Chương 12
Nina brought groceries and pushed past reporters by telling them she was delivering insulin. She was not.
“That is unethical,” Elena said.
“They moved.”
“Still unethical.”
Nina set two bags on the kitchen counter. “You hid an alleged mafia boss under a staircase.”
“Those things are not related.”
“They are in my mind.”
Nina was twenty-four, compact and cheerful in a way that sometimes concealed how quickly she noticed pain. She unpacked eggs, bread, instant noodles, coffee, and a bag of oranges.
“You bought too much.”
“You’re unemployed.”
“I have savings.”
“You have one hundred and eighty-seven dollars.”
Elena stared at her.
“You left your banking app open during lab.”
“That was months ago.”
“You had three hundred then. Rent exists.”
Elena sat at the table.
Nina placed an orange in front of her. “The school will let you retake the exam.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Professor Abel thinks you demonstrated terrible judgment and excellent assessment skills.”
“That sounds like him.”
“He also said the hospital documented that your timeline helped guide treatment.”
“I should have called earlier.”
“Yes.”
Elena looked up.
Nina shrugged. “You want me to tell you that every decision was perfect because the man lived. It wasn’t. He lived anyway. Both facts can exist.”
“Pike said something similar.”
“Is he the guard with the face?”
“They all have faces.”
“The sad one.”
“That does not narrow it down.”
“The one who looks divorced.”
“He is divorced.”
“I knew it.”
Elena peeled the orange. The smell filled the apartment, bright and ordinary. She and Daniel used to eat oranges over the sink because their mother disliked pulp on plates. Elena had not thought of that in years.
Nina sat across from her.
“Are you in love with him?” she asked.
Elena tore the orange in half too hard.
“No.”
“Good.”
“That was quick.”
“He employed you, concealed your brother’s murder, watched you sleep from the corridor, and participates in organized crime.”
“He did not watch me sleep. The door was closed.”
Nina’s eyebrows rose.
“I am correcting the fact, not defending him.”
“Good again.”
Elena ate one section of orange and found it sour.
“What if he meant it?” she asked.
“What?”
“The nights.”
Nina folded the grocery receipt into smaller and smaller squares. “People can mean something and still have no right to ask you to carry it.”
“He did not ask.”
“He handed you a family ring while confessing.”
“It was also a key.”
“That sounds like rich-person symbolism.”
“He said his family stole it.”
“I almost respect that.”
Elena set the orange down.
“I hate him,” she said.
Nina nodded.
“I also keep thinking about whether he’s sleeping.”
“That is because you are a nursing student.”
“I keep thinking about the cut on his lip.”
“Still nursing.”
“I keep hearing him say Daniel’s name.”
“That is grief.”
“And I remember the way he looked at me before the ambulance doors closed.”
Nina stopped folding the receipt.
“That can be whatever it is,” she said. “You do not have to name it while he is in a hospital bed or a holding cell or on the news. You are allowed to wait until your nervous system stops trying to leave through your skin.”
Elena looked at her hands.
The cut from the vial had been closed with two adhesive strips. The ring had left a dark bruise around the base of her thumb.
Waiting sounded passive, but for the first time in two days it felt like a decision.
She met Agent Glass the following week at the federal building in Chicago.
The glass vial contained traces of two substances. One was the sedative Rachel had found in Vale’s briefcase. The second altered how quickly the body processed it, increasing the danger. The water glass carried both. Raphael’s bourbon bottle did not.
Someone had dosed the glass before dinner.
The bloodstained handkerchief provided Vale’s DNA and a partial trace of the same mixture. On its own, that proved little; he had used it on Raphael after the collapse. Combined with Rachel’s photograph, security footage showing Vale near the secondary bar, and messages recovered from Dominic’s phone, it became part of a pattern.
The drive contained more.
Payments to police officers in two counties. Shell companies used to move narcotics and stolen medical supplies. Recordings of Vale threatening witnesses. Dominic approving retaliatory assaults in language vague enough to sound cautious and clear enough to understand. Raphael’s own voice authorizing illegal surveillance, bribery, and the destruction of records.
Daniel’s name appeared in a scanned report marked CLOSED—TRAFFIC.
Agent Glass placed a copy before Elena.
She read four lines and pushed it away.
“Not now.”
Glass covered it with a folder.
“Raphael told us about the medal,” the agent said. “It was in the envelope with a letter addressed to you.”
“I don’t want the letter.”
“You do not have to read it.”
“Is the medal evidence?”
“Temporarily.”
“Then keep it until it isn’t.”
Glass folded her hands. “Mr. Orsini has agreed to plead guilty to several federal charges and testify regarding additional cases. State prosecutors are reviewing Daniel’s death.”
“How long will Raphael go to prison?”
“Sentencing has not occurred.”
“Approximately.”
“I won’t guess.”
Elena looked through the office window at the gray river between buildings.
“Will cooperation reduce his sentence?”
“Almost certainly.”
“So he benefits.”
“He also provides evidence we did not have.”
“That was not my question.”
“No. It was not.”
Glass had a patient way of refusing false simplicity.
“What happens to Vale?” Elena asked.
“He has counsel. He denies poisoning Raphael and denies involvement in Daniel’s death.”
“Dominic?”
“His counsel says he was coerced by both men.”
“Pike?”
“Mr. Pike has entered a cooperation agreement concerning security operations. His own conduct remains under review.”
“Rachel?”
“Still an attorney. Probably more tired than before.”
Elena touched the closed folder.
“My school thinks I may have violated professional boundaries.”
“You were not functioning as a licensed professional.”
May you like
“They think that may be worse.”
Glass leaned back. “Do you want me to write a letter?”
