Chương 4
“Do that.”
“Is this why you’re calling after one in the morning?”
“Yes.”
“A cleaning lady.”
“A missing woman.”
“Same thing to most people.”
Vincent’s gaze settled on the doorway trim. The paint had a shallow notch where, at fourteen, he had measured his height against his older brother’s. His brother had been dead twenty-three years, but the pencil marks remained beneath layers of cream paint.
“Not to her daughter,” Vincent said.
Sal was quiet again.
“What daughter?”
Vincent ended the call.
He remained in the hallway with the phone in his hand.
Sal had answered too quickly, then asked too late.
Dr. Shah arrived twenty minutes later in jeans, a winter coat thrown over blue scrubs, and no patience for the men at the door. She examined Sophie in Teresa’s small downstairs bedroom while Teresa remained beside the bed. Vincent waited outside.
The examination took twelve minutes.
“She has bruising to the shoulder, likely from being pulled or falling,” Dr. Shah said when she emerged. “No obvious fracture, but she needs imaging if the pain worsens. Her hands are bruised and abraded. Mild dehydration. She’s exhausted.”
“Can she sleep?”
“She should sleep.”
“Can you give her something?”
“I can give her children’s acetaminophen. I’m not sedating a seven-year-old because armed men find wakeful children inconvenient.”
Tony looked at the ceiling.
Vincent said, “No one asked you to.”
“You were about to.”
“I was not.”
Dr. Shah held his stare. “She needs law enforcement and child welfare professionals.”
“She went to law enforcement.”
“So she says.”
“So I say.”
“That is not the reassurance you think it is.”
Teresa came out of the room and closed the door. “She heard you arguing.”
“We weren’t arguing,” Vincent said.
Dr. Shah picked up her medical bag. “This is how he communicates affection.”
Teresa nodded. “His father was worse.”
Vincent lowered his voice. “There’s a compromised detective.”
“Then find an uncompromised one,” Dr. Shah said. “You can’t keep a child hidden in a house forever.”
“I don’t intend to.”
“What do you intend?”
He did not answer.
Dr. Shah’s expression tightened. “That’s what worries me.”
After she left, Teresa found an old pair of pajamas in a drawer, pink cotton printed with faded stars. They had belonged to a grandniece who was now in college. Sophie changed behind the closed bedroom door but kept her sneakers on.
Teresa noticed.
“You can put those by the bed.”
“No.”
“They’re wet.”
“No.”
Teresa looked toward Vincent.
He shook his head once.
“Fine,” Teresa said. “But the bedspread is older than both of us, so try not to murder it.”
Sophie climbed beneath the covers wearing the shoes.
Vincent stood near the door. The room had been his mother’s sewing room. A wicker basket still held wooden spools of thread that had not been used since her death. Teresa refused to throw them away.
Sophie pulled the blanket to her chin.
“You’re leaving?”
“For a while.”
“You accepted.”
“I remember.”
“You put the money in your jacket.”
“Yes.”
“Over your heart.”
Vincent touched the outside of the pocket without meaning to.
Sophie’s eyes moved to his hand. “My mom says people put important things there.”
“Your mother says a lot.”
“She talks when she’s nervous.”
“Do you?”
“No.”
He believed her.
“You stay with Teresa,” he said. “Tony will be outside. No one comes in unless he knows them.”
“What about you?”
“I have to speak with someone.”
“Mr. Sal?”
Vincent looked at her.
Sophie turned her face toward the wall. “Gold Teeth said the name twice.”
“Try to sleep.”
“What if I dream about them?”
“Wake up.”
She looked back at him. “That’s stupid.”
“It usually works.”
Her eyelids lowered, though her body remained tight beneath the blanket.
Vincent started to close the door.
“Mr. Torino?”
He waited.
“My mom didn’t steal anything.”
“I didn’t say she did.”
“Somebody will.”
“Then they’ll have to prove it.”
He left the door open three inches.
Marco called at two twelve.
Vincent answered in the living room while Tony stood at the front window, moving one blind aside with a fingertip.
“The apartment was watched,” Marco said. “Gray Impala across the street. Leon followed when it moved. Two men, neither ours.”
“Ours?”
“You know what I mean.”
“What did you find?”
“Door frame was repaired. Cheap job. Bedroom turned over, bathroom dresser moved back. Blood on the lamp base. Not much. They cleaned.”
“Harlan?”
“Neighbor saw a man matching him bring Sophie home yesterday morning. He was inside eight minutes. Building camera hasn’t recorded since Monday.”
“Anything left?”
“A backpack under the bed. School papers. Library book. Some clothes. I took it.”
“What else?”
“Cracker wrappers in the bathroom. Six empty water bottles. A bent toilet chain by the window.”
Vincent looked toward the hallway.
Marco continued. “There was a woman’s bracelet under the radiator. Clasp broken. I left it. Photographed it. We need real police in there before somebody scrubs the rest.”
“Come to the house.”
“There’s more.”
Vincent waited.
“Leon lost the Impala near Queens Boulevard. It pulled into a municipal garage. Gate opened without a ticket.”
“Police?”
“Could be.”
“License?”
“Covered in mud. Deliberately.”
“Come back.”
Vincent ended the call.
Tony let the blind fall into place. “Sal?”
“He knew there was a daughter.”
“You think he ordered it?”
“I think he knew enough not to ask the right questions.”
Tony crossed the room. He had been with Vincent for eleven years, long enough to disagree without pretending he was not doing it.
“This isn’t collections,” he said. “Dario and Gus don’t improvise kidnappings over cleaning invoices.”
“No.”
“So what did Elena see?”
“We’ll ask her.”
Tony’s eyes hardened. “That assumes she’s still alive.”
Vincent looked toward the bedroom door.
Tony followed his gaze and lowered his voice. “I’m not trying to be cruel.”
“You don’t have to try.”
“I’m trying to keep you from making a promise to that kid that gets everybody killed.”
“She paid us.”
May you like
“It was five dollars.”
“It was everything she had.”
