She had decorated the living room with photographs of her mother.
There were no photographs of her father.
Not because she had forgotten him.
Because the only picture she possessed had been taken when she was three years old, and she could barely remember the man's face.
She locked the door.
Then she checked the chain.
She placed her coat over a chair and washed her hands.
The recorder remained in her pocket.
She had not given it to Alessandro.
She had only played the first recording.
There were three others.
Her father had made them during the final weeks of his life.
The second contained a list of bank accounts.
The third contained the names of the men who had helped Vincent.
The fourth was different.
Her mother had refused to let her listen to it until she turned eighteen.
Even then, Sofia had insisted that Elena should only hear it if somebody from the Moretti family ever found her.
Elena had never understood why.
Now she did.
She took the recorder from her pocket.
The battery indicator was almost empty.
She connected it to an old charger.
Then she sat on the edge of her bed and opened the drawer beneath her bedside table.
Inside was a small envelope.
Her mother's handwriting appeared across the front.
FOR ELENA. ONLY WHEN THE TRUTH FINALLY FINDS YOU.
Elena opened it.
There was a photograph.
It showed a younger Alessandro Moretti standing beside Sofia outside a church.
They were smiling.
Behind them stood Daniel Rossi.
And between Sofia and Alessandro was a little girl.
Elena.
She stared at the photograph.
Her mother had never told her that Alessandro knew her when she was a child.
She turned the photograph over.
Three words had been written on the back.
HE KNOWS EVERYTHING.
Elena's hands became cold.
What had her mother meant?
Had Alessandro known about her?
Had he known where Daniel was?
Had he been responsible for the disappearance?
A sound came from the hallway.
Footsteps.
She looked toward the door.
Someone stopped outside.
Then came three knocks.
Not loud.
Not impatient.
Three measured knocks.
Elena stood.
"Who is it?"
No answer.
She moved toward the door but did not open it.
Then her phone rang.
An unknown number.
She answered.
"Hello?"
A man's voice spoke.
"Miss Rossi?"
"Who is this?"
"You need to leave your apartment."
Elena recognized the voice.
Matteo.
"How did you get my number?"
"That doesn't matter."
"Why are you calling?"
"Because someone is outside your door."
Elena looked toward the hallway.
"Who?"
"I don't know yet."
The footsteps moved.
A shadow passed beneath the door.
Matteo's voice became urgent.
"Listen to me carefully. Don't open that door."
Elena stepped backward.
"Is this another one of your father's games?"
"No."
"How am I supposed to trust you?"
"You shouldn't."
The answer surprised her.
Matteo continued.
"But you should trust the fact that I have no reason to let somebody kill you tonight."
A loud impact struck the door.
Elena gasped.
"Matteo!"
"Get away from the entrance!"
Another impact.
The wooden frame cracked.
Elena ran toward the kitchen.
She heard the door splinter.
A man entered.
"Check the bedroom!"
She covered her mouth.
The apartment was small.
There was nowhere to hide.
She opened the kitchen window.
It led to a narrow metal fire escape.
Outside, the rain was still falling.
She climbed through.
Her shoes slipped against the wet metal.
Behind her, a man shouted.
"There!"
Elena ran.
The fire escape shook beneath her weight.
She descended two levels before reaching a platform connected to the neighboring building.
Her phone was still in her hand.
"Matteo!"
"I'm here."
"They're inside!"
"Keep moving. There should be a staircase on your left."
She found it.
"Where does it go?"
"To the parking area."
She descended as quickly as she could.
A black sedan was waiting near the entrance.
Matteo stood beside it.
Two armed men were positioned behind him.
When Elena reached the bottom, he opened the passenger door.
"Get in."
She hesitated.
"Who are those men?"
"People who work for me."
"That's not reassuring."
"I know."
A gunshot echoed from the building.
Matteo pushed her behind the car.
One of his men returned fire toward the entrance.
Elena dropped to the ground.
Matteo crouched beside her.
"Are you hurt?"
She shook her head.
"Get me out of here."
He nodded.
They climbed into the sedan.
The driver accelerated before the doors were fully closed.
Elena looked back.
Two men emerged from the apartment building.
One held a pistol.
The other was carrying a small black bag.
Matteo spoke into his phone.
"Lock down the building. Nobody touches the apartment until I get there."
He ended the call.
Elena looked at him.
"Who sent them?"
"Someone who knows about the recorder."
She stared at him.
"How?"
Matteo turned toward her.
"Because there is another person who knows about your father."
"Who?"
"My mother."
Elena frowned.
"Your mother is dead."
"Yes."
"Then what are you talking about?"
Matteo looked out the window.
"Before she died, she left a letter for me. I found it three months ago."
He reached into his jacket and removed a folded sheet of paper.
"I didn't understand it at the time."
He handed it to her.
The letter was written in elegant handwriting.
Matteo recognized his mother's voice even through the paper.