Chapter 9 - The Pages Peter Tried to Fly Away With
Peter Caruso did not look like a man fleeing a country.
He looked like a grandfather delayed on the way to lunch.
When Vincent entered the private airport lounge, Peter was sitting calmly in a leather chair with a cup of coffee beside him.
Two police detectives stood near the door.
Marco had insisted on involving them before anyone touched the briefcase.
Grace’s rule was spreading.
Vincent did not know whether to resent that or admire it.
Peter looked up.
“You always did know how to make an entrance.”
Vincent remained standing.
“You were leaving.”
“I was traveling.”
“With thirty-year-old records.”
Peter smiled faintly.
“I enjoy reading on planes.”
Vincent sat across from him.
The briefcase rested on a table between them.
Detective Nora Blake from Philadelphia Major Crimes opened it with gloved hands.
Inside were forty-seven photocopied ledger pages.
Names.
Dates.
Amounts.
Initials.
Company accounts.
Payments marked with coded descriptions.
Vincent recognized his father’s handwriting immediately.
Peter watched him recognize it.
“Old history.”
Vincent looked up.
“Rebecca Miller is old history too?”
Peter’s face did not change.
“Ah.”
That single sound told Vincent enough.
“You know Grace is alive.”
Peter stirred his coffee.
“I knew Rebecca had a child.”
“Her name.”
“I learned it eventually.”
“When?”
Peter looked toward Detective Blake.
“Am I under arrest?”
“Not at this moment,” Blake said.
“Then I am not answering a fishing expedition.”
Vincent leaned forward.
“This is not a courtroom.”
“No.”
Peter’s eyes sharpened.
“That is exactly why I prefer the detective’s questions to yours.”
Vincent almost smiled.
Peter had helped raise him.
The old man knew where every dangerous edge was hidden.
Blake removed a page from the briefcase.
“Mr. Caruso, why were you taking these records to Switzerland?”
Peter looked at her.
“I own a residence there.”
“That was not my question.”
“I was relocating personal papers.”
“Why today?”
Peter shrugged.
Vincent watched him.
“You heard about Grace.”
Peter’s eyes moved toward him.
There.
A fraction of a second.
A reaction.
Vincent continued.
“You heard she was at Hawthorne.”
“You heard I saw her.”
“You knew the past was opening.”
Peter set down his coffee.
“The past is always open in this family.”
“Most of you just prefer not to look inside.”
Detective Blake slid one ledger page across the table.
“This entry interests me.”
Vincent looked down.
A payment of $75,000.
Recipient code: L.V.
Purpose: MILLER TRANSFER.
Date: August 18, 1997.
Two days after Rebecca disappeared.
Vincent’s chest tightened.
“Leonard Valesco.”
Peter said nothing.
Blake pointed at the next line.
$40,000.
Recipient code: A.C.
Purpose: CLEAN BOOKS.
Vincent stared.
“Anthony.”
Peter finally spoke.
“Initials are not proof.”
Vincent looked at him.
“You taught me that line when I was fourteen.”
Peter’s expression almost softened.
“You were paying attention.”
Blake turned another page.
There were dozens of payments to Northstar Municipal Consulting.
Then one entry made her pause.
REBECCA MILLER - BENEFICIAL OWNER.
Vincent stared at it.
“Beneficial owner of what?”
Blake followed the cross-reference.
“Three holding companies.”
Peter sighed.
“It was a tax structure.”
“It was fraud,” Blake replied.
“In the nineties, people had a more flexible vocabulary.”
Vincent’s eyes stayed on the records.
“How much is attached to her name?”
Blake calculated from the page references.
“On these sheets alone?”
She looked up.
“About twenty-three million.”
Vincent’s jaw tightened.
Peter leaned back.
“Money that no longer exists.”
Vincent looked at him.
“Does Grace know?”
“No.”
“Keep it that way.”
Vincent’s gaze sharpened.
“Why?”
Peter’s expression changed for the first time.
Not guilt.
Fear.
“Because Rebecca’s name is not only attached to money.”
Blake leaned forward.
“What else?”
Peter looked at her.
“You want my advice?”
“No.”
“Take it anyway.”
He pointed at the ledger.
“Do not assume the dead people in that book are the dangerous ones.”
Vincent’s voice was low.
“Who canceled Grace’s appointment?”
Peter stared at him.
“I did not.”
“Who paid Eric?”
“I did not.”
“Who told him to photograph her apartment?”
“I did not.”
“Who used the name Vale?”
Peter’s face went still.
That reaction was larger.
Blake noticed.
“So you know.”
Peter looked away.
Vincent leaned closer.
“Who is using Valesco’s name?”
Peter whispered.
“Someone who wants you looking at me.”
Vincent sat back.
“Convenient.”
“It is also true.”
Peter looked at the ledger pages.
“I was leaving because whoever reopened Northstar has access to records I thought were destroyed.”
“And that frightened you.”
“Yes.”
Vincent had almost never heard Peter admit fear.
“Why?”
“Because if they have Northstar, they may have the original ledger.”
Blake frowned.
“These are copies.”
“Yes.”
“Where is the original?”
Peter looked at Vincent.
“I gave it to Rebecca.”
The room went silent.
Vincent’s voice became quiet.
“You what?”
“Not all of it.”
“Do not play games with me.”
Peter rubbed a hand over his face.
“Your father ordered me to destroy the blue ledger after Rebecca discovered the warehouse meeting.”
“I did not.”
“Why?”
“Because the book was protection.”
“Against Father?”
“Against everyone.”
Peter continued.
“I made copies.”
“I removed several pages.”
“And when Rebecca came to me terrified about what Domenic intended to do, I gave her those pages.”
Teresa had described Peter as the man Rebecca feared.
Now Peter was describing himself as the man who helped her.
Vincent did not know which lie was worse.
“Rebecca said you found her sixteen years ago.”
Peter’s face changed.
“You heard the recording.”
“Yes.”
“Then you heard fear.”
“I did.”
“You assumed she feared me.”
“She said your name.”
Peter leaned forward.
“She feared that I had found her because she knew anyone watching me might find her too.”
Vincent stared at him.
Peter continued.
“I visited her once.”
“Why?”
“To warn her.”
“About what?”
“Anthony.”
Vincent’s expression hardened.
“Anthony claims he told her to run from you.”
Peter gave a tired smile.
“Of course he does.”
“Which one of you is lying?”
Peter met his gaze.
“Both of us.”
Vincent said nothing.
Peter continued.
“The question is about which part.”
Detective Blake looked between them.
“This family is exhausting.”
Neither man disagreed.
Peter pointed at a ledger notation.
“Look at the date.”
Blake did.
March 4, 2010.
Grace would have been twelve.
Next to it was a payment from Northstar to a private investigative firm.
Purpose: R.M. LOCATE.
Recipient authorization: A.C.
Anthony Caruso.
Vincent’s eyes went cold.
“He hired someone to find Rebecca.”
Peter nodded.
“Then three days after Rebecca called him, she died.”
“Car accident,” Blake said.
Vincent looked at her sharply.
“You checked?”
“I had someone pull the report after you contacted us.”
“What does it say?”
“Single vehicle.”
“Rain.”
“Brake failure suspected but never proven.”
Vincent felt something inside him turn to ice.
Peter looked down.
“She told me she thought Anthony had found her.”
Vincent stared at him.
“The recording says Peter.”
“Yes.”
“And you expect me to believe she meant something else.”
Peter’s eyes lifted.
“I expect you to stop trusting recordings you have not authenticated.”
Detective Blake looked at him.
“What are you suggesting?”
“That audio can be cut.”
Anthony’s recorder had been old.
Digital.
Editable.
Vincent’s mind raced backward through the pauses.
The abrupt ending.
The missing context.
Peter continued.
“Have a forensic lab inspect the file.”
“If I am lying, arrest me.”
Blake nodded toward one of the officers.
“We will.”
Vincent’s phone vibrated.
A message from Grace.
DID YOU FIND HIM?
Vincent typed back.
YES.
Another message arrived.
DID YOU HURT HIM?
Vincent looked at Peter.
The old man raised an eyebrow.
Vincent typed.
NO.
Grace replied almost immediately.
GOOD.
Vincent stared at that one word longer than he should have.
Blake’s phone rang.
She answered.
“Blake.”
Her expression changed.
“When?”
She looked at Vincent.
“Send it to me.”
She ended the call.
“What?” Vincent asked.
“The hospital pulled additional security footage from the morning Grace’s appointment was canceled.”
Peter became very still.
Blake opened the video on her phone.
The camera showed the reception desk at 8:11 a.m.
Patricia picked up the phone.
Listened.
Typed.
Canceled Grace’s appointment.
Then something happened thirty seconds later.
A man entered the lobby from a side corridor.
He wore scrubs and a surgical mask.
He walked behind the reception station as if he belonged there.
For one second, he turned toward the camera.
His mask slipped beneath his nose.
Vincent recognized him.
So did Peter.
Peter stood up so abruptly that his coffee spilled.
“No.”
Vincent stared at the screen.
The man in the footage was someone Grace had never met.
Someone Vincent had trusted for twenty-two years.
His own attorney and personal counsel.
Daniel Shaw.
May you like
And Daniel Shaw was Anthony Caruso’s brother-in-law.
