by Shayla Black
As they walked down the street toward Celeste’s just before eleven, the happy cocoon she’d been in dissolved. Nerves dive-bombed her stomach and gnawed at her composure. Her father had been trying to tell her something from beyond the grave, and she didn’t want to fail him. Jon had also made it very clear this could quickly turn dangerous. He’d made her promise to follow his instructions explicitly and immediately if it did.
As they reached the old brick building with the little white sign that proclaimed, CELESTE’S: A FAMILY-OWNED BUSINESS SINCE 1967, a woman with salt-and-pepper hair, dancing dark eyes, and a pleasantly round face opened the door and let them in.
Her gaze lit on Jon with a smile. “I remember you. You no come to see me for a long while, eh? So handsome.” She patted his face.
Lucia swore she could see Jon blush. “Thank you, Celeste.”
“My daughter, she is still single…” The woman flashed another grin, then her eyes lit on Lucia. “Ah, but I see I am too late. Lucky girl. And che bella donna!” She winked.
How sweet of Celeste to call her beautiful. With a conspiratorial glance at Jon, Lucia held her hand out to the woman. “I’m Lucia DiStefano. I think you knew my father?”
“Ah. Of course.” Celeste embraced her in a tight hug as if welcoming long-lost family, then stepped back, misty-eyed, and crossed herself. “God rest your father. Always he was kind to me and my family. He spoke of you with such pride.”
That warmed Lucia. Nicholas DiStefano hadn’t been a demonstrative man. He’d never really told her that he was proud. But she had no doubt that Celeste had spoken the truth, and it comforted Lucia to know that her father had noticed her accomplishments.
“Thank you. I miss him.” She swallowed down lingering grief. Jon grabbed her hand, thumb caressing the back for reinforcement. She worked up the courage to ask Celeste, “Did he leave anything here for me, perhaps? A piece of paper of any kind?”
Celeste reared back, then hit her forehead with her open palm. “Mamma Mia! But of course. Follow me…”
Excitement chugging, Lucia followed Celeste as she led them through the modest dining room with its checkered tablecloths and pristine white napkins, into the kitchen. The smell of roasting garlic, basil, and oregano simmering with rich, ripe tomatoes blended with the heavenly yeasty scent of freshly baked bread. Her stomach rumbled, and Lucia thought wryly of the room service food that had gotten cold while Jon had pinned her to the bed and taught her a host of new ways that he could make her whole body glow.
As Celeste led them into a little office in the back, she sat behind a battered desk and riffled through a filing drawer. “God bless your father. He eat here nearly every week for thirty years. He was like family.”
Lucia frowned. Yet he’d never brought her here. She’d never even heard of Celeste’s. Though her father’s nature had been secretive, she had to believe that hadn’t meant that he’d loved her any less.
Celeste continued to search her drawer. “Always he brings his associates. They drink and laugh. And tip well.” She laughed, and then her smile fell. “Your father, he help my son scare away the street thugs who try to make us to give money for protection. He thank me for a good meal every time. And he come to my husband’s funeral five years ago. Afterward, he hug me so tight and tell me, ‘If you or your children need anything, call me.’”
Really? Her father had always been an enigma, kept a distance she really hadn’t comprehended between her and himself. As an adult, she guessed it was because he wanted as much room between her and his mob associates—his way of protecting her. On the one hand, she was envious that this woman and her family had known him well enough to call him a friend. On the other hand, envy aside, it warmed her heart to know he truly had the kind heart she’d always suspected. No, she knew he hadn’t been an angel, but he’d been her father. She’d loved him, as Celeste clearly had.
“Ah, I find it for you. Here.” The older woman held the envelope out to her.
Lucia took it slowly, fingers wrapping around the slightly yellowed edges with a pounding heart. “Thank you. Do you remember when my father gave this to you?”
“Not long before his death. I hear him tell another that he does not trust everyone around him…”
That instinct had been right. Lucia wished that he could have prevented his murder. Damn it, she wished he’d told her of his suspicions, though she knew logically that she could have done nothing to save him.
“I appreciate you keeping this for him and giving it to me.”
Celeste nodded and ambled to the door of her office. “I leave you here to read your letter, eh? I stir my sauce and serve you a plate. You look hungry.”
Jon nodded, looking grateful. “I always love your lasagna.”
“I make it for you.” Celeste smiled. “Lucia?”
She was hungry…and yet now that she held words that her father had written just for her shortly before his death, she wasn’t sure she could eat a bite. But she didn’t want to offend her father’s friend. “Lasagna is great. Thank you.”
The moment Celeste closed the door behind them, Jon fused his gaze to hers. “Talk to me. Your voice is shaking. Afraid? Nervous?”
God, the man was so attuned to her moods. “Nervous. This moment has gravity. It’s like I’m going to read what he says, then I’ll have to say good-bye all over again.”
With seemingly little effort, Jon grabbed her around the waist and lifted her into his lap as he sat in Celeste’s office chair. It creaked under their joint weight, but held as he brought her close to his chest.
“I know, Doc. This is hard, and none of it is fair. But he wanted you to do this for a reason.”
Lucia nodded. “And I need to honor his wish, even if I don’t understand it.”
With trembling fingers, she opened the envelope and withdrew a piece of heavy stationary in a crisp white. She recognized the slanted handwriting inked in black as her father’s immediately. A wave of longing rushed up to her. She wished she’d understood him better, that they’d been closer. She’d always imagined they’d have more time together.
But she didn’t, and now she had to choke back her regret and move forward—for him.
My dearest Lucia,
A thousand words cannot express my regret for leaving you so soon. I leave you this task, my clever little bambina, because you alone will understand my message and do right with it. Think of all I taught you. I am counting on you and am so proud.
Love,
Papa
Tears filled her eyes. Lucia blinked to clear her vision, but they kept coming back. Jon was with her instantly, drying them away.
“Don’t cry, Doc. He loved you.”
“I miss him.”
“Of course you do. You always will. He helped give you life and represented security for you. He protected you and loved you in his way.”
She released a shuddering breath. Jon was right. “This is one hell of a cryptovariable for this cipher. But I need to do this last thing for him.”
Jon hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll be with you, watching out for you.”
Protecting her in case danger reared its head. She knew that was what he meant. Still, she couldn’t help loving him for it.
“How does it work?” he asked. “What was his system?”
“He kept this one simple.” Lucia clutched the note and pointed to the first few items on the cipher. “See these three numbers grouped together?”
“Twenty-four, one hundred twenty-one, seventy-two.” He frowned. “Those aren’t numbers that correspond to letters of the alphabet.”
“No.” She laid the two papers out side by side and started counting. Within a few moments, she knew for certain that she understood. “It isn’t twenty-four exactly. He’s really saying second word, fourth letter. He never counted salutations or closings, just the body of the letter. So the second word, fourth letter is—”
“U,” Jon said, grabbing a piece of paper and a pen off Celeste’s desk. �
��What’s next?”
“One hundred twenty-one is a bit trickier. But since the first word doesn’t have twenty-one letters, we’re safe to assume he meant twelfth word, first letter.”
“S.”
“Exactly. Next is seventy-two.”
“E.” Jon frowned. “Use? He wants you to use something?”
“That’s the end of the word. See how he ended the line and continued his cipher directly below? That’s his indication of another word.”
“Let’s keep moving.”
A half hour and two plates of piping hot lasagna later, they sat back, staring at Jon’s scribbles on the pad, and he read them again to make certain he hadn’t misunderstood. “Use key to open space twenty-eight at Newark Storage Solutions. Give to FBI.”
Jon pulled the key from his pocket. “This must open the lock at the storage facility.”
Lucia nodded. “Agreed. But who else knows about this storage facility and has simply been waiting for the person with the key to open it?”
Good question. “Likely the person with the most to lose. The person who killed your father—Pietro. We can’t prove that…”
“Yet. Hopefully with this”—she palmed the key—“we will. I just wonder what we’ll find.”
Jon wiped a bit of sauce off the corner of her mouth, then kissed her. “Let’s find out.”
* * *
THE TRIP TO Newark Storage Solutions took barely three minutes by taxi, long enough for Jon to text an FYI to his boss and a fellow agent in the area, so they would stand by for backup—just in case. The sun shone down brightly in the cloudless sky. It was a perfect day…and yet as the driver dropped them off, Jon didn’t like it. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He was watching carefully and hadn’t spotted anyone following them. That didn’t mean someone wasn’t lying in wait.
“Please let me put you back in the taxi, Doc. I’ll handle it from here.”
Resolutely, she shook her head. “My father wanted me to find this. There might be another puzzle to solve. That would be his style.”
Swallowing a curse, Jon relented. He couldn’t refute her. Yeah, he could get the Bureau involved, but there would be delays and red tape, and he didn’t have time for that.
With a wave, he sent the cab driver off.
The moment Lucia spoke with the facility owner, who opened the gate to admit them, Jon wrapped a protective arm around her waist and walked with her down the narrow paths past one corrugated orange door after another, peering at the black numbers above. For her sake, he hoped this was the end of the trail and that this gave her the peace she sought. If it at all helped with Stef’s case, it would be a huge bonus. Time was running out for his brother, and if this lead proved fruitless, he was going to have to start from scratch. But he wasn’t giving up.
Nor was he ready to let Lucia go. He had no notion whether this had been just a pleasant interlude for her, a way to fulfill a fantasy. Did she intend to simply go back to her fancy private school in the fall and resume her life without him? They’d both carefully avoided discussing the future, focusing instead on solving the riddle her father had left behind. But now that the end was seemingly in sight, Jon couldn’t stop thinking about tomorrow. The picture without Lucia in it wasn’t one he wanted to contemplate. Could she live with his job, the danger, the separation, the adrenaline?
“Here it is.” Her voice shook, and she drew in a huge breath.
“I’ll unlock it for you.”
“No. He wanted me to do this, and I won’t let him down.”
Jon knew exactly why Nicholas DiStefano had been proud of his daughter. Smart, yes. That was a given. But her backbone impressed him. She could have hidden her head in the sand and decided that whatever her father wanted uncovered would be safer buried forever. But no. And she insisted on being the one to do it. No crying, no hand-wringing. Not that she wasn’t afraid, but she faced it head-on. He had to admire the hell out of that.
Slowly, Lucia released a shuddering breath and tried to steady her hands as she fit the key into the padlock on door number twenty-eight. It popped open, and she pulled it free of the mooring. Jon bent to throw the door up. Sunlight shafted under the metal door as he revealed the insides one inch at a time.
Concrete. Emptiness. Just an echo as they stepped in the ten-by-ten space that contained nothing except one little box in the corner.
Lucia stared at it like a snake, transfixed but terrified. Jon understood. This meant potential danger. Whatever was in that box had been a secret her father had probably died for. But it also meant she had to face his death again and say another good-bye.
She didn’t hesitate, just walked over to the metal box and bent. “There’s a combination.”
And they were out of clues. Damn it. “Any ideas? Your birthday, maybe?”
Immediately Lucia shook her head. “He didn’t like being obvious. He wouldn’t pick birthdays or addresses…”
“May I?” He held out his hands for the box.
Without a word, she handed it over. He inspected the top, blowing off the thick layer of dust, glancing at the sides. When he rubbed his fingertips along the bottom, the disturbance of the smooth surface made him frown. He lifted up the box and peered at the bottom, hearing something metallic rattle around inside. The investigator in him knew they could call in a team and just pry the son of a bitch open. But he was technically off the clock, and this was Lucia’s gig until he knew he had something worthy of calling in his boss and a whole team. For all they knew, this box contained nothing more than family mementoes or had already been raided. It didn’t look like it…but until he knew it hadn’t been disturbed, he had to play along.
The appearance of three letters carved into the gray metal surface along the bottom of the box made him frown. “LRD.”
“My initials. Oh, he used to do this when I was little. It’s a Caesar Cipher. It’s also called a Caesar Shift Decoder. It lets you decode text by shifting each letter a certain number of ‘steps’ along the alphabet. Since he didn’t specify, I’ll assume he used one. So that would mean that A becomes B, B becomes C, etc.”
Jon had heard of this cipher. “So L becomes M, R becomes S, and D becomes E. This is a numeric padlock, though.”
“The letters probably represent the number of that symbol in the alphabet. M is the thirteenth letter.”
“So the combination is thirteen, nineteen, five?”
She didn’t look convinced. “That’s my best guess. Just knowing what I knew of my father.”
He handed the box back to her. “Want to do the honors?”
Lucia’s face turned pensive and reluctant, but she nodded and she reached for the metal square. “Yes.”
Moments later, she had the lock in hand and had dialed out the combination they’d puzzled their way into. To his shock, it popped open on the first try.
“Oh my God,” she breathed. “It worked.”
Jon brought her against his chest. “You knew your father better than you thought. He’d be really proud of you today.”
She smiled up at him, and wasn’t that the prettiest sight he’d ever seen, her chocolate eyes swimming with proud, poignant tears, her mouth still swollen from his kisses.
“Open it,” he urged. “You’ve earned it.”
Prying off the little lock and handing it to him, she lifted the lid—and gasped. Jon peered inside. There sat a platinum filigree engagement ring that looked very old, the ornate detail ringing a carat and a half of lovely round diamond. Beside it rested a locket in a warm yellow gold with two emeralds encrusted on the front, topped with a little diamond and a few etchings to mimic the shape of a flower. It was suspended on a short chain decorated with shimmering crystals and onyx beads.
“I’ve been searching for my grandmother’s engagement ring and my great-grandmother’s locket since Papa’s death.” But it was the iPod beside those two items that she reached for first.
Scooping it up, she pressed the button to turn it on. Nothing.
Not that Jon had expected anything. He went digging in his pockets. “It’s been sitting dormant for a few years, Doc. The battery’s dead.”
“Yeah.” She nodded, clearly nervous. “I should have realized that. I’m just—”
“There’s a lot going on. Here.” He handed her the little portable charging device he carried around for his iPhone.
Her eyes lit on it, and relief crossed her face as she clipped the little charger onto the device. He was glad to make her smile, but…
“We shouldn’t investigate the iPod here. Let’s take it back to our room.” In fact, Jon was certain that his boss would be very interested in this development. But he wanted to be in a safe place to look at the contents first.
“I’ve waited years already. I’ve solved the riddles he left for me. I have to hear what he wanted me to know.”
Jon hesitated. Her plea was passionate and emotional. But that impending sense of danger rolled over him again. Whatever was on that iPod may have gotten Nicholas killed. He’d hidden it this thoroughly for a reason. He’d told her to give it to the FBI. Besides, standing out here in the open, they were awfully vulnerable. Other than a single security gate, intended to keep cars more than people out, the area was totally accessible to anyone.
“Lucia, we’re not safe here. Let’s get secure—”
“Two minutes. Please. If we haven’t seen anything interesting yet, I’ll shut it off. We’ll be fine. If Pietro had any idea where my father had hidden this, he would have already come and taken it. And I don’t think we were followed.”
“We don’t know that for sure, Lucia.”
“You’re being paranoid.”
He raised a brow at her. “Better paranoid than dead.”
She stood, watching him, measuring his words. That look on her face told him that she was going to argue.
Jon had had enough. He’d stepped back and let her solve the riddle her way. Now they were entering his territory. As much as he’d like to grant her wish, he couldn’t afford to be soft with her when it came to safety. “Whatever is running through that pretty head of yours, Doc, don’t say it. I picked you up and carried you out of a situation once. You can be damn sure that I don’t have a problem doing it again.”
