth, and her fingernails dug into the flesh of my shoulders, I raised my body, aligning my cock with her opening. God, how I wanted to thrust inside her and feel the walls of her pussy clench my bare cock. Instead, I leaned up and kissed her.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, pulling away.

“I did not prepare in advance for this,” I said with a grin.

Her eyes scrunched. “Oh.” She reached her hand to the side, motioning to the drawer of the bedside table.

“You’ll need to either let me up or open it yourself.” She grinned like I had.

“Really?” I asked with wide eyes, feeling like a kid who’d just been given the keys to a candy store. When I pulled it open and saw the foil packets inside, I nearly wept with joy. Raising my body, I tore one packet open, keeping my eyes riveted to Lark’s as I rolled the condom onto my hardness.

“I’d say you should thank Alice later, but I’m sure she doesn’t expect or want us to.” She winked.

I positioned myself between her legs for the second time, used my fingers to make sure she was ready for me, then eased my body into hers.

“I need more,” she whispered when I stilled.

“And I need a minute.”

She smiled and reached behind me, putting her hands on my ass. “Please, Alessandro.”

As tempted as I was to thrust hard, I didn’t. I wanted this to last, for both our sakes.

Reaching up with one hand, I rested my palm against her cheek and kept my gaze riveted to hers.

“Nothing in my life has ever felt this right,” she said, turning her head to kiss my hand. “Everything between us has been that way. You and I were meant to be together, Alessandro. I hope you believe that as much as I do.”

My blood surged, and I let go of my restraint, pushing in as far as I could go, then pulling out only to do it again.

I froze when I heard her say, “Wait.”

My eyes widened, and fear that I’d hurt her clenched my chest. “What’s wrong?”

“The position we’re in…”

I pulled out. “God, I’m so sorry.”

Amusement coupled with desire danced in her eyes. “You won’t be,” she said, pushing me to my back before straddling me, then sinking herself down until I was deeper than I had been before.

With our eyes still riveted, she gradually increased her tempo, steadying herself with her hands on my chest while mine held her waist.

We came together in an explosion of ecstasy and love like none I’d ever dreamed of. No matter what happened with our families, we’d sealed our mutual fate tonight. As Lark said, everything between us was right. We were meant to be together, and we would be.

I hadn’t been certain about much in my life, living in a way where every day was a crap shoot of whether I lived or died.

Now, I knew, deep in my heart and soul, that with Lark in my life, the outcome of anything else ceased to matter. We’d face and take whatever came with our arms around each other, comforting and celebrating, until the day—years from now—I took my last breath.