Chapter 2 - The Third Mattress
I didn't go to Rebecca's house immediately.
That was what the old Thomas would have done.
The man Ethan feared.
The man who solved problems before lawyers knew they existed.
But those children needed Uncle Thomas more than Austin needed Moretti.
So I stayed.
I sat beside Leo until medication finally pulled him into sleep.
Maya refused to leave his bed.
A nurse eventually brought her crackers.
She hid two beneath her blanket.
“For later,” she whispered.
There should never have been a “later” in which a three-year-old expected not to eat.
Detective Elena Ramirez arrived shortly after midnight.
“You're Thomas Moretti.”
“Yes.”
She clearly knew the rest.
Good.
Then we didn't need to waste time pretending.
“Rebecca Ashford Moretti is missing.”
“When?”
“Approximately two hours before officers arrived.”
“How?”
“Rear security camera was disabled.”
“Convenient.”
Ramirez watched me carefully.
“Don't interfere.”
“I won't.”
“Your definition of interference concerns me.”
“My nephew can barely walk. My niece hides food. Right now, Detective, my definition of interference is considerably broader than yours.”
She held my stare.
Then placed photographs on the table.
The basement.
Concrete walls.
Heavy lock.
Two small mattresses.
Children's clothing.
Plastic water bottles.
A bucket.
Then another photograph.
A third mattress.
Larger than Maya's.
Smaller than an adult's.
“Who slept there?”
“We don't know.”
Beside it was a scratched message.
Not words.
Four vertical lines carved into the wall.
Leo and Maya made two children.
Who were the other two?
Ramirez showed me another photograph.
A pink sneaker.
Not Maya's.
Then a plastic bracelet.
Three letters written in marker.
AVA.
“Does that name mean anything?”
“No.”
Ramirez closed the folder.
“Rebecca's financial records show regular transfers from an account belonging to a nonprofit.”
“What nonprofit?”
“Ethan Moretti Children's Foundation.”
My brother's charity.
I stood.
Ramirez continued.
“Thomas.”
I turned.
“The transfers started before Ethan died.”
That stopped me.
“How long before?”
“Eleven months.”
Ethan had established the foundation five years earlier after Leo was born.
He personally reviewed every major expense.
Rebecca couldn't have quietly drained it for eleven months without someone hiding the withdrawals.
“Who authorized them?”
Ramirez hesitated.
“Ethan.”
Impossible.
Then Leo spoke from the bed.
“He didn't.”
We both turned.
He was awake.
His face had gone pale.
“Leo?”
He stared at the photograph of the basement.
“Daddy found the other girl.”
My pulse slowed.
“What other girl?”
“Ava.”
Ramirez leaned closer.
“Who is Ava?”
Leo began shaking.
I took his hand.
“You're safe.”
He whispered:
“She was there before us.”
“Where is she now?”
His eyes moved toward the door.
Then he said something neither of us expected.
“Rebecca said Daddy took her away.”
My brother had supposedly died three months ago.
May you like
But Leo whispered:
“I saw Daddy after his funeral.”
