Oddly enough, only Rosenbaum was still alive.
Did Dante think Fred Hamilton was personally responsible for a baby disappearing? Probably not. But Dante was sure one of the three men, if not all of them, had known something.
At the bar, Tom Crawford had said multiple times that some elusivetheyhad taken away his baby. While Dante didn’t consider Crawford a credible source, the consistent phrasing made him wonder if someone had literally taken baby Jane Doe from Tom. If this were the case, it was possible the baby was still alive; maybe still living in York.
Dante looked into Fred Hamilton as much as he could, for someone who was dead. He’d found a man whom everyone seemed to have genuinely liked. Paid all the bills on time, took nothing that wasn’t his, and seemed to be a faithful husband toboot. But he’d been so involved in absolutely everything in town, there was no ruling Fred out as a suspect in connection to the missing baby.
What’s more, it seemed like everyone in town had either gone to school with one of the Hamiltons or had volunteered at Maine Marine Rescue at some point. The non-profit itself had a weird way of pulling anybody new in town into the rescue.
As Dante watched the exchange between Walter and Brooke on the security feed, Dante felt the sense of an old puzzle in an abandoned room slowly coming to life; shaking dust off, shifting around, and making space for missing pieces.
Dante had made a career out of knowing when someone was keeping secrets. He’d made asuccessfulone from figuring them out.
Fred Hamilton may have died three years ago, but Walter St. John was very much alive. Quiet, unassuming Walter, who seemed to know everything about everybody, but somehow moved through existence more or less unnoticed. Walter, who had managed to sneak up on not one but two Lombardis the night Dante and Cesare had been arguing on the dock.
He wondered not for the first time how much Walter knew about Tom Crawford.
A text alert sounded from Dante’s phone, and he checked the device, frowning at the message.
Moonsprite: I need your help
Dante immediately climbed out of the mobile surveillance truck, exiting out of the front driver’s side and jumped on a sleek black vintage motorcycle parked just in front.
Dante: I’m on my way.
Moonsprite: You know where I am?
Dante pocketed the phone without a response. Of course he knew where she was.His hands flexed in anticipation of violence as he revved the motorcycle to life.
With the roar of the engine, Dante sped off into the night with a growl in his chest, looking forward to throwing whatever problems she trusted him with through a fucking wall.
Chapter Thirty-Six
(Sabrina)
Three weeks later
Cesare’s black Tom Ford sunglasses gleamed in the sun as they flew over the Adirondack Mountains in upstate New York.
Sabrina watched the muscles of his forearm flex as he maneuvered the joystick of the helicopter they flew. Cesare's large muscled hands made the joystick look like a toy.
Sabrina bit her lip and looked away, blushing at the thought of what those hands had done to her the night prior.
Cesare gave her a knowing glance, but Sabrina kept her gaze on the scenic mountain ridge below them.
“Look at me.” Cesare spoke, his voice low and smug.
Sabrina shook her head, her heart rate beginning to pick up.
“Did you know your chest flushes red when you blush hard enough?” He grinned.
Sabrina crossed her arms, fighting a smile. “I see nothing to blush about; I’m just looking at trees,”
“Trees?” Cesare raised a brow.
Sabrina hummed. “There’s a lot of them down below.”
Cesare was still dressed in a suit shirt with a blue silk tie from an early morning meeting. He had loosened the tie and rolled his sleeves up, but the shirt was still buttoned and the tie still perfectly knotted.
