Chapter 2 - Ghosts in the Alley
The rain turned heavy over Manhattan, washing grease and city grime into the storm drains of the alley outside the restaurant. Landon stood beneath a narrow metal awning, his hand gripping the black casing of his phone so tightly his knuckles turned white.
"She doesn't exist, boss," the investigator's voice rasped through the speaker. "The Social Security number for Sara Miller belongs to a woman who died in Columbus, Ohio, twelve years ago. The apartment address listed on her restaurant tax forms is an empty storefront in Queens."
Landon stared at the slick asphalt where her cheap black shoes had left faint wet prints moments ago. "What about her face?"
"No hits on facial recognition in local or state databases. Whoever she is, she scrubbed herself completely clean. No driver's license, no credit cards, no digital trail."
Landon ended the call and slipped the phone into his jacket pocket. The chill of the autumn rain seeped through his bespoke wool coat, but he barely felt it. His mind was locked on a small kitchen in a private estate three years ago.
Santino had been sitting by a window, holding a newborn Leo against his shoulder, softly humming those exact lines in a low, rough voice. Le stelle vegliano mentre il sole dorme. Santino had looked up at Landon that night and laughed. “Don’t tell anyone I’m singing to him, Landon. The boys in the family think I only speak in threats.”
Santino had died eighteen months later when his car went over a guardrail off Highway 9. The police had called it a brake failure. Landon had spent every waking hour since knowing it was murder, yet finding zero evidence to prove who cut the lines.
Now, a ghost with gray-blue eyes and a fake name had sung Santino’s private words to Santino’s son.
"Boss," Dominic said, stepping out from the rear service door into the alley. He held an umbrella overhead, but Landon ignored it. "Leo is in the back of the SUV with Marco. He's crying. He keeps asking for 'the star lady'."
Landon turned his gaze down the long, dark alleyway. "She vanished on foot in three minutes. A professional doesn't panic and run into the street. She had a secondary route."
Dominic shifted his weight, his sharp eyes scanning the brick walls. "You think she was placed in the restaurant to target the boy?"
"If she wanted to hurt Leo, she had seven minutes alone with him behind that curtain," Landon noted, his voice dropping into the icy tone that made grown men tremble in boardrooms and back rooms alike. "She didn't take him. She calmed him down. She looked at him like..." He hesitated, the memory of her breaking expression flashing in his mind. "Like she had already buried a piece of herself."
"What are your orders?" Dominic asked.
"Call Paulie. Tell him to pull every traffic camera within ten blocks of this block between 8:00 PM and 8:30 PM. Look for anyone walking fast, changing clothes in a doorway, or getting into a unmarked vehicle." Landon took a slow, deliberate breath. "And bring the manager of this restaurant to my office in fifteen minutes."
"The manager doesn't know anything, Landon," Dominic warned gently. "He's just a guy running an Italian eatery."
"Then he will learn how quickly a quiet life can turn very loud," Landon said smoothly, stepping past Dominic toward the black SUV waiting at the end of the block.
Inside the vehicle, four-year-old Leo sat strapped into his leather child seat, clutching a small plastic toy car. Tears had left dark streaks on his cheeks, and his small chest hitched with quiet, ragged breaths.
Landon climbed into the seat opposite his nephew. The heavy armored door slammed shut, sealing out the noise of the city.
Landon reached out, resting his large hand over Leo’s tiny knee. "Hey, little man."
Leo looked up, his pale blue eyes wide and rimmed with red. "Where did she go, Uncle Landon?"
"She had to leave, Leo."
"She knows Papa," the boy whispered, his small fingers digging into the plastic car. "Papa told her the star song."
Landon felt a sudden, sharp ache in his chest—a feeling he had thought he buried alongside his brother’s casket. "Did she tell you her name, Leo? Her real name?"
Leo shook his head slowly. "She told me a secret."
Landon went completely still. "What secret?"
Leo leaned forward as far as his car seat straps allowed, lowering his voice into a solemn whisper just like his father used to do when playing games. "She said... 'Tell your uncle the clock in the library is still five minutes fast.'"
Landon felt the air leave his lungs in a sharp gasp.
The grandfather clock in the library of the Moretti estate in Upstate New York had been five minutes fast for ten years. Santino had refused to fix it because their father had set it that way before he died. Only four people in the world knew about that clock: Landon, Santino, Santino’s late wife who passed during childbirth, and Santino's most trusted personal legal advisor—a young woman who had disappeared three days after Santino’s fatal car accident.
Her name was Clara Vance.
Landon leaned back against the leather headrest, his heart hammering against his ribs like a trapped bird.
"Dominic," Landon commanded, his voice steady despite the storm raging inside him.
"Yes, boss?" Dominic answered from the front passenger seat.
"Cancel the sweep of the traffic cameras."
May you like
Dominic turned around, surprised. "Why?"
Landon looked out the tinted window as the rain lashed against the glass. "Because she didn't run away to hide from me. She ran to draw someone else away from us."
