Chapter 6 - The Empty House in Maine.
By noon, Isabella was on a private flight to Maine with a man she had learned was her uncle less than twelve hours earlier.
She still had not decided whether that fact was absurd, frightening, or both.
Vincent sat across the narrow cabin reviewing documents on a tablet.
Dominic occupied the seat beside him with a folder open across his knees.
No one spoke for the first twenty minutes.
Isabella watched the city disappear beneath clouds and tried to understand how quickly ordinary life could fall away.
Her old apartment was still waiting for her in Queens.
A half-finished grocery list was still magnetized to her refrigerator.
Her work shoes were probably still beside the front door.
Yet somewhere in Maine, an old mechanic might know whether the father she had mourned since childhood had survived long enough to wonder about her.
"Tell me everything you found on Elias Vale," she said.
Dominic looked up.
"Seventy-four years old."
"Born in Massachusetts."
"Served in the Coast Guard after high school."
"Worked commercial marine repair in Portland and later Camden."
"No criminal record."
"Widower."
"No children."
"And he knew Marco how?"
"That part isn't public."
Vincent looked away from the tablet.
"Carlo had his name in the safe."
"Which means Carlo knew Marco trusted him."
Isabella turned toward the window.
"Or Carlo knew where to find Marco through him."
"Yes."
Dominic closed the folder.
"The missing-person notice is strange."
"Why?"
"It was filed by a neighbor at seven this morning."
"Vale's truck is still at his house."
"His wallet and medication are apparently missing."
"So he packed."
"Maybe."
Isabella looked at him.
"You and Vincent should have that word embroidered on jackets."
Dominic smiled despite himself.
"I deserved that."
Their vehicle reached Camden shortly after two.
The town looked almost too peaceful for the story chasing them.
Snow clung to rooftops.
Fishing boats rocked gently in the harbor.
Shop windows displayed winter sweaters and handmade pottery.
Elias Vale's house stood on a narrow road overlooking the water.
A county deputy was already there.
Dominic spoke with him while Isabella and Vincent waited near the gate.
The deputy eventually allowed them inside after confirming they were connected to the family name found in Vale's records.
The house was small and orderly.
A wool blanket lay folded over the back of a sofa.
A coffee cup sat washed upside down beside the sink.
Nothing suggested a sudden struggle.
Isabella walked slowly through the living room.
"He left on purpose."
Vincent looked at her.
"Why?"
She pointed to the fireplace.
A thin layer of ash lay beneath the grate.
"He burned something recently."
Dominic crouched beside it.
He used a pen to separate a half-burned corner of paper from the ash.
Only three words remained readable.
ST. DENIS ROAD.
Isabella's pulse quickened.
"The Montreal address."
Vincent nodded.
Dominic found another fragment.
The letters M.R. were visible near the edge.
"He knew we were coming," Isabella said.
"Or someone else knew," Vincent replied.
A floorboard creaked behind them.
The deputy entered with a small metal key.
"Found this taped under the mailbox."
Dominic examined it.
A piece of masking tape was wrapped around the head.
RIZZO was written across it.
Dominic stared at his own name.
"He left this for me."
The key opened a detached shed behind the house.
Inside were fishing rods, engine parts, and tools arranged on pegboard.
A second door led downhill toward the harbor.
On the workbench was an envelope.
DOMINIC was written across the front.
He opened it carefully.
Inside was a handwritten note.
IF YOU ARE READING THIS, CARLO FOUND OUT ABOUT THE FILE.
I'M NOT MISSING.
I'M FINISHING SOMETHING I SHOULD HAVE FINISHED YEARS AGO.
DON'T TRUST THE FIRST ADDRESS.
FOLLOW THE BLUE BUOY.
Isabella looked through the window toward the harbor.
Several buoys floated beyond the docks.
Most were red or white.
One was painted dark blue.
"There," she said.
They followed a narrow path toward the water.
The blue buoy was not floating offshore.
It had been mounted beside an old boathouse at the end of a private pier.
The padlock on the boathouse door matched the key Elias had left.
Dominic opened it.
The building smelled of salt, rope, and old fuel.
A wooden fishing boat rested inside.
Someone was sitting in the stern.
Vincent moved in front of Isabella automatically.
"Easy," a voice said.
An elderly man stood slowly.
He had a white beard, weathered hands, and a navy watch cap pulled low over his forehead.
"If I wanted trouble, I wouldn't have left Dominic a key."
Dominic stared at him.
"Elias Vale?"
"Last time I checked."
Isabella stepped around Vincent.
"Why did your neighbor report you missing?"
Elias sighed.
"Because I asked him to."
"Why?"
"Because men who watch official channels believe missing-person reports before they believe old mechanics."
Vincent's eyes narrowed.
"Who is watching?"
Elias looked at Isabella.
"The same people who watched your mother."
Isabella's breath caught.
"You knew Teresa?"
"Not well."
"But you knew Marco."
Elias removed his cap.
"Marco saved my business."
"When?"
"Two thousand one."
"He was alive then."
"Very much so."
Isabella gripped the edge of a workbench.
Every new confirmation hurt and healed at the same time.
"Carlo says he saw him in 2003."
Elias gave a bitter laugh.
"Carlo saw a lot of people he later claimed not to know."
Vincent stepped forward.
"Tell us what happened."
Elias sat on an overturned crate.
"Marco came to Maine under the name Michael Rowan."
"He had a box of copied financial records and a badly damaged belief in other people."
"He said a friend had arranged for him to disappear after he realized Carlo's men were following him."
Isabella's throat tightened.
"Did he think my mother was dead?"
Elias nodded.
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"Until 2003."
"What happened then?"
"Carlo found him."
Vincent folded his arms.
"And didn't expose him."
"No."
"Why?"
Elias looked toward the harbor.
"Because Marco still had records Carlo wanted."
"Carlo offered him a deal."
"Give up the copies and get proof Teresa was alive."
Isabella's stomach twisted.
"Did he?"
"Marco gave him part of what he had."
"Carlo showed him a photograph of Teresa in New Mexico."
"She was standing outside a grocery store."
"She was pregnant."
Isabella closed her eyes.
That photograph had probably been taken while Teresa carried her.
"Did Carlo tell him about me?"
Elias hesitated.
"He told Marco Teresa had started another family."
Isabella opened her eyes.
"Another family."
"Marco believed the child wasn't his."
Anger hit Isabella so suddenly she had to sit down.
"Carlo lied to both of them."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Elias looked at Vincent.
"Because Marco and Teresa together knew where the full records were."
"Separated, each one only had half the map."
Vincent's gaze sharpened.
"What map?"
Elias reached into the boat and lifted a small waterproof case.
"Marco left this with me in 2010."
Isabella stared at it.
"Why didn't you give it to anyone?"
"He told me to wait until Teresa contacted me."
"She never did."
"Then he told me if a Moretti ever came asking about him, I was to decide whether they were looking for truth or control."
Elias looked at Vincent.
"I wasn't sure which kind you were."
Vincent's face remained neutral.
"And now?"
"Still deciding."
He handed the case to Isabella instead.
Inside was a compact cassette tape sealed in plastic and a folded photograph.
The photograph showed Marco standing beside Elias near a fishing boat.
The date printed in the corner was AUG 2009.
Isabella touched Marco's face.
He looked older than the employee picture.
His hair was graying at the temples.
He was alive eleven years after his supposed death.
"Is he alive now?"
Elias looked away.
"I don't know."
Isabella's shoulders fell.
Elias lifted a hand.
"But I know he was alive in 2016."
She looked up so fast her neck hurt.
"2016?"
"He sent me a Christmas card."
"From where?"
"No return address."
"What did it say?"
Elias smiled sadly.
"Still waiting for spring."
Isabella did not understand.
Vincent did.
"Teresa's middle name meant spring to Marco?"
Elias looked at him with surprise.
"Primavera."
Isabella shook her head.
"Her middle name was Maria."
"Publicly."
Elias looked at her.
"Marco called her Primavera because they met in April."
Isabella felt tears gather again.
Her parents had carried private language into separate lives.
Even their lies had not erased everything.
Dominic found an old cassette player on a shelf.
Elias connected it to an extension cord.
"You should hear this before you decide what to do next."
Isabella slid the tape into the player.
The machine clicked.
Static filled the boathouse.
Then a man's voice emerged.
Older.
Tired.
Steady.
"My name is Marco Romano."
Isabella covered her mouth.
She had never heard her father's voice.
"If Isabella is hearing this, then Teresa kept the one promise that mattered."
Isabella looked at Vincent.
The tape continued.
"The locket is not evidence by itself."
"It is the first half of a key."
Vincent leaned closer.
"The second half belongs to the boy Teresa called Vinny."
Vincent went completely still.
"His music box," Isabella whispered.
Marco's voice continued through the static.
"Put the two pieces together and Box 317 can be opened without any bank clerk deciding who deserves the truth."
Isabella stared at Vincent.
"You said your music box was thrown away."
Vincent's face had changed.
"That's what I was told."
The tape clicked off.
Elias looked toward Isabella.
"Your mother knew where it was."
"How do you know?"
"Because Marco mailed it to her in New Mexico."
Isabella stood so quickly the chair scraped the floor.
"My mother had a music box exactly like the one in her room."
Vincent stared at her.
"You said that last night."
"It's in storage."
"Where?"
"Las Cruces."
Dominic checked his watch.
"That's not a short drive."
Isabella looked at Vincent.
"Then we fly."
Elias raised one hand.
"Before you go, there is one more thing."
He removed a sealed envelope from the waterproof case.
Teresa's name was written on it in Marco's handwriting.
The envelope had never been opened.
"Marco asked me to send this if I ever found her."
Isabella held it carefully.
"Why didn't you?"
"I tried."
Elias walked to a cabinet and removed three returned envelopes.
Each was addressed to Teresa Romano in Las Cruces.
Each bore a postal mark from a different year.
Each had been stamped UNDELIVERABLE.
Isabella stared at the addresses.
They were correct.
"She lived there the whole time."
Elias nodded.
"I know."
Vincent looked at the return stamps.
"Someone interfered with the mail."
Elias nodded again.
"That's what Marco believed."
Isabella opened the newest returned envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of a handwritten letter from 2011.
The first sentence broke her heart.
May you like
TERESA, I HAVE BEEN TRYING TO COME HOME TO YOU FOR THIRTEEN YEARS.
THE LOCKET OF BELLADONNA HOUSE
