Chương 9
Reed stood so quickly that her chair scraped the floor.
Teresa appeared from the hallway. “Nobody raises their voice in this house unless there is a fire.”
Reed turned toward her. “Mrs. Romano, this man is obstructing an investigation.”
“Miss Romano. My husbands are dead and no longer entitled to make my life sound married.”
Reed stared.
Teresa pointed toward the living room. “You may speak to the girl where I can see you. No guns. No tricks. No words a child shouldn’t have to understand.”
Reed glanced at Vincent.
“This is not your decision,” he said. “Apparently.”
Sophie sat on the couch with her feet tucked beneath her. She had put the left sneaker back on, though the insole remained loose. Reed placed her badge on the coffee table rather than holding it up.
“My name is Mara.”
“I know. They said it a lot.”
“I’m a detective.”
“So was Harlan.”
Reed accepted that without flinching. “Yes.”
“Are you afraid of him?”
“No.”
“Are you afraid of Mr. Sal?”
“No.”
“Are you afraid of Mr. Torino?”
Reed looked across the room at Vincent.
“Sometimes,” she said.
Sophie considered this answer.
“Why?”
“Because people with power can hurt others even when they tell themselves they’re helping.”
Vincent felt Tony turn toward him.
Sophie looked at Vincent too. “He accepted the job.”
“I heard.”
“I paid him.”
“With five dollars?”
“How do you know?”
“Detectives ask questions.”
“You didn’t ask me.”
Reed’s mouth shifted at one corner. “You’re right.”
She asked permission before beginning again.
Sophie described the abduction with fewer details than she had given Vincent. When Reed asked about Harlan, Sophie’s voice became harder. She remembered the smell of peppermint on his breath, the silver watch on his left wrist, and the fact that his car had a broken air vent. She remembered him calling someone from her mother’s bedroom.
“Did you hear the person’s name?” Reed asked.
“No.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“He said, ‘She came to the mob guy.’”
Vincent’s eyes narrowed.
“When was this?” Reed asked.
“Before he left.”
“You hadn’t come to Mr. Torino yet.”
Sophie nodded. “I told the lady at the desk I was going to Bella Vista if they didn’t help.”
Harlan had known where she would go.
Reed’s gaze shifted to the windows.
“Your watchers,” Vincent said. “Call them.”
She did.
Harlan was gone.
He had left his apartment through a service entrance forty-three minutes earlier, abandoning his department phone on the kitchen counter.
Sal called Vincent before Reed finished the conversation.
The number was blocked.
Vincent answered on speaker.
“Vin,” Sal said. “You’ve had an active morning.”
No one moved.
“Where is Elena?” Vincent asked.
“You always skip breakfast when you’re angry. Bad for the stomach.”
“Where is she?”
“Alive.”
Sophie stood in the living room doorway.
Vincent wished Teresa had kept her away, but the child was already there, staring at the phone.
Sal continued. “She’s stubborn. I understand why the daughter has been difficult.”
“What do you want?”
“The card.”
“What card?”
Sal laughed softly. “This is why we’ve lasted so long. Neither of us insults the other by pretending too hard.”
“Let me speak to Elena.”
“I can do better.”
There was movement on the line. A scrape. A breath.
Then a woman’s voice.
“Sophie?”
The child crossed the room before anyone could stop her.
“Mom!”
Elena inhaled sharply. “Baby, listen to me. Don’t tell them—”
A blow sounded. Not loud. The phone shifted.
Sophie covered her mouth with both hands.
Vincent’s entire body went still.
Sal returned. “She’s alive. She stays that way if I get the original card by eight tonight.”
“Where?”
“I’ll call at seven.”
“Let me hear her again.”
“You heard enough.”
“If you touch her again—”
“Vincent.” Sal’s warmth disappeared. “You don’t get to be offended. Every truck moved under your name. Every payment passed through your company. You built the roof. I rented a room.”
The line went dead.
The silence afterward was broken by Sophie’s breathing.
Vincent’s thumb had stopped against the edge of the table.
Reed picked up the phone and looked at the call screen. “We may be able to trace—”
“No,” Sophie said.
Everyone turned.
Tears stood in her eyes, but her voice remained controlled.
“He hit her because of me.”
“No,” Reed said. “He hit her because he chose to.”
“I talked.”
“He wanted you to.”
“I shouldn’t have.”
Vincent crossed the room and crouched to her eye level.
She looked at him with naked accusation. “You put it on speaker.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he might hurt her.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed everyone to hear what he said.”
Her face twisted, not into tears but disgust.
“You used her.”
The truth entered cleanly.
Vincent did not defend himself.
“Yes,” he said.
Tony looked away.
Sophie struck Vincent in the chest with both hands. The blow had little force. She hit him again, directly over the pocket containing the five-dollar bill.
“You’re supposed to save her.”
Vincent remained crouched.
Teresa approached, but he raised one hand.
Sophie’s fists stayed against his suit. Her bruised knuckles trembled.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
It was not a sentence he used often. The words sounded incomplete even to him.
Sophie stepped back.
“I don’t want you to be sorry.”
“What do you want?”
“My mom.”
Vincent stood.
“Then that’s what we do next.”
The call had lasted too briefly for a reliable trace, but Brennan narrowed the signal to a group of towers near the Brooklyn waterfront. Marco found three facilities linked to Fresh Harbor Seafood’s former owners. One was demolished. One had become a furniture warehouse. The third was an old refrigerated distribution building near Newtown Creek.
May you like
Reed requested emergency support without identifying Vincent’s involvement. Her supervisor wanted more verification. The trafficking files were substantial but had not yet been authenticated, and the kidnapping call had come through a masked service. Harlan’s disappearance complicated everything without proving where he had gone.
Procedure moved at the speed of people afraid of being blamed later.
