Chương 7
Without the uniform jacket, she looked smaller.
“Is she awake?”
“No.”
Hannah opened the refrigerator.
There was nothing in it except bottled water and two tiny cartons of milk.
She took water.
Luca said, “Your hospital bill.”
She froze.
“What about it?”
“I’m paying it.”
“No.”
He looked at her.
She twisted the cap from the bottle.
“No.”
“You went into a river for my daughter.”
“Yes.”
“You were injured.”
“Yes.”
“Because of my daughter.”
“No.”
His eyes narrowed.
Hannah leaned against the counter.
“I was injured because a piece of metal cut me. Sophia didn’t do it.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t make it semantic.”
“Don’t make it debt.”
He stopped.
Hannah drank water.
Luca said, “You think I’m trying to buy you.”
“I think you solve things with money.”
“Money solves many things.”
“Not this.”
“It solves an $8,430 bill.”
Her face changed.
“How do you know the amount?”
“Clare.”
“Clare needs hobbies.”
“She has several. Violating patient confidentiality apparently isn’t one of them, because you told her while she was treating your leg downstairs.”
Hannah looked annoyed.
Then suspicious.
“What exactly did you ask?”
“How injured were you?”
“That’s not your business.”
“My daughter—”
“Your daughter is not a coupon that makes everything my business.”
Luca’s expression went still.
Hannah closed her eyes.
“Sorry.”
“No.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’re right.”
She opened her eyes.
He hated how difficult the next sentence was.
“I have treated her that way.”
Hannah studied him.
“When?”
“Since the accident.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know.”
He looked at the coffee cup.
“If Sophia is involved, I decide I’m entitled to know everything, control everything, fix everything.”
“Parents do that.”
“I do it professionally.”
That drew a reluctant smile from her.
“What profession is that?”
Luca looked at her.
“You know.”
“Everyone knows.”
“Not everyone says it.”
“I’m from Bridgeport.”
He almost smiled.
Hannah twisted the cap back onto her bottle.
“My father used to say there were three things you didn’t discuss with strangers in Chicago. Politics, baseball, and which Moretti was mad at which Marino.”
“My father would have liked him.”
“My father would have hated you.”
“That too.”
They stood in silence.
A refrigerator motor kicked on.
Rain ticked softly against the glass.
Hannah looked through the doorway toward Sophia.
“She remembered more than I thought she would.”
“She remembered you.”
“Children remember strange things.”
“So do adults.”
She glanced at him.
Luca said, “Why didn’t you go to the press?”
Hannah’s face hardened.
“I almost did.”
“What stopped you?”
“The first week? I was sick.”
“And after?”
“I called the police twice. They said my statement was in the file.”
“Then?”
“I tried the foundation.”
“Then?”
“I tried a reporter.”
Luca straightened.
“Who?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes.”
“Everything matters to you.”
“Yes.”
She sighed.
“Dana Kellerman. Channel Seven.”
“What happened?”
“She never called back.”
“Did you speak to her?”
“I left messages.”
“Email?”
“One.”
“When?”
“January.”
Luca’s eyes narrowed.
“Do you still have it?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“I don’t preserve my inbox for federal discovery.”
“You should start.”
“See, that right there is why my father would’ve hated you.”
Luca ignored it.
“Did you tell anyone else about the sedan?”
“My sister. The police. The foundation.”
“Anyone connected to Anthony?”
“No.”
“Anyone connected to me?”
“Your foundation is connected to you.”
“Not the way I mean.”
Hannah looked uncomfortable.
“Someone came to my apartment.”
Luca put down the cup.
“When?”
“December thirty-first.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.”
“Man?”
“Yes.”
“Age?”
“Forties, maybe.”
“Name?”
“He said Daniel.”
“Last name?”
“He didn’t give one.”
“What did he want?”
“He said he was an investigator working for your family.”
Luca’s face emptied.
“I never sent anyone to you.”
“I know that now.”
“What did you tell him?”
Hannah looked toward Sophia.
“That I saw a dark sedan.”
“What else?”
“That I thought it touched the SUV.”
Luca’s pulse slowed in the way it did before violence.
“Did he threaten you?”
“No.”
“Did he ask for anything?”
“He asked if I was certain enough to testify.”
“What did you say?”
“No.”
Luca waited.
Hannah continued.
“I told him I couldn’t swear the cars made contact. He said that was good.”
“Good.”
“His word.”
“What else?”
“He told me accidents attract stories. People convince themselves they saw things. He said the Moretti family had enemies and lawyers, and if I made an accusation without evidence, I could get pulled into something I didn’t understand.”
“And?”
“I asked whether that was a threat.”
“What did he say?”
“He laughed.”
Luca’s hands flattened on the counter.
Hannah watched them.
“He didn’t touch me.”
“That isn’t the standard.”
“I know.”
“What did he look like?”
She described him.
Medium height.
Heavy shoulders.
Broken capillary near the left side of his nose.
Brown hair, thinning at the crown.
Gold wedding band.
A habit of tapping his middle finger twice against his leg before asking a question.
Luca knew the man before she finished.
He did not say the name.
Hannah saw recognition anyway.
“You know him.”
“Yes.”
“Who?”
“Someone who used to work for Anthony.”
Her face changed.
“Used to?”
“His name is Daniel Keefe.”
“What did he do?”
“Security.”
“For you?”
“Years ago.”
“You fired him?”
“Anthony did.”
“Why?”
Luca picked up the paper cup and threw it away.
“Because he stole.”
Hannah stared at him.
“What?”
“Small amounts at first. Fuel reimbursements. Vendor kickbacks. Then bigger.”
“And Anthony fired him.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
Hannah leaned back against the counter.
“So a man Anthony fired showed up at my apartment after Anthony died and told me not to trust what I saw.”
“Yes.”
“Is that bad?”
“Yes.”
“That was sarcasm.”
“I know.”
She rubbed her forehead.
“God.”
Luca took out his phone.
Hannah said, “What are you doing?”
“Calling Vincent.”
“At three fifteen in the morning?”
“He’s awake.”
“How do you know?”
“He works for me.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“It is.”
May you like
She caught his wrist before he dialed.
The contact startled both of them.
