Chapter 8 - Family Jewelry
Nico laughed when Julian asked to see his ring.
"You dragged me into a clinic with a bullet in my leg, and now you want jewelry?"
"Show me."
Nico held up his right hand.
Bare.
"Where is it?"
"Lost it years ago."
Derek leaned against the wall. "Convenient."
Nico's eyes sharpened. "You accusing me?"
"I'm asking."
"No, you're doing that thing where your face goes dead and everyone assumes there's a grave waiting."
Julian did not blink.
Maya stood near the door, watching both cousins.
"When did you lose it?" she asked.
Nico looked at her. "Vegas. Maybe six years ago."
"Anyone verify that?"
He smiled despite the pain. "You'd make a terrifying accountant."
"My father was one."
The smile disappeared.
Nico knew.
Maya saw it.
"You knew him too."
Nico looked at Julian. "What did you tell her?"
"Enough."
"That's not an answer."
"Neither was yours."
Nico rubbed a hand over his face. "Rafael reviewed company books. Everybody knew him. He was decent. Too decent for us."
Maya hated the casual way he said us.
Derek's phone vibrated.
"Locker 314," he said. "I ran the key shape. Looks like an old Union Station luggage locker key from before they changed the system."
Julian stood. "Vale said to bring Maya there at noon."
"He knows the key is connected," Maya said.
"Or he wants us to think that."
Nico pushed himself upright. "I'm coming."
"No."
"Julian—"
"You can barely walk."
"And apparently I'm a suspect. Keeping me close seems smart."
Derek muttered, "He's got a point. Hate that."
At 11:47, Union Station was packed with commuters, tourists, and people dragging luggage beneath the high stone arches.
Julian hated crowds. Too many hands. Too many exits. Too many places for a gun to hide.
Maya wore a baseball cap and borrowed coat. Derek stayed ten feet behind. Nico, pale and limping, watched from a cafe table.
Locker 314 no longer existed.
But the old locker wall had been preserved behind a maintenance corridor.
The key opened a rusted metal compartment no bigger than a shoebox.
Inside was a cassette tape.
Maya stared. "Seriously?"
"Your father trusted old technology," Julian said. "Harder to hack."
There was also a note.
Elena knows the song. The song gives the page. The page gives the name.
Maya frowned.
Her mother sang the same lullaby every night when Maya was little.
She whispered the first line in Spanish.
Julian watched her count syllables.
"Page seven," she said.
"Of what?"
"The recipe binder."
Derek called the man guarding it at the clinic.
No answer.
He called again.
Still nothing.
Julian's face tightened.
Then Nico's phone buzzed on the cafe table.
He glanced down.
Maya saw the message before he turned the screen away.
BLUE BINDER SECURED.
Her eyes lifted to his.
Nico went pale.
Julian saw it too.
"Give me the phone."
Nico stood too fast, nearly falling.
"Julian, listen—"
Derek reached for him.
May you like
Nico pulled a gun.
And pointed it directly at Maya.
