Chapter 3 - LUCIA'S SONG
The Valenti family had owned a townhouse on Astor Street for generations.
It was no longer used as a residence. The windows were covered, the gardens had grown wild, and a security team stood near the entrance.
Dante waited beside the car.
“Are you ready?”
“No.”
He opened the door.
“That's honest.”
I followed him inside.
The house smelled of polished wood and old paper. A staircase curved toward the second floor. Family photographs lined the walls.
Dante stopped before one.
A young woman stood beside a grand piano. She had dark hair, bright eyes, and a smile that looked almost identical to his.
“Lucia?” I asked.
He nodded.
“She was stubborn.”
“Like you?”
“Worse.”
It was the first time I'd heard him make a joke about his family.
He led me to the music room.
The piano stood near the window, covered with a white sheet. Dante pulled it away.
“Lucia played every morning,” he said. “Even when she was angry. Especially when she was angry.”
He opened the bench and removed a folder of sheet music.
I examined the pages.
There were classical pieces, handwritten notes, and a few songs with titles in Italian.
“Which one is hers?”
Dante searched the folder.
“It's not here.”
“Are you sure?”
“I watched her put it away the last time she played.”
“Where?”
He looked at the piano.
“Inside the instrument.”
Together, we examined the underside and the wooden panels. Near the left pedal, I found a small metal latch.
I pressed it.
A narrow compartment opened.
Inside was a sheet of music folded into quarters.
Dante took it carefully.
At the top, written in Lucia's handwriting, were the words:
THE BIRD REMEMBERS.
Beneath them was a short melody.
I looked at the notes.
“Do you know how to play it?”
“No.”
“Your sister never taught you?”
“She said it was unfinished.”
I turned the page over.
There was a sequence of numbers written in the lower corner.
Not a date.
Not a phone number.
Coordinates.
Dante called Gabriel.
“Have these checked.”
Gabriel photographed the page and sent it to his team.
While we waited, I walked around the room.
A framed photograph sat on the mantel. Lucia was standing with my mother.
My breath caught.
“Dante.”
He came over.
The picture was old, perhaps seven years earlier. Lucia was laughing, and my mother stood beside her with one arm around her shoulders.
On the back, someone had written:
FOR MARGARET, WHO TAUGHT ME THAT COURAGE IS A CHOICE.
I touched the words.
“My mother knew your sister.”
“Yes.”
“Were they friends?”
“I think they were more than that. Lucia trusted her.”
“Then my mother didn't just find the records. She was helping Lucia.”
Dante nodded.
A vibration sounded from Gabriel's phone.
He checked the message.
“The coordinates point to a storage facility in Cicero.”
Dante looked at me.
“Do you recognize the address?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Then we'll go together.”
Before we could leave, a sound came from upstairs.
A door closing.
Gabriel's hand moved toward his jacket.
Dante raised one finger.
The guards spread through the hallway.
I stayed beside the piano.
A moment later, Matteo appeared at the top of the stairs.
“Clear,” he called. “Just an old window latch.”
Dante looked back at me.
“Let's go.”
I followed him outside.
At the bottom of the steps, my phone vibrated.
A new message.
This time, the number wasn't hidden.
CAMERON:
I know you're with him. You have no idea what kind of man he is.
Another message arrived.
CAMERON:
Ask him what happened to Lucia.
I showed Dante.
He read the messages.
“Did Cameron ever mention my sister?”
“No.”
“Did he ask about the old townhouse?”
“No.”
Dante handed the phone back.
“Then he knows more than he's admitting.”
I stared at the screen.
A final message appeared.
CAMERON:
Your mother made a deal. You should ask what she promised.
I looked up.
“What deal?”
Dante's expression had become unreadable.
May you like
“I don't know.”
But something told me he had begun to suspect the answer.
