Chương 7
A man stood beside it with his hands visible.
Late forties.
Baseball cap.
Gray jacket.
Ordinary face.
That frightened me.
I had expected a monster.
He looked like someone who would ask whether a grocery line was open.
As we passed, he turned his head.
Our eyes met through the rain.
Recognition flashed across his face.
He knew me.
I twisted in my seat.
“Stop.”
Dominic kept driving.
“Police can deal with him.”
“Stop the car.”
“No.”
“I need to see the photograph.”
“You need to get to your mother.”
I slammed my palm against the dashboard.
“Stop telling me what I need.”
He looked at me then.
Just for a second.
“You need both.”
His voice was rough.
“But we only have time for one.”
I stared ahead.
The gates disappeared behind us.
My phone stayed dark in my hand.
I tried Mom again.
Voicemail.
Dominic drove faster.
Not recklessly.
Just fast enough that every curve reminded me how far Lake Forest was from Cicero.
I pressed my forehead against the cold window.
After several minutes, Dominic spoke.
“My uncle’s name was Vincent Moretti.”
I turned toward him.
He kept his eyes on the road.
“He owned a financing company.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he loaned money to businesses that banks wouldn’t touch.”
“That sounds generous.”
“It wasn’t.”
The wipers beat back and forth.
“He financed warehouses.”
I waited.
“The Archer property was one of them.”
“So Vanessa was right.”
“About that.”
“What else?”
“I don’t know.”
I studied his profile.
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
That answer surprised me.
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel.
“My father kept me out of Vincent’s records when I was younger.”
“Why?”
“Because Vincent wasn’t someone you learned business from.”
“What was he?”
Dominic was quiet for several seconds.
“Someone people learned fear from.”
I looked back at the black road.
“My father died eight years ago.”
“I heard you.”
“The warehouse existed then?”
“Yes.”
“And your family had money in it.”
“Yes.”
I laughed once.
It sounded ugly.
“You tipped me a hundred dollars the first night.”
He glanced at me.
“What?”
“You remember?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Vanessa left you outside in freezing rain.”
“That’s all?”
He looked offended.
“Should there be more?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
He nodded once.
“Fair.”
My phone rang.
I almost dropped it.
Mom’s name filled the screen.
I answered so fast my thumb slipped.
“Mom?”
Breathing.
Then her voice.
“Avery?”
I closed my eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Why didn’t you answer?”
“My phone fell behind the couch.”
I laughed.
Then I covered my mouth because the laugh was turning into something else.
Dominic looked over.
I shook my head.
Mom continued.
“You sound worse.”
“I’m coming home.”
“Did you get crackers?”
I stared at the rain on the windshield.
“No.”
A pause.
“Well.”
She sighed.
“This family is falling apart.”
“That’s your emergency conclusion?”
“It’s three in the morning somewhere.”
“It’s ten-thirty.”
“Exactly.”
Her voice sounded steadier now.
I pressed the heel of my hand against my forehead.
“Lock the door.”
“It is locked.”
“Check it.”
“Avery.”
“Please.”
There was a pause.
Then I heard the scrape of her chair.
A few seconds later, metal clicked softly through the phone.
“Locked.”
“Chain too?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t open it for anyone.”
“Are you in trouble?”
I looked at Dominic.
Streetlights moved across his face as we reached the expressway.
“I don’t know.”
“That means yes.”
“I’m ten minutes out.”
“You said Lake Forest.”
“I left.”
“Ten minutes?”
I checked the navigation screen.
Twenty-seven.
“Fine.”
Mom sighed.
“Avery.”
“I’ll explain when I get there.”
“You always say that when you don’t want to explain anything.”
“Tonight I mean it.”
She was quiet for a moment.
Then she said, “All right.”
“Stay on the phone.”
“I have to use the bathroom.”
“Take the phone.”
“You want me to narrate?”
“Mom.”
“Fine.”
Dominic looked out his side window.
His mouth twitched.
I glared at him.
He raised one hand without taking the other off the wheel.
“I didn’t say anything.”
Mom said, “Who’s there?”
“Nobody.”
Dominic looked at me.
I looked away.
Mom caught it anyway.
“You’re with someone.”
“A driver.”
“A man?”
“Mom.”
“What?”
She sounded offended.
“I still understand categories.”
I almost told her his name.
Something stopped me.
Not distrust exactly.
Instinct.
The less Mom knew until I understood what was happening, the less she could accidentally reveal if someone questioned her.
That thought made my stomach turn.
“I’ll be there soon.”
She grumbled about being supervised in her own bathroom and ended the call.
I watched the screen go dark.
Dominic drove in silence for another mile.
Then he said, “She sounds tough.”
“She’s tired.”
“Both can be true.”
I looked at him.
“That line work on people?”
“What line?”
“The thoughtful billionaire thing.”
He actually laughed.
It was brief.
“Not usually.”
“Good.”
“Usually they’re more impressed by the house.”
“I hate your house.”
“Also fair.”
The normality of the exchange irritated me.
My father might have died because of people connected to his family.
Someone had followed me to Mom’s dialysis clinic.
There might be a man sitting in a black SUV with her photograph.
And Dominic Moretti was making dry jokes while driving my rusted sedan through the rain.
I wanted the world to stay appropriately terrible.
Instead a truck passed us and sprayed water across the windshield.
The defroster whined.
My plastic-covered passenger window rattled.
Dominic glanced toward it.
“Does that always do that?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Since February.”
“It’s August.”
“Excellent calendar skills.”
He looked at me.
“You know you could replace the regulator.”
“With what money?”
He went quiet.
That made me angrier than if he had offered to pay.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was about to ask what model year this is.”
“Why?”
“So I can stop being surprised it’s still moving.”
I stared at him.
He smiled faintly.
“Sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
May you like
“No.”
That answer almost made me laugh.
