Chapter 33 Chapter 33
THIRTY-THREE~
Detective Morrison wasn't happy when I told him about Marco Castellano's call.
"The Castellanos aren't people you mess with," he warned. "They have long memories and no conscience."
"So we just let them intimidate us into silence?" I asked. "What kind of message does that send?"
"The message that you value your life," Detective Morrison said bluntly. "Anita, I understand you want answers. But some answers aren't worth dying for."
"What if Diana's secrets could hurt Sarah?" I argued. "What if the Castellanos are threatening us because Diana knew something that could still damage Sarah's life?"
"Or what if they're threatening you because Diana knew something that could damage their business?" Detective Morrison countered. "This might have nothing to do with Sarah at all."
He had a point. But I couldn't let it go.
That evening, Sarah came to visit. She looked tired but more composed than the last time I'd seen her.
"I talked to Mom," she said. "We had a long conversation about Diana, about why she kept it secret, about everything."
"How are you feeling?" I asked.
"Better," Sarah admitted. "Still hurt, still confused. But I understand why Mom did what she did. And I know she loves me. That's what matters."
"I'm glad," I said, hugging her.
"But Anita, I need you to do something for me," Sarah said seriously. "Stop investigating Diana's past. Whatever she was involved in, it doesn't matter now. She's dead. It's over."
"What if it's not over?" I asked. "What if whatever Diana knew is still relevant?"
"Then let it stay buried," Sarah said. "I don't need to know everything about her. I just need to know she was my mother and she loved me enough to give me to someone who could raise me properly."
"The Castellanos got to you," I realized. "They threatened you too."
Sarah looked away. "Marco Castellano came to my work yesterday. He was very polite, very professional. But he made it clear that if anyone kept digging into Diana's past, people I love would get hurt. And I believe him, Anita."
"We can't let them control us through fear," I said.
"Why not?" Sarah asked. "What's the alternative? Keep investigating and risk David's life? Or yours? Or the kids'? Is knowing about Diana really worth that risk?"
She was right. But it felt wrong to back down.
"Let me think about it," I said.
After Sarah left, I sat down with Victoria's journals again. There had to be something in there about Diana and the Castellanos.
I found it in a journal from three years ago.
I met Diana Lawson's daughter today. Well, technically she's Anita's cousin, but Sarah doesn't know that. She's sweet, naive. Nothing like her mother.
Diana was anything but sweet. I did some research after Patricia told me about her. Diana Lawson was engaged to Richard Castellano before she died. Interesting connection.
What's more interesting is how Diana died. The official report says car accident. But there were rumors at the time that it wasn't an accident at all. That she was murdered because she knew too much about Castellano family business.
If that's true, it means Sarah is the daughter of a woman who was killed by organized crime. That's a hell of a secret to carry.
My hands shook as I read the entry. Diana might have been murdered?
I kept reading.
I tracked down the police officer who investigated Diana's accident. He's retired now, living in Florida. I called him and asked about the case.
He said the accident always bothered him. Diana's car went off a bridge, but there were signs of tampering with the brakes. He wanted to investigate further, but his superiors shut down the investigation. Said it was an accident, case closed.
He thinks the Castellanos paid off the department to stop looking into it. Diana knew something they wanted buried, so they buried her instead.
But here's the interesting part—Diana left something behind. A safety deposit box that was never opened after her death. The officer thinks whatever Diana knew might be in that box.
I tried to find out where the box is, but the trail goes cold. Someone made sure Diana's secrets stayed hidden.
I closed the journal, my mind racing. If Diana had evidence against the Castellanos, and if that evidence was still out there somewhere, it could be valuable.
Or dangerous.
Probably both.
I called Detective Morrison and told him what I'd found.
"This changes things," he said. "If Diana was murdered, this isn't just about family secrets anymore. It's an unsolved homicide."
"Can you reopen the case?" I asked.
"I can try," Detective Morrison said. "But Anita, you need to understand—investigating the Castellanos is dangerous. Really dangerous. People who cross them tend to disappear."
"I know," I said. "But Diana was family. And if she was murdered, doesn't she deserve justice?"
"Yes," Detective Morrison agreed. "But are you willing to risk your family to get it?"
I didn't have an answer.
That night, I talked to Declan about what I'd discovered.
"This is bigger than we thought," I said. "Diana might have been murdered because of what she knew about the Castellanos. And whatever she knew might still be out there."
"So we have a choice," Declan said. "We can walk away and let Diana's murder go unavenged. Or we can investigate and potentially put our family in the crosshairs of organized crime."
"When you put it that way, the choice seems obvious," I said. "We should walk away."
"Should we?" Declan asked. "You've never walked away from anything in your life. Every time someone has threatened us, you've fought back."
"This is different," I said. "The Castellanos aren't like Victoria or Marcus. They're professionals. They know how to hurt people without getting caught."
"So did Victoria," Declan pointed out. "And Marcus. And everyone else who came after us. We survived them. We can survive this too."
"But should we risk it?" I asked. "We have three kids now. Is justice for Diana worth putting them in danger?"
Declan was quiet for a long moment. "That's not my decision to make. Diana was your family. Whatever you decide, I'll support you."
I spent the whole night thinking about it. By morning, I'd made my decision.
"I'm going to find that safety deposit box," I told Declan. "I'm going to find out what Diana knew. And if the Castellanos killed her, I'm going to make sure they pay for it."
"Okay," Declan said simply. "Then let's do this right. We bring in the FBI, get federal protection, do everything by the book."
"Agreed," I said.
Detective Morrison connected us with an FBI agent who specialized in organized crime. Her name was Agent Rachel Torres, and she was all business.
"The Castellanos have been on our radar for years," she explained. "But we've never been able to make anything stick. They're smart, careful, and they have good lawyers."
"If we find evidence that they killed Diana, could you build a case?" I asked.
"Potentially," Agent Torres said. "But first we need to find that safety deposit box. Do you have any idea where it might be?"
"No," I admitted. "The retired police officer said the trail went cold."
"Let me see what I can dig up," Agent Torres said. "In the meantime, you and your family need to be careful. The Castellanos have a long reach."
Over the next week, Agent Torres worked on tracking down Diana's safety deposit box. Meanwhile, strange things started happening.
A car followed me home from work three days in a row. Someone went through our garbage. The security cameras caught a figure watching our house from across the street.
"They're sending a message," Declan said. "They want us to know they're watching."
"It's working," I admitted. "I'm terrified."
"We can still back out," Declan said. "Tell Agent Torres we changed our minds."
"No," I said firmly. "If I back out now, they win. And I'm tired of letting bad people win."
Finally, Agent Torres called with news.
"I found the safety deposit box," she said. "It's at a bank in New Jersey, registered under Diana's maiden name. But there's a problem."
"What kind of problem?" I asked.
"The box requires two keys to open," Agent Torres explained. "One is with the bank. The other was Diana's personal key, which should have been in her belongings when she died."
"Was it?" I asked.
"No," Agent Torres said. "It was never found. Without that key, we can't access the box without a court order. And getting a court order means alerting the Castellanos that we're investigating."
"So we're stuck," I said.
"Not necessarily," Agent Torres said. "If you can find Diana's key, we can open the box quietly. No court orders, no public records."
"Where would Diana's key be?" I wondered aloud.
"Maybe your mother knows," Declan suggested.
I called my mother and asked if she had any of Diana's belongings.
"A few things," my mother said. "Some jewelry, photo albums. Why?"
"We're looking for a key," I said. "A small key, probably for a safety deposit box."
"I'll look through Diana's things," my mother said. "But Anita, why are you doing this? Why can't you let the past stay in the past?"
"Because Diana deserves justice," I said. "If she was murdered, the people who did it should pay."
"Even if pursuing that justice puts you in danger?" my mother asked.
"Especially then," I said.
My mother found the key two days later. It was hidden inside a locket that had belonged to Diana.
"She always wore this locket," my mother remembered. "I gave it to Sarah after Diana died, but Sarah gave it back to me when she turned eighteen. Said it didn't feel right wearing it when she never knew Diana."
"Can I have it?" I asked.
"Be careful," my mother warned. "Diana died because of whatever's in that box. I don't want the same thing happening to you."
Agent Torres, Declan, and I drove to the bank in New Jersey. We were all nervous, constantly checking to make sure we weren't being followed.
At the bank, Agent Torres presented her credentials and Diana's key. The bank manager verified everything and led us to the vault.
"Box 247," the manager said, using both keys to open it.
Inside was a manila envelope.
Agent Torres carefully removed it and opened it.
Inside were documents. Lots of documents. Financial records, photographs, even what looked like transcripts of phone conversations.
"Diana was documenting Castellano family business," Agent Torres said, flipping through the papers. "Money laundering, tax evasion, even connections to unsolved murders."
"This is enough to bring them down?" I asked.
"This is enough to start a major investigation," Agent Torres confirmed. "Diana was basically building a case against them."
"Why?" Declan asked. "Why would she risk her life doing this?"
At the bottom of the envelope was a letter in Diana's handwriting.
To whoever finds this:
If you're reading this, I'm probably dead. Richard Castellano and his family killed me because I discovered what they really are—criminals hiding behind legitimate business.
I loved Richard once. I was going to marry him. But when I found out what he and his family were doing, I couldn't stay silent. I started documenting everything, planning to go to the police.
But Richard found out. He threatened me, said if I told anyone, he'd hurt my sister and my baby. I'm hiding this evidence somewhere safe, hoping that someday someone brave enough will find it and finish what I started.
My daughter Sarah deserves to know I tried to do the right thing, even though it cost me everything.
Please, whoever you are, make sure the Castellanos pay for what they've done. Not just to me, but to all their victims.
- Diana Lawson
I felt tears streaming down my face as I read the letter.
Diana had been a hero. And she'd been killed for it.
"We're taking this to the federal prosecutor immediately," Agent Torres said. "This is exactly what we need to build a case against the Castellanos."
"What about our safety?" I asked. "The moment they find out we have this evidence, they'll come after us."
"Federal witness protection," Agent Torres said. "All of you. New identities, new location, twenty-four-hour security until the trial is over."
I looked at Declan. "Are you ready for this?"
"Are you?" he asked.
I thought about Diana, about everything she'd sacrificed trying to do the right thing. I thought about all the times people had threatened us, and how we'd always fought back.
"Yes," I said. "Let's finish what Diana started."
But as we left the bank, I saw something that made my blood run cold.
Marco Castellano was standing across the street, watching us.
He smiled and gave me a small wave.
They knew.