Page 32 of Code Name: Dante

She nodded again. “My grandmother is particularly proud of her homemade marinara sauce. When I asked her where the recipe came from, she initially lied and said from one of her great-grandmothers. Earlier, shortly after the brick incident, she said it was Maria’s.”

I paced, trying to process this new information. “When?” The connection between our families went deeper—differently—than I’d realized, roots tangling together beneath the surface of Gloversville’s history.

“If you mean when were they friends, I don’t know. If you’re referring to when she was given the recipe, it was after Maria died. Gram thinks it might have been from your mother.”

My head snapped up. “I don’t understand.”

“She said it was delivered after someone overheard her saying she missed her mother’s sauce and wished she’d had her write down the recipe.” Lark twisted her hands in her lap in a way that reminded me of my mom. “Alessandro, I think there’s more going on here than Vincent trying to scare us. That he mentioned Gram in court, these connections between our families…”

“You think he knows something we don’t?”

“Not just him. Gram too.” When she looked at me, the firelight caught the tears in her eyes. “About our mothers, maybe. Both of them disappeared. Both families have holes in their histories that no one talks about. It can’t be a coincidence.”

“Maybe I can help,” Alice said, fingers flying over her keyboard. The clicking sound filled the silence. “There has to be a trail somewhere.”

“Gram said your family once owned a compound on Great Sacandaga Lake,” Lark said, moving away from the window to stand near the fire.

“That’s right.” The memory of summer afternoons spent there before everything fell apart rose unbidden. “We used to spend time there when I was a kid.”

“Let’s start there for now. You don’t happen to remember the address, do you? I can find it, but if you know it…” said Alice.

“3 Lake Drive.”

“Got it. Property records show it changed hands in the late nineties, but the buyer’s information is hidden behind shell companies. Twice, actually. Then again in 2011.” She frowned at her screen, the monitor’s light harsh against her face.

“My grandfather died in 1997.”

“That was the first. Then the second time was in 1998.”

That was the year I last saw my mother.

“Anything significant in 2011?” she asked before I could comment, thankfully. I wasn’t ready to think about what the property changing hands then meant, let alone talk about it.

“My father passed away in 2010.”

“That all makes sense, but I’ll keep digging,” Alice said, her expression determined. “There might be a connection we haven’t found yet. Old families are good at hiding things, but data doesn’t lie if you know how to read it.”

I watched Lark pace near the windows, her reflection ghostly against the glass. The lake beyond wasn’t visible anymore except by moonlight, but I could hear the waves lapping at the shore. The peaceful sound felt wrong, given the tension in the room.

“What else is on your mind?” I asked.

“Gram knows more than she’s saying. When I asked certain questions today, she shut down completely.”

“What kind of questions?”

“About the Castellanos. About my mother.” She hugged her waist. “About why your brother seems so focused on destroying what’s left of my family.”

A log shifted in the fireplace, sending sparks up the chimney. The sound made her jump, and I realized how on edge she was. We all were.

“There’s something else,” she added hesitantly. “The guys who came into the shop today? They weren’t just wearing the factory insignias. One of them had a visible tattoo.” She pulled an image up on the screen.

“Interesting,” I muttered, studying it. The design was familiar—a stylized eagle with spread wings, clutching a dagger in its talons. I wasn’t certain, but it looked like the symbol used by the Mazzeos. At one time, they were a rival crime family, but from what I’d heard, the only two sons from Vincent’s and my generation died young. Their father still ran the organization, but there was no one to take over once he was gone.

I remembered Vincent’s satisfied smile in court, how he’d dropped Gram’s name so casually. Like he was waiting for me to put the pieces together. Pieces I couldn’t see yet. If another family was involved, things were more complicated than even Vincent’s usual schemes. Maybe he didn’t have everything in place as well as he thought he did.

“We’ll figure it out,” I promised, though the words felt hollow. How could I protect her from threats I didn’t understand? From secrets I had no idea how to uncover or decipher?

“This might be something—” Alice’s phone buzzed, interrupting whatever she’d been about to say. “Damn. The system locked me out.”

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