Chapter 7 - The Boy Behind the Locked Door
# Chapter 7 - The Boy Behind the Locked Door
The photograph showed two boys with nearly identical faces, but Dominic Moretti noticed something more disturbing than their resemblance.
One of them was wearing his father's watch.
Not on his wrist.
Around his neck.
A dark blue leather strap hung loosely beneath the boy's gray hospital shirt, and attached to it was a silver watch Dominic recognized immediately.
The vintage Patek Philippe that had disappeared after Vittorio Moretti's funeral.
Dominic enlarged the photograph on his phone.
Gabriel stood on the left, thin and pale, with his hands clasped together. Beside him stood another dark-haired boy whose face resembled Matteo's so closely that Dominic initially wondered whether the image had been manipulated.
But the second boy had a small birthmark beneath his right ear.
Matteo didn't.
And hanging against the child's chest was the watch.
Dominic stared at it.
His father had worn that watch almost every day for thirty years.
Peter Voss had appeared to be wearing it in the restaurant surveillance footage.
Now it was around a child's neck inside Bellwether.
Someone was passing that object from person to person.
Like a message.
Or a warning.
"Dominic?"
Elena stood beside him, staring at the photograph.
"Is that really another boy?"
"I don't know."
"He looks like Matteo."
"I know."
"No." Her voice trembled. "You don't understand. Look at his left eyebrow."
Dominic enlarged the image.
A faint notch interrupted the boy's eyebrow.
Elena pressed her fingers against her mouth.
"When I was pregnant, they showed me ultrasound images. One of the babies had his hand pressed against his face. The doctor joked that he was already camera-shy."
Dominic looked at her.
"Elena, an ultrasound can't establish that this is the same child."
"I know."
She began crying.
"I know that. But I keep looking at him and wondering whether he's mine."
Dominic set the phone down.
He had spent years acquiring buildings, negotiating contracts, and dismantling threats before they reached his family.
Now he couldn't even establish how many children had been born into that family.
Five infants had been documented at Elena's delivery.
Yet the photograph suggested another child had been living under an identity connected to Baby D.
Gabriel.
Matteo.
Jonathan.
And an unnamed boy wearing Vittorio's watch.
The count no longer made sense.
Which meant someone was still lying.
At 9:14 p.m., Adrian Cole arrived at Seabrook with a forensic image analyst.
Her name was Rebecca Lin, and she had spent eleven years examining digital evidence for criminal investigations.
Dominic placed the photograph before her.
"I need to know whether it's genuine."
Rebecca studied it without speaking.
She enlarged the faces, examined compression artifacts, and compared the lighting around the two children.
After several minutes, she leaned back.
"I can't authenticate the original photograph from a compressed messaging attachment."
Dominic frowned.
"Can you tell whether it's manipulated?"
"I haven't identified obvious compositing artifacts, but that doesn't prove it hasn't been altered."
"Could the second boy be Matteo?"
"Possibly. Could be another child who resembles him. I would need the original file, additional photographs, and verified reference images."
Dominic nodded.
He didn't like uncertainty.
But he was beginning to understand that accepting false certainty had allowed Richard to control this situation for six years.
Rebecca pointed toward the watch.
"This detail interests me."
"Why?"
"The strap casts a consistent shadow against the shirt. If it was inserted digitally, the alteration is sophisticated."
Dominic folded his arms.
"Can you estimate when it was taken?"
"Not reliably from this copy."
She enlarged the background.
A dark green door stood behind the boys.
Above it was a small metal plate.
Most of the lettering was obscured.
But two characters remained visible.
05
Adrian leaned forward.
"Unit Five."
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
The archived medical building in Brookline.
The same location connected to the silver key Peter Voss had given Luca.
Elena looked between them.
"Then that's where the boys are?"
"Maybe," Adrian said. "Or someone wants us to think so."
Dominic stared at the image.
The two children stood close together.
Gabriel's fingers appeared to be touching the other boy's hand.
Not accidentally.
As though he were trying to reassure him.
Whatever the photograph's origin, Dominic couldn't ignore what it suggested.
Somewhere, a frightened child might be waiting behind a locked door.
And his family had less than forty-eight hours before someone moved him.
At 10:06 p.m., Dominic found Elena in the boys' bedroom.
All four children were asleep.
Leo had kicked off his blanket.
Nico was curled into a tight ball.
Luca slept with one arm around his dinosaur.
And Matteo lay between two pillows, his dark hair covering his forehead.
Elena sat beside him.
"Can I ask you something?" Dominic whispered.
She nodded.
"Did Matteo ever need medical treatment outside Boston?"
"No."
"Hospital admissions?"
"Only once. A severe respiratory infection when he was three."
"Where?"
"Children's hospital in Providence. I kept all the discharge paperwork."
Dominic crouched beside her.
"Did anyone approach you during that admission?"
Elena thought carefully.
"Doctors. Nurses. A social worker."
"Anyone unusual?"
She hesitated.
"There was a woman."
Dominic became still.
"What woman?"
"She said she represented a charitable foundation that assisted families with premature children."
"Bellwether?"
"I don't remember the name."
"What did she want?"
"She offered financial assistance and asked whether the boys had developmental problems."
Elena looked down at Matteo.
"I told her we were managing."
"Did she ask specifically about Matteo?"
A pause.
"Yes."
Dominic felt cold.
"What did she ask?"
"Whether he'd ever needed oxygen support after birth. Whether he had seizures. Whether he'd been evaluated for genetic disorders."
"Did she examine him?"
"No."
"Did you give her any records?"
Elena shook her head.
"She left a business card. I threw it away."
Dominic looked toward the sleeping child.
Someone had monitored Matteo's medical history.
Someone who might have known that his hospital identification was questionable.
And someone who apparently had enough access to find Elena even after she moved away from Boston.
"Why didn't you mention this before?" he asked.
Elena's expression hardened.
"Because until two days ago, it was just a strange conversation with a woman at a hospital."
Dominic looked down.
"You're right."
She watched him.
"You keep doing that."
"What?"
"Apologizing."
He gave a tired smile.
"I'm getting practice."
For a moment, she almost smiled back.
Then Matteo stirred.
"Mommy?"
"I'm here."
The boy opened one eye.
"Is Dad here too?"
Dominic leaned closer.
"Right here."
Matteo looked at him sleepily.
"Can you stay until I fall asleep?"
Dominic's throat tightened.
"Of course."
He sat on the floor beside the bed.
Matteo reached down and placed a small hand against his shoulder.
Within minutes, he was sleeping again.
Dominic remained there long after the boy's breathing became steady.
Elena watched him.
And for the first time, she allowed herself to imagine that perhaps their family could survive what was coming.
At 11:38 p.m., Adrian called.
"I found something about the Brookline building."
Dominic stepped into the hallway.
"Tell me."
"The property is listed as inactive, but utilities are still being used."
"How much?"
"Enough to suggest regular activity. Electricity, water, and a dedicated network connection."
"Security?"
"Private contractor. The same company that once provided services to Bellwether's main pediatric residence."
Dominic frowned.
"Who owns the security company?"
Adrian paused.
"That's the interesting part."
"What?"
"It was acquired eighteen months ago."
"By whom?"
"A holding company connected to Charles Barrett."
Dominic closed his eyes.
Another connection.
Charles.
Richard.
Bellwether.
The former hospital.
And a building supposedly abandoned but still receiving power and security services.
"Can we get inside legally?" Dominic asked.
"Possibly. The emergency preservation petition is being prepared. Our attorneys are also contacting the appropriate authorities with the evidence of potential child endangerment."
"How soon?"
"I can't guarantee a timeline."
Dominic looked toward the bedrooms.
"We don't have much time."
"I know."
Adrian hesitated.
"Dominic, there's another problem."
"What?"
"Someone submitted a demolition application for part of the property."
Dominic went still.
"When?"
"Yesterday."
"Who signed it?"
"An executive at the property management company."
"Name?"
"Charles Barrett."
Dominic stared into the darkness.
The archival building was scheduled for demolition work.
Someone intended to destroy something inside.
And now Peter Voss had given Luca a key to Unit Five.
The timing wasn't accidental.
"Can the work be stopped?"
"We're trying. The application doesn't authorize immediate demolition, but the site has a contractor scheduled to begin preliminary clearance tomorrow."
Dominic's expression hardened.
"Get the lawyers moving. Preserve every record."
"Understood."
At 6:17 the following morning, Sloane Barrett entered her father's private office.
She had not slept.
The memory of Gabriel's frightened face haunted her.
So did the name Jonathan.
For six years, she had believed her baby died shortly after birth.
For three of those years, she had suspected the official story might be false.
But she had never understood why her father refused to discuss the hospital.
Now she was beginning to suspect that the lie surrounding Dominic's children had been designed to conceal another crime.
Her own son's disappearance.
Charles Barrett's office occupied the upper floor of a historic townhouse overlooking the Charles River.
Everything inside was orderly.
Leather chairs.
Dark mahogany furniture.
Photographs of influential families.
Awards from charitable organizations.
A framed photograph of Sloane standing beside her father at a fundraising gala.
She stared at that photograph for a moment.
Then opened the locked cabinet behind his desk.
She knew where he kept the spare key.
He had never bothered to change the hiding place.
Inside were folders containing trust documents and private correspondence.
She searched for Jonathan's name.
Nothing.
Then she found a folder marked:
MATERNAL GUARDIANSHIP — RESTRICTED
Her hands began trembling.
Inside was a photograph.
A newborn baby wrapped in a pale blue blanket.
A small white hospital bracelet encircled his wrist.
The label read:
JONATHAN BARRETT-MERCER
Sloane pressed the photograph against her chest.
"My baby."
For six years, she had no photograph of her son.
Her father had claimed all the records were lost after the emergency delivery.
Now here he was.
Tiny.
Alive.
Looking directly toward the camera.
She turned the photograph over.
A handwritten date appeared.
October 18.
Four days after his supposed death.
Sloane stopped breathing.
Jonathan had been alive four days later.
Her father had lied.
She opened the next document.
It was a transfer authorization.
The receiving institution wasn't Bellwether.
It was a private residential facility in Vermont.
The guardian's name had been redacted.
But beneath the redaction was a notation.
TRANSFER COMPLETED — SUBJECT J.B.
Sloane grabbed her phone.
She began photographing the pages.
Then she heard footsteps outside the office.
Her father's voice.
"Sloane?"
She froze.
The office door opened.
Charles Barrett stood in the doorway.
He wore a charcoal suit and carried a cup of coffee.
For a moment, father and daughter stared at each other.
Then his gaze moved to the open cabinet.
The photographs.
The folder.
His expression changed.
"What have you done?"
Sloane slowly stood.
"Where is Jonathan?"
Charles said nothing.
She held up the photograph.
"Where is my son?"
He closed the door behind him.
Then, with chilling calm, he said, "You were never supposed to find that."
At 7:03 a.m., Dominic received a call from an unknown number.
He answered immediately.
"Hello?"
A male voice spoke.
"Mr. Moretti."
Dominic recognized the controlled tone.
Peter Voss.
"Where are you?"
"That isn't important."
"You threatened my son."
"I warned him."
"You put a six-year-old in the middle of this."
Peter was silent.
Dominic continued.
"Your credentials were used to disable the camera before someone tried to take Matteo."
"I didn't authorize that."
"Then someone used your access."
A pause.
"Possibly."
"Who?"
"I don't know."
Dominic almost laughed.
Everyone knew part of the truth.
Nobody knew enough.
"Why did you give Luca the key?"
"Because adults have been lying to you for six years."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"The key opens the last cabinet in Unit Five."
Dominic became still.
"What's inside?"
"The original records."
"Of the babies?"
"Yes."
"All of them?"
Another pause.
"More than you realize."
Dominic looked toward the study.
"Why not bring the records to me?"
"Because I couldn't remove them without triggering an alarm."
"Then how did you get the key?"
"Vittorio gave it to me."
Dominic froze.
"When?"
"Before he died."
"Why?"
Peter exhaled.
"Your father wanted the truth preserved."
Dominic felt his anger rise.
"My father threatened Elena. He helped separate my children. Don't pretend he was innocent."
"I didn't say he was."
"Then what are you saying?"
"That he tried to undo something after it was too late."
Dominic stared at the wall.
"What something?"
Peter hesitated.
"The wrong infant was taken from the nursery."
"Baby D."
"Yes."
"And replaced?"
A long silence followed.
"That's what the records suggest."
"With Jonathan Barrett-Mercer?"
"I won't confirm a child's identity over the phone based on files I haven't personally verified."
Dominic's frustration sharpened.
"Then tell me who ordered the exchange."
Peter's voice lowered.
"Charles Barrett approved the operation."
"Richard?"
"Richard carried it out."
"And my father?"
Peter paused.
"Vittorio signed the agreement that allowed them to begin."
Dominic closed his eyes.
The guilt he'd been trying to separate from his father's memory returned.
"What happened to the original Baby D?"
Peter didn't answer.
"Where is he?"
Another silence.
Then Peter whispered, "Behind the door."
Dominic became still.
"What door?"
"Unit Five."
"Is he there now?"
"I don't know. I took the photograph recently, but they may have moved him."
Dominic looked toward the window.
"Why are you helping me?"
Peter gave a quiet, humorless laugh.
"Because I helped them take him."
The confession landed heavily.
Dominic said nothing.
Peter continued.
"And because your father made me promise something before he died."
"What?"
"That if the children ever came looking for the truth, I wouldn't let Richard bury it with him."
Dominic felt his throat tighten.
"Then tell me everything."
"I can't. Not on this line."
"Meet me."
"At Unit Five. But don't come alone, and don't come without the authorities."
Dominic frowned.
"Why?"
Peter's voice became urgent.
"Because they know the archive has been compromised."
"Who?"
Before Peter could answer, a sharp sound cracked through the connection.
He gasped.
Dominic stood abruptly.
"Peter?"
A scuffling noise.
Then Peter's strained voice.
"Don't trust the doctor."
Dominic went cold.
"Evelyn?"
Peter coughed.
"Not Hart."
"Then who?"
A second sharp crack sounded.
The line went dead.
At 7:26 a.m., Dominic called Adrian.
"Peter Voss may have been attacked."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
"Did he give you a location?"
"Unit Five."
Adrian was silent for a moment.
Then he said, "Our attorney just obtained an emergency preservation order for the records at the Brookline building. Authorities have been notified of the potential child-safety concerns."
Dominic straightened.
"Good."
"But there's something unusual."
"What?"
"The property manager claims no one has accessed Unit Five in years."
Dominic looked at the photograph of the two boys.
"He's lying."
"Possibly. We're working with authorities to establish current occupancy."
Dominic grabbed his jacket.
"I'm going."
"Dominic—"
"I'm not entering without authorization. But I'm not staying at Seabrook while somebody destroys the only evidence that could identify my children."
Adrian sighed.
"I'll meet you there."
At 8:11 a.m., Elena confronted Evelyn in the study.
"Peter Voss says you weren't the doctor we shouldn't trust."
Evelyn looked startled.
"What?"
"He told Dominic not to trust a doctor."
Evelyn stared at her.
"Which doctor?"
"We don't know."
Her expression darkened.
"Samuel Whitmore."
Elena felt cold.
"The neurologist?"
Evelyn nodded.
"Whitmore supervised Gabriel's treatment."
"What has he done?"
"I don't know everything. But I found inconsistencies in medication authorizations and neurological assessments."
"Could Gabriel have been given medication he didn't need?"
"It's possible, but I cannot establish that without the treatment records."
Elena's hands tightened.
"Why would anyone do that?"
Evelyn looked away.
"To make a child appear medically dependent."
The silence between them changed.
Elena thought about Gabriel's wheelchair.
The photograph of him standing two years earlier.
The reports of his fatigue.
And the frightened expression on his face.
"Are you saying someone deliberately made him sick?"
"I'm saying his care needs independent review."
Elena began shaking.
For six years, her child had been hidden behind medical walls.
Now there was a possibility that the walls had been justified by a condition someone had exaggerated or caused.
She looked at Evelyn.
"If he has been harmed, I want every person responsible held accountable."
Evelyn nodded.
"So do I."
At 8:47 a.m., Dominic arrived outside the former Bellwether research center in Brookline.
The building stood behind an iron fence on a quiet residential street.
Its red brick facade was weathered.
Several windows were boarded.
A faded sign near the entrance identified it as a former pediatric development center.
Police vehicles and an authorized inspection team were already present.
Adrian approached Dominic.
"The preservation order covers the archive. We're waiting for the building representative to provide access."
Dominic looked toward the upper windows.
"Any signs of children?"
"None."
"Security cameras?"
"Still operational."
Dominic's eyes narrowed.
"An abandoned building with active cameras."
Adrian nodded.
"And a restricted basement."
A uniformed officer approached.
"Mr. Moretti?"
"Yes."
"I'm Detective Sarah Mitchell. I understand you believe this facility may contain evidence related to missing children."
Dominic handed her the photograph.
"Two boys were photographed here recently. One is believed to be my son."
She examined the image.
"How did you obtain this?"
"From a former employee associated with the facility."
"Can we speak to him?"
"We're trying to locate him."
Detective Mitchell studied Dominic.
"Mr. Moretti, I need you to understand that we can't treat every document you've received as authentic without verification."
"I understand."
She looked slightly surprised.
Dominic continued.
"But someone attempted to take a child from my home. I have evidence of falsified medical records, and another child may be at risk. I'm asking you to investigate."
Mitchell nodded.
"That's what we're here to do."
At 9:13 a.m., the inspection team entered Unit Five.
Dominic and Adrian were permitted to observe from a designated area while investigators documented the scene.
The basement smelled of dust and old paper.
A corridor led toward a reinforced steel door.
Above it was a tarnished metal plate.
UNIT 05
Dominic felt his pulse quicken.
Detective Mitchell examined the lock.
"We have authorization to access the archive."
A technician tried the facility's current key.
It didn't work.
Dominic slowly removed the silver key Peter Voss had given Luca.
"Try this."
Mitchell looked at it.
"Where did you get it?"
Dominic explained.
She photographed and documented the key before allowing the technician to use it.
The lock turned.
A heavy mechanism clicked.
The door opened.
Inside was a narrow room lined with metal filing cabinets.
Old medical equipment stood beneath dust-covered sheets.
A desk occupied the far wall.
And beside it was a small wooden chair.
A child's chair.
Dominic stopped.
On the chair sat a stuffed rabbit.
Pale blue.
One ear bent.
The same rabbit Gabriel held in the photograph Evelyn had shown Elena.
"Detective."
Mitchell followed his gaze.
"Don't touch anything."
Dominic nodded.
A technician photographed the chair and the toy.
Then another investigator called from the rear of the room.
"Detective, we have something."
Dominic turned.
A second door stood behind the filing cabinets.
It was reinforced.
Locked.
And marked with a small silver bell.
The Bellwether emblem.
Mitchell approached.
"Open it."
The technician examined the lock.
Then glanced toward Dominic's key.
"Same manufacturer."
He tried the key.
The mechanism turned.
The door swung inward.
And Dominic heard something.
A faint sound.
Music.
A child's voice humming.
The old Italian lullaby Elena used to sing.
Dominic went rigid.
"Gabriel?"
No answer.
He took a step forward.
Detective Mitchell raised her hand.
"Stay behind me."
She entered first.
The room beyond was small but clean.
A bed stood against the wall.
There were children's books on a shelf.
A telescope rested beside the window.
And on the floor lay several drawings.
One depicted a woman with brown hair.
Four little boys.
And another child standing behind a fence.
Dominic looked at the drawing.
His chest tightened.
Gabriel had drawn the family he had never been allowed to know.
But the room was empty.
The humming stopped.
An investigator checked the adjoining bathroom.
No one.
Then Detective Mitchell noticed a small recording device beneath the bed.
She picked it up carefully.
The humming began again.
It wasn't a child singing nearby.
It was a recording.
Someone had left it playing.
Dominic stared at the empty room.
A trap.
Or another message.
On the bedside table lay a sealed envelope.
His name was written across the front.
DOMINIC MORETTI
Mitchell photographed it before opening it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
Typed.
You found the room. Now find the child they kept here.
Beneath the message was a photograph of a boy.
Not Gabriel.
Not Matteo.
The unnamed child with the birthmark beneath his right ear.
He was standing beside a woman in a white medical coat.
Dominic studied her face.
Then froze.
The woman was Dr. Evelyn Hart.
But the photograph was dated only three weeks earlier.
Three weeks ago.
Evelyn had claimed she had not been inside Bellwether facilities for years.
Dominic slowly looked at Adrian.
"She lied."
Adrian examined the photograph.
"Possibly. We need to establish when and where this was taken."
Dominic barely heard him.
Because there was another detail in the image.
Behind Evelyn stood a man in a dark suit.
His face was partly obscured.
But Dominic recognized the distinctive silver-framed glasses.
Charles Barrett.
Sloane's father.
The man who had just been confronted by his daughter about Jonathan.
Dominic reached for his phone.
He called Elena.
She answered immediately.
"Dominic?"
"Where's Evelyn?"
"In the kitchen."
"Listen carefully. Don't confront her. Have Marco stay with you."
Elena became still.
"What happened?"
"I found a recent photograph of her with the unknown boy."
Silence.
Then Elena whispered, "That's impossible."
"She was with Charles Barrett."
Elena's breathing quickened.
"Dominic, she's been alone with the boys."
His blood turned cold.
"Where are they?"
"Upstairs."
"Go to them. Now."
He heard hurried footsteps.
Then Elena called out.
"Luca? Leo?"
No answer.
"Elena?"
Her breathing accelerated.
She opened a door.
Dominic heard her gasp.
"Dominic."
"What?"
"The boys aren't in their room."
His heart slammed against his ribs.
"Find Marco."
Elena ran down the hallway.
Then she stopped.
A child's voice sounded faintly in the background.
"Mommy?"
Matteo.
Elena rushed toward him.
"Where are your brothers?"
The boy was crying.
"Dr. Hart took them outside."
Dominic felt the world narrow.
"Elena, put the phone on speaker."
She obeyed.
"Matteo," Dominic said, forcing his voice to remain calm. "Where did she take Luca, Leo, and Nico?"
The boy sniffled.
"She said they were going to see a surprise."
"What surprise?"
"A brother."
Dominic stopped breathing.
Matteo continued.
"She said Gabriel was coming home."
A sharp sound came from Elena's phone.
Someone shouting.
Marco.
Then the security alarm began blaring.
Dominic turned toward Detective Mitchell.
"My children may be in danger."
She immediately spoke into her radio.
Dominic could hear Elena running.
Then Marco's voice came through the phone.
"Boss! We intercepted Dr. Hart at the garage!"
Dominic closed his eyes briefly.
"Are the boys safe?"
"Yes. Luca, Leo, and Nico are with security."
"Where is Evelyn?"
"She's here."
Dominic gripped the phone.
"Don't let her leave."
Marco hesitated.
"Boss, she's insisting she wasn't taking them away."
"Then what was she doing?"
"She says someone called her and told her Gabriel had arrived at the property gate."
Dominic went still.
"What?"
"She says she took the boys to identify him."
Dominic's pulse quickened.
"Was there a child at the gate?"
Marco paused.
"Yes."
Dominic stared.
"Who?"
"An unidentified boy. Approximately six years old. The guards stopped him before he reached the house."
Dominic felt something twist inside his chest.
"Describe him."
Marco's voice changed.
"Dark hair. Brown eyes. Thin build."
A pause.
"And he has a birthmark beneath his right ear."
Dominic stopped breathing.
The boy from the photograph.
The child who looked like Matteo.
He had appeared at Seabrook.
While Dominic stood inside the room where someone had held him.
"Is he still there?" Dominic demanded.
"Yes."
"Does he have anyone with him?"
"No."
"Is he hurt?"
"He appears frightened, but there's no obvious injury."
Dominic pressed the phone harder against his ear.
"Get him somewhere safe. Have medical personnel assess him. Don't let anyone question him aggressively."
"Understood."
Then Marco hesitated.
"Boss, there's something else."
Dominic closed his eyes.
"What now?"
"The boy is carrying a photograph."
"Of what?"
"Of you."
Dominic went still.
Marco continued.
"It's an old photograph. You and Miss Rossi, six years ago."
Dominic felt his throat tighten.
"Does he know who I am?"
Marco was silent for a moment.
Then said, "He asked for you by name."
Dominic stared at the empty room.
"Put him on the phone."
A rustling sound followed.
Then a small voice spoke.
"Hello?"
Dominic's heart nearly stopped.
"Hello, sweetheart."
"Are you Dominic Moretti?"
"Yes."
The child was silent.
Dominic swallowed.
"What's your name?"
Another pause.
Then the boy whispered, "They call me Daniel."
Dominic closed his eyes.
Daniel.
The name matched the identity once assigned to Gabriel in the records.
Another stolen name.
Another piece of the puzzle.
"Daniel," Dominic said gently. "Are you safe?"
"I think so."
"Good."
The boy hesitated.
Then asked a question that made Dominic's blood run cold.
"Did you find the room?"
Dominic stared.
"Yes."
"Did you find the rabbit?"
"Yes."
The child began crying softly.
Dominic's throat tightened.
"Daniel, listen to me. Nobody is going to hurt you while we're trying to help you."
The boy sniffled.
"That's what the other man said."
Dominic felt cold.
"What other man?"
"The one who gave me the watch."
His father's watch.
"Who was he?"
The boy hesitated.
Then whispered, "He said he was your brother."
Dominic froze.
His brother?
Dominic had grown up believing he was Vittorio Moretti's only son.
There had never been another child.
Never another heir.
Never another Moretti brother.
"Daniel," he said slowly, "what was the man's name?"
The boy sniffled.
"He said you'd know him."
Dominic's pulse hammered.
"What did he look like?"
The child took a shaky breath.
"He looked like you."
Dominic stopped moving.
Then the boy whispered the final words.
"But older. And he told me that if you opened the fifth cabinet, you'd find out why your father never wanted you to know he existed."
Dominic slowly turned toward the filing cabinets in Unit Five.
Four stood against the left wall.
A fifth stood alone beneath the window.
Until that moment, nobody had opened it.
And attached to its handle was a small brass nameplate.
VITTORIO MORETTI — PRIVATE FAMILY RECORDS
Dominic stared.
Because inside that cabinet might be the identity of a brother he had never known.
A brother who could have helped orchestrate the disappearance of his children.
And a brother who might now be controlling everything Richard and Charles Barrett had spent six years trying to conceal.