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Daniel looked at me strangely. “Where do you think I learned to keep mine?”
“We need to speak with him. Now.”
* * *
At a little before four a.m.,Daniel and I walked hand in hand into Donato’s penthouse. A woman in a long silk nightgown greeted us, her expression way too pleasant for the time of day.
She threw herself at Daniel, small arms latching around his waist. After the initial shock, he returned her embrace.
“I can’t believe what you did.” She touched his cheek. “You tenderhearted boy.”
My brows shot to my hairline. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was his mother.
Before he had a chance to speak, she turned her attention to me. Dark chocolate eyes shone as she beamed at me. The woman reached for my hand.
“She’s perfect,” she said to Daniel. I glanced to him for any sort of clue, but he seemed as frozen as I was. “Thank you for loving my boy.”
A barely audible gasp escaped Daniel. He touched my back as if he needed the support.
“Valentina. Let them in. We have business.” The distinguished man strode up to the woman and kissed her hair, softening the tone of his words.
He wore a black button-down shirt open at the collar and dark gray slacks. It was impossible to tell if he’d been up all night or was already dressed for the day.
“This is Vivian,” Daniel said hoarsely.
A few tears slipped down Valentina’s cheeks. She kissed both of mine. “I’m so happy to finally meet you, bella.”
“I’m sorry it had to be at this ungodly hour.”
She laughed, lines creasing the olive skin around her eyes. “Coffee will help.”
Donato led Daniel and me to his office while Valentina forked off in a different direction. He rounded his desk and handed Daniel a folder before we sat.
I peered over Daniel’s arm as he opened it. “You found the passport application? And it’s date-stamped?” I asked incredulously, eyeing Donato like he was a miracle worker.
Valentina swept into the room with a tray of coffee and muffins. She placed it on Donato’s desk next to a worn out copy ofThe Art of War, setting a mug and a plate in front of him.
“I wasn’t sure how you take yours,” she said as she passed me a hot cup along with sugar and cream.
She gave Daniel his straight black, just as he liked it.
We murmured our thanks and settled in. I blew on the steaming liquid and took a sip. “Any chance you’ve got a spare copy of the autopsy report around here?” I waved my hand around the space, and Donato’s eyes lit.
“You mean this?” Daniel had yet to stop poring over the contents of the folder. He handed me the papers inside.
Yep, miracle worker. I scanned the autopsy report until I found what I was looking for. Setting the coffee mug down, I leapt from my chair and shook the paper at Daniel.
“This is it! This will keep you both out of prison.” I pointed at the time of death until I nearly stabbed a hole in the paper.
Daniel snatched it out of my hand. “This says the time of death was between 3:00p.m. and 4:00p.m.”
His eyes lasered into Donato’s. “I can’t argue with a government issued document.”
I grabbed the folder from Daniel. “The parking receipt says you entered the garage at 3:08 and left at 4:37. The passport application is stamped at 4:25p.m.” I clutched Daniel’s arm. “If you were at the passport office together, there’s no way either of you could have killed your father.” Daniel remained stoic, but I saw the glimmer of guarded hope in his eyes. “I confessed. How do I walk that back?”
Donato could see it. “She’s right. The documents prove we were both at the passport office that day. Who’s to say we didn’t arrive together? Now we both have a concrete alibi. All anyone needs to know is that I was falsely accused, and you confessed to protect me.”
“False confession is still a crime,” Daniel pointed out, glazing over Donato’s remorse.
