by Zoey Derrick
“No,” I answer, though I don’t feel the conviction behind the word.
Liam pulls out of our parking spot and gets us on our way, putting distance between us and the storage unit. “What if they’ve been looking for what’s in this box?”
“If they were looking for it, your apartment would have been tossed when I went to clean it out after your dad’s death. It wasn’t. If they were looking for it, other than the alarm being on the door, what would have stopped them from entering that unit? Not to mention the fact that Declan is the only person who knows about this unit.”
“You said your brother…” Bryan counters.
“Declan is my brother.”
The car falls silent as Liam drives us down the road. His glances in his rear view and side mirrors doesn’t go unnoticed. “You think someone’s following us?” I ask.
“No, but it doesn’t hurt to keep an eye out. We haven’t had anyone behind us in over two miles.” Just then he makes a sharp right turn, no signal, no warning. “Believe me, please?”
“I believe you. But the cops followed you for weeks back then,” I remind him.
“Aye, but I knew they were there and they only ever followed when they knew I was driving. Not that they needed to. They were always aware of where we were going before we left the house,” he says with confidence. “There wasn’t much that transpired I was unaware of and the things that did transpire were outside my purview when it came to the investigation and I had no need to know. But when it came to the safety of you, the other girls, and me, they held nothing back.”
“I always assumed when they sent in undercovers that they just kind of forgot about them,” Bryan says.
“Sometimes, but with a case as big as Ricci’s and with what he was capable of, no one left anything to chance,” Liam says.
He makes another sharp turn, this time to the left and then we’re on the highway. The farther away from the unit we get, the heavier the box gets in my lap. An ever-present reminder of something my father was trying to tell me, or keep from me. Time will tell which one. Nevertheless, this is something I need to find out about.
It isn’t until Bryan’s hand on top of the box stops my movement that I realize I’ve been pushing the lid up and down absently. “We’ll be at the hotel in ten minutes, can you wait that long?” Bryan says softly into my ear.
“I’m trying.”
“Livia, I know you want into it, but please, give us time to get to the hotel,” Liam requests from the front seat.
“Alright,” I agree with reluctance. “I’m just anxious. I’m sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, baby. We understand.” Bryan kisses my temple and it calms me more than I think he knows or realizes.
I knew the morning after arriving in Nashville that I was falling in love with him. Now I know I’m in love with him. I’ve stopped myself so many times from saying those three little words because the idea makes me feel vulnerable. If I can just remain inside this blissful little bubble a little while longer, it will mean all the difference in the world. I must believe that because this box on my lap is like Pandora’s Box. I have a feeling that once it’s opened, it can never be sealed again. Who knows what that will mean for me and Bryan, or my uncertain future.
After a short drive we pull outside a high-end extravagant hotel near Central Park. It’s not the Plaza, that would be too obvious and too much of a tourist trap. No, this place caters to the mega-rich and famous.
Liam pulls into the valet line and we all exit the car. Bryan and I go inside while Liam handles our luggage. Bryan checks us into our room and before long we’re standing inside the presidential suite.
“You sure know how to woo a girl.” I shoulder check Bryan and he laughs.
“Only the best,” he smirks as he gives the room a once-over. He places the box tucked under his arm on the massive dining table near the windows overlooking Central Park.
“It’s breathtaking.” Seeing the city sprawled out beneath us reminds me even more of what it was like to live in New York City. The constant hustle and bustle of people walking down the streets. The constant confusion of the tourists standing in front of signs or on street corners reading maps. My favorite was watching attempt to navigate the subway system.
Sundays were always my favorite day in the city. That was usually when the tourists cleared out and the natives moved about town handling their business. The streets that housed nearly nine million people were practically empty. It was heaven on earth.
I turn away from the window that’s opened my mind to reminiscing about those days and back to reality and the brown box that seems to be growing bigger by the minute in my hands.
There’s a knock on the door and I jump. “Relax, baby, it’s just the luggage,” Bryan admonished me and I take a deep breath.
“The sooner we can get this over with, the faster I can at least attempt to relax.”
“Good,” Bryan smiles.
Liam enters the room with two men behind him. One is the bellman and the other couldn’t be further from a bellman, but has a striking resemblance to Liam. I find myself sliding behind Bryan like an eight-year-old meeting a stranger for the first time. “You can just set the luggage there.” Liam points to an empty area behind a sofa and the bellman begins to unload the baggage cart he’s brought with him. “Bryan, Livia, I’d like you to meet my brother, Declan Callahan.”
The other man, who is clearly Declan, extends his hand and Bryan takes it. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Bryan tells Declan.
“Likewise, my brother speaks very highly of you,” Declan says. His voice and accent are matched to Liam’s and if it wasn’t for the fact that Declan is slightly taller than Liam, you’d have a hard time telling them apart.
Declan looks to me. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Livia.” He extends his hand to me.
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”
Declan smiles as I take his hand. “It’s quite alright. Things were a bit hectic back then. You look wonderful.”
“Thank you,” I blush.
Liam shows the bellman out and closes and bolts the door behind him. “I asked Declan to meet us here after we decided to stop at the unit. If whatever is in that box is personal, we will leave you to it,” Liam explains.
“But if by some strange miracle there is more information regarding Ricci, I’m going to have to collect it,” Declan tacks on.
I nod in understanding. “What more could there be? Don’t you guys already have everything you need?” I ask skeptically.
“We do, trust me on that part, but sometimes, some things are better left out of the court’s hands.”
“What does that mean exactly?” Bryan asks.
Declan looks to him and then back at me. “Witnesses testifying, jury tampering, influenced judges, things like that. We’ve done everything we can to fight for a deal, but we haven’t had any success. Ricci wants to take his chances with the courts. We, at the FBI, don’t want to take that chance.”
“That still leaves the question unanswered. What could possibly be left that could hand you Vito Ricci’s head on a silver platter?”
“Why don’t you open that box and find out?” Liam points to the brown box in front of me on the table. I step closer to the table and slide the box closer to me before pulling the lid off the top.
On the very top of the box is a folded piece of paper with my name on it in my father’s handwriting.
I look to Liam for clarification. “You didn’t see this before?”
He shrugs. “I just assumed it was more shoes.” I pull the paper from the box. Underneath it is a book, a black, leather-bound book.
I unfold the paper with trembling hands.
My Dearest Livia,
If you’re reading this, I am dead. And one of the reasons I’m dead is here in this box.
I’ve never could do right by your mother, so I am hoping, with any luck, that I can do right by you.
When yo
ur mother died, I questioned everything about her accident because I wasn’t entirely sure it was an accident. There is another box with this one that will answer that question for you too.
I hope this letter finds you well. Please know I did everything in my power to protect you.
All my love,
Always,
Dad
I return to the box with tear-filled eyes and pull out a black journal of sorts. Holding it in my hands I flip open the cover. There’s a note stuck to the inside front cover. It reads:
There’s more to Vito Ricci than meets the eye.
I tilt the book and something falls from between the pages. A twenty-dollar bill?
I pick it up and look it over before sliding it across the table. The three men in the room are speechless as I notice a tab on the top of the book like a bookmark and I open the book to that page. I find another sticky note:
Ricci’s best kept secret.
I lift the sticky note to see a ledger of some type. “I don’t know what any of this means,” I tell the three men as their eyes watch me intently.
“I do,” Declan says.
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Care to elaborate?” I ask.
“That’s the Ricci Family black book. I’d imagine there are records in that book dating all the way back to the start of the family. It’s the holy grail of holy grails,” Declan says.
“It says on a note in the front, ‘There’s more to Vito Ricci than meets the eye.’ There is another note here that says, ‘Ricci’s best kept secret’ followed by a ledger of sorts.”
“Can I see?” Declan asks, extending his hand for the book.
I hand it to him and he picks up the twenty that fell out of the book.
He studies a few of the pages, his eyes roaming from the book to the twenty and back again. “Son of a bitch,” Declan declares.
“What?” Liam asks him.
“You didn’t know about this?” Declan turns to him.
“About what, Dec?”
Declan holds up the twenty-dollar bill to Liam. “Look closely. Very, very closely.”
“Counterfeit?” Bryan asks.
Declan looks at him then back to the book and nods. “I’m not a forensic accountant and there’s a lot of numbers here, but this seems to be a detailed accounting of every dollar that went out as counterfeit and every dollar returned as real cash. But what I don’t get is, where’s the cash?”
“The real cash?” Liam asks. I look back in the box and find one more thing inside. Another piece of paper. While the men talk, I remove the paper from the box and unfold it. There’s nothing on it but an address. One I recognize.
“Yeah, he obviously managed to exchange his counterfeit for real money, but where did all the real cash end up?”
“Maybe it ended up in his accounts somewhere, somewhere that seemed inconsequential at the time,” Liam offers.
“Or maybe it’s here,” I say to them as I hand over the piece of paper with the address on it.
Liam, like me, recognizes the address. “That’s impossible.”
“Not really,” I say. “Think about it. What if the real reason Vito Ricci killed my father was because he knew his secret. He knew where the money was hidden and he took it from Ricci.”
I start to pace, a habit when I get nervous and I start to ramble. “I knew Ricci killing my father because he wouldn’t play both sides was too easy. Somewhere in the back of my mind I always knew there had to be more to it than that. Sure, Ricci would kill a man for looking at him cockeyed, but if my father was already on the inside, both as a cop and as a member of Ricci’s gang, I highly doubt Ricci would kill him. Why wouldn’t he just beat the shit out of him to put him back on the right path?” I take a deep breath. All eyes are on me as I continue, “What if it was because my father had discovered Ricci’s hidden secret? What if he found out about the money in some way, and traced it back to Ricci? Is it possible that my father tried to confront Ricci…?”
“Livia, slow down, but I think you may be on to something,” Bryan says and I turn to him. He’s opened the other box, the one with the case files in it. “Come look.”
I approach and take the file from him before returning to pacing as my eyes scan over the documents in my hand.
“What’s the significance behind the address?” Bryan asks the other two.
“It’s her old address,” Liam replies.
“We lived in an apartment building. It was small, only about ten units and a…” I stop in my tracks as two things cross my mind at the same time. The first is what I’m reading in the case file in regards to counterfeit cash being distributed by a group of teenagers and the second is the hidden alcove in the basement of my old apartment.
“A what, Livia?” Liam asks.
“Basement.”
“Every building in New York has a basement.”
I turn to Declan and Liam. “Not like this they don’t.” I walk back to the table and explain, “It’s a hidden door in the wall of the actual basement that leads down another flight of stairs. It was supposed to have been sealed off because there’s a train line that runs through there that wasn’t there when they originally built the building. It created this little alcove space with a dirt floor.”
“I have to call this in,” Declan says.
“Not yet.” Liam holds him off, but I can tell it’s not going to pacify him for long.
“The space isn’t big enough. I mean, we’re talking millions of dollars, right?” I ask.
Declan and Liam both nod. Bryan takes a seat in the chair, his disbelief evident by the paleness of his skin.
“If I’m reading this book correctly, then yes, between twenty and thirty million to be exact,” Declan says.
“There’s no way that kind of cash fits in that alcove and goes undiscovered for all these years. But I am willing to bet there is something there.”
“But what exactly?” Liam asks.
I shrug my shoulders. “I have no clue.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
I don’t like this.
BRYAN
“This is not a good idea,” I grumble.
“I have to know what he buried down there,” Livia argues.
“Then let Liam and Declan handle it. You have no business going back there.” I am trying my hardest to put my foot down with her. I don’t want her going back to that apartment. I worry she’s gonna get in over her head. How much more can she take on before the emotional toll breaks her? “A little over an hour ago you were cowering because of a van. What makes you think you can handle going back there?” I don’t want to scare her, just protect her. I take a deep breath and try a different tactic. “And what if you’re right? What if someone knew or suspected that book was in that unit and they were watching?”
My words settle like storm clouds in her eyes. “If that’s the case, then they know I’m alive.”
“That’s in the eye of the beholder, Livia,” Declan chimes in. “I can pull your file, if you want me to, but I can tell you that there is very little resemblance to the sixteen, seventeen and eighteen-year-old version of you. And from a distance? You look like any other woman.”
“This is all so fucked up,” Livia growls. “Go, do whatever you’re going to do to find what’s buried in that basement.”
“You’ll stay?” I ask her.
Her eyes meet mine. Anger, frustration and defeat all flash before me as she sighs. “Yes, I will stay here,” she breathes. She turns to Declan and Liam and demands, “I want to know what’s in that basement.”
“I don’t know if I can do that,” Declan says.
Livia spins around and charges toward him. “You son of a bitch, my father died protecting whatever he buried in that basement. Your goddamned idea of law enforcement left me high and fucking dry to fend for myself when you all knew damn well I was still in danger. Don’t give me that bullshit, Declan. You can and you will tell me what it is my father was protecting.”
�
��Livia,” Liam warns.
She peers over Declan’s shoulder. “Don’t, Liam. You’re in no better of a situation when it comes to this whole fucking thing. Don’t start with me. I’ve given you everything. I’ve even handed you what I can only assume is Ricci’s black book of all his business dealings, not to mention the fact that I handed that fucktard McMurray the trafficking ring’s book.”
“It was you?” Declan says in shock.
Livia looks at him and spats, “Yeah, asshole, it was me. I’m the one that handed McMurray his career building piece of evidence. I’m the one who has basically handed you the Ricci case on gold platters and getting left high and dry in the middle of fucking California is the thanks I got.” She rips the book from Declan’s hands. “Until I turn this over to the FBI, I will maintain possession of it. At a time I deem suitable and when I’m satisfied with the information you give me in regards to what’s buried in that basement. Are we clear?”
Holy shit. If I didn’t already love her, I definitely would now. Gotta admire a feisty woman who knows what she wants and does what she needs to get it.
“I am the FBI,” Declan says to her.
“Not in this hotel room you’re not. You are Liam’s brother. He invited you here because he was in town. Not because of your FBI status. It’s Sunday for crying out loud, and given the strings I know you’re capable of pulling, you’re not some lowlife little grunt on the totem pole. So, as far as I’m concerned, you were here as a friend and as such, this,” she holds up the book, “Does not exist on an official level. So, I will say again, are we clear, gentlemen?”
“Crystal,” Declan and Liam say at the same time. Declan has a look of contempt on his face while Liam has a look of fatherly pride on his. Me? My mouth is hanging open like a codfish thrown on the dock to die.
“On that note, you guys might want to go check it out,” I say when I find my voice.