Chương 3
I stepped closer to the bed.
“Is David alive?”
Alessandro’s eyes returned to mine.
“I don’t know.”
The words hollowed out the room.
I wanted certainty, even terrible certainty.
Instead, he gave me something worse.
A possibility.
“What happened?”
“Sixteen months ago, David disappeared.”
“From where?”
“A safe house.”
“Who took him?”
“We never found out.”
I looked at the wedding ring again.
“You said you took this off him.”
“The night before.”
“Why?”
“He thought he was being followed.”
“By whom?”
“He wouldn’t say.”
Anger surged through the shock.
“You expect me to believe David vanished after faking his death, secretly working for organized crime, and nobody knows anything?”
Marco muttered, “We know something.”
Alessandro turned his head toward him.
The look between them lasted less than a second.
I saw it anyway.
“What?”
Marco said nothing.
“What do you know?”
Alessandro’s jaw tightened.
Dr. Patel stepped closer again.
“Mr. Romano, your blood pressure is dropping.”
I pointed at Marco.
“He started to say something.”
“Catherine,” Alessandro said.
“No.”
My voice shook now, and I hated it.
“You do not get to say my name like we know each other.”
His face went still.
“We don’t.”
“You knew my husband.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he had a son.”
“Yes.”
“And for two years, you let me think he was dead.”
“Yes.”
Every answer was quiet.
No excuses.
That made me angrier.
I shoved the evidence bag into my pocket.
Marco moved.
Alessandro stopped him with two fingers.
“Let her keep it.”
“What do you know?” I asked again.
Alessandro’s pulse alarm began sounding.
Dr. Patel swore and reached for the IV line.
This time the guards did not interfere.
Alessandro’s eyes stayed on mine while nurses closed around him.
His lips moved.
I leaned closer.
“What?”
He swallowed.
“The man who arranged David’s death certificate.”
My skin prickled.
“What about him?”
Alessandro’s eyes began to close.
Marco stepped between us as Dr. Patel ordered me away from the bed.
I caught the rail with both hands.
“Who was he?”
Alessandro forced his eyes open one last time.
“He signed in tonight.”
I stopped fighting Marco.
“What?”
Alessandro looked toward the locked door.
“He’s inside this hospital.”
For one stupid second, I looked at the door as if the man might be standing on the other side with a clipboard and a visitor badge.
Marco was already moving.
He touched two fingers to an earpiece I had not noticed before and said, “Lock the floor.”
The order traveled faster than panic.
Men stationed in the hallway shifted positions, a security door thudded shut somewhere beyond the nurses’ station, and somebody began arguing loudly about fire code.
Dr. Patel pushed Marco aside.
“You cannot lock down my unit.”
Marco did not even look at him.
“Nobody leaves.”
“You have patients here.”
“Nobody leaves.”
“They’re already coming.”
“Good.”
Marco finally faced him.
“They won’t be the only ones.”
Dr. Patel’s jaw tightened.
I stared at Alessandro.
“Who signed in?”
His eyes had closed again.
The monitor was still unstable, and a nurse was squeezing medication into his IV while muttering numbers to the doctor.
“Alessandro.”
Nothing.
“Who?”
Marco stepped in front of me.
“You need to take your son and go.”
I almost laughed.
Five minutes earlier these men had locked me in the room.
Now they wanted me gone.
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“You just told me the man who helped fake my husband’s death is in this hospital.”
“I didn’t tell you anything.”
“You were standing three feet away.”
“Then forget it.”
I stepped closer to him.
Marco was at least six inches taller than I was and built like someone who had never been required to squeeze behind a housekeeping cart, but exhaustion had removed whatever part of me normally calculated danger.
“I have spent two years explaining to my son why his father is dead.”
His eyes flicked toward the door.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t.”
He looked back at me.
“I know more than you think.”
That stopped me.
Before I could ask what he meant, Dr. Patel snapped, “Everybody except essential medical personnel, out.”
Marco ignored him.
“Mr. Romano needs surgery again.”
Dr. Patel pointed to the monitor.
“He has internal bleeding, his pressure is falling, and if you turn this into a hostage situation, he is going to die while you people argue about hallways.”
Marco’s face changed.
Not fear exactly.
Something more private.
He turned toward Alessandro.
That was the first time I understood that whatever these men were to the rest of Baltimore, they were not standing around a crime boss.
They were standing around someone they loved.
Alessandro opened his eyes.
“Catherine.”
I went to the bed.
Dr. Patel made an exasperated sound but did not stop me.
“The name,” I said.
Alessandro’s lips barely moved.
“Elliot Vance.”
I waited.
The name meant nothing.
“Who is that?”
“Former federal task force.”
“Former what?”
“Financial crimes.”
His breath caught.
“He recruited David.”
My hand tightened around the rail.
“And he is here?”
“Guest log.”
Marco said, “We haven’t confirmed it’s him.”
Alessandro looked at him.
Marco corrected himself.
“We confirmed the name.”
“Could be fake,” I said.
“Yes.”
“Could be someone else.”
“Yes.”
“Why would he use his real name if he helped fake a death certificate?”
Marco’s mouth flattened.
“That’s the first intelligent question anyone’s asked in ten minutes.”
I glared at him.
“Congratulations on having standards.”
Something almost like approval moved across his face.
Then it vanished.
Alessandro whispered, “Because he wants us to know.”
The nurse looked at Dr. Patel.
“Pressure’s eighty over forty-six.”
Dr. Patel swore.
He looked directly at Alessandro.
“If you want to continue being intimidating, I strongly recommend surviving the next hour.”
Alessandro gave the faintest nod.
They began preparing to move him.
I stepped back as the bed rails came up and tubes were gathered.
Marco followed the gurney toward the door, then stopped.
May you like
He looked at me.
“Stay with your son.”
