Chapter 56
The property had filled up fast.
Three deputies, two state troopers, and an EMT who kept trying to get Naomi to sit down and kept being ignored. Karen had also shown up.
Each of the people involved with the kidnapping were now zip-tied and separated in the back of different law enforcement vehicles.
Micah stood near the door and listened to his deputy run through what they had.
“They’re not talking,” Deputy Knox said, flipping through his notes. “The man inside is saying it was a kidnapping for ransom. Independent operation. No one hired them.”
“That’s not true,” Micah muttered.
“No, sir. It’s not.” Knox kept his voice neutral. “But without direct evidence connecting them to Dale Harding, we’re going to have a hard time making that case stick.”
“Pull everything on that man the SUV is registered to,” Micah said. “Financial records, known associates, any property connected to it. Dale Harding has been careful, but nobody’s that careful.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And I want the phones. All of them. From every person on this property. I want a warrant for the call logs before the end of the day.”
Knox nodded and moved off.
Micah scanned the room.
Naomi stood a few feet away with Grace against her shoulder. She hadn’t put her down. Micah didn’t expect she would for a while. Good Boy sat beside her, watching the room with quiet intensity, like he’d appointed himself her personal security detail.
Naomi looked pale. The gash at her temple had been cleaned and butterfly-taped by the EMT she’d finally allowed near her, and the headache behind her eyes was visible in the careful way she held herself. She needed a hospital. She needed rest.
She needed about fifteen things she wasn’t going to accept until Grace was settled and the situation was resolved.
Micah understood it, but that didn’t stop him from worrying.
He was about to cross to her when the front door opened.
Gio Moretti stepped inside.
He stood in the doorway, taking in the room with the measured expression of a man who’d calculated his entrance and decided on composed but concerned.
His eyes found Naomi.
Micah watched her face.
Something shifted in her expression. It wasn’t fear or relief.
It was . . . recognition—the kind that meant something had clicked into place.
The memories had been coming in pieces all day.
Fragments. Impressions. The edge of something Naomi couldn’t quite catch.
But when Gio walked through that door and looked at her with that carefully constructed expression of concern, everything had clicked into place at once.
It was like a door that had been stuck for eighteen months finally swinging open.
She was back in New York. Late night at the office, the city glittering beyond the windows. Her own hands moving through quarterly reports, finding the first discrepancy. Then another. Then a pattern that made her stomach drop.
Transfers. Shell companies. Money moving through accounts it had no business being in. Hundreds of thousands of dollars. Maybe more.
Someone at the top of their company was involved.
She’d gone to Gio with the information.
Not only was he a senior partner, but she trusted him. She’d thought he’d know what to do.
He’d listened, appearing surprised.
You’re right to bring this to me. But we can’t say anything yet. Not until we know who we can trust. Let me handle it.
His words had made sense. They didn’t want to jump the gun, as the saying went.
She’d walked home that night feeling relieved.
Then the man in the alley had appeared.
That hadn’t been a random attack, had it?
She’d been targeted for a reason.
She’d been targeted by Gio—because he was the one behind the fraud.
She looked at him now across the room and felt something she hadn’t expected.
Not fear. Not even anger.
Clarity.
She leveled her gaze with his. “I know what you did.”
Something moved across Gio’s face before disappearing. “Naomi, you’ve been through a terrible ordeal today. You’ve hit your head—again. Whatever you think you—”
“I remember everything.” She stared him in the eye.
“The transfers. The shell accounts. I remember going to you with the information.” She took one step toward him.
“You hired that man to attack me and ensure I stayed quiet. He was supposed to kill me so I wouldn’t talk, so your crimes would remain hidden. ”
His gentle expression faltered. “That’s not . . . you can’t possibly think I had anything to do with—”
“Stop denying it, Gio. I know the truth. I know what you did.”
Gio looked at Micah, then back at her.
His expression shifted again. The warmth disappeared, leaving something colder and more calculated. “You’re out of your mind.”
“My guess is that you started hearing rumblings about what was happening with the firm in DC—Marrs and Associates. You started to get nervous. That’s when you started texting me again.
Then I told you I was having some memories.
Then you really got nervous. You had to come here to see what I remembered.
You’re terrified of being caught and spending the rest of your life in prison. ”
Everything suddenly made total sense.
He raised his chin. “You can’t prove any of that.”
“We’ll see about that,” Micah said from beside her.
Panic raced through Gio’s gaze.
“I helped you today.” Gio’s voice sharpened, his composure cracking at the edges. “I followed that SUV. I called you with the address. I found the baby.” He looked at Naomi. “I did that. That has to count for something.”
“It does count,” Naomi murmured. “And I’m glad you did it. But it doesn’t change what happened in New York.”
“You have no evidence—”
“We’ll find it.” Micah stepped forward and grabbed his handcuffs from his belt.
Gio stared at them. Something moved through his expression—disbelief, calculation, the rapid assessment of a man trying to find the angle that might save him.
There wasn’t one.
“Gio Moretti,” Micah said. “You’re under arrest for conspiracy and solicitation to commit murder, among other charges.”
“This isn’t right—” Gio pulled back slightly. “I helped you. I found the baby. You can’t—”
“You helped us today.” Micah moved behind him and brought his hands back. “And that’ll be noted. But it doesn’t change the fact that you tried to have Naomi killed.”
The handcuffs clicked.
Gio said nothing after that.
Naomi looked at him—this man she’d trusted, this man she’d dated, this man who’d sat beside her hospital bed while she’d struggled to remember what he’d done to her.
Getting away from him was one of the smartest decisions she’d ever made.