Chương 4
Elena laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
"I did."
Vincent went still.
"I went to the restaurant on Mulberry."
The room seemed to lose sound.
"You weren't there."
"Who was?"
"Your uncle."
Carlo.
Vincent's jaw tightened.
"He told me you didn't want to see me."
Elena watched his face carefully.
"He said you'd already made that clear."
"What did you tell him?"
"That I was pregnant."
Vincent's hand closed slowly at his side.
At the kitchen table, Sophie hummed to herself.
Elena continued.
"He asked how far along."
"Did he touch you?"
"No."
"Threaten you?"
"Not directly."
"Elena."
"He didn't have to."
Carlo Moretti had rarely threatened anyone directly.
He preferred implication because implication could not be quoted in court.
"He said you were taking control of the family and that certain complications could make you vulnerable."
Vincent felt something cold settle beneath his ribs.
"What else?"
"He gave me an envelope."
"Money."
"Twenty thousand dollars."
"Did you take it?"
Elena's stare hardened.
"Yes."
The answer surprised him.
She saw that.
"I had no insurance."
Her voice was flat.
"I had already missed work because I was throwing up every morning."
She pointed toward the stack of envelopes on the table.
"Pride is expensive."
Vincent swallowed.
"What did Carlo tell you the money was for?"
"To disappear."
"And you did."
"I tried not to."
Something in her voice cracked.
She looked toward Sophie and waited until her daughter bent closer over the coloring book.
"I called you eleven times."
Vincent remembered none of them.
"Your number had changed."
"It had."
"I mailed a letter to the house in Brooklyn."
Vincent stared at her.
"What letter?"
"The one where I told you."
"I never got it."
"I figured."
"When?"
"Eventually."
"How?"
"Because I saw you on television six months later."
He almost asked why that mattered.
Then he remembered the interview.
A reporter outside federal court.
Vincent denying involvement in a labor-racketeering investigation.
He had been surrounded by attorneys.
Behind him, Carlo had stood smiling.
"He told you I knew," Vincent said.
Elena nodded.
"He said you'd read the letter and wanted nothing to do with the baby."
Vincent looked away.
A cheap wall clock ticked above the television.
He had not heard a clock that loud in years.
"Why believe him?"
Elena stared at him.
"Because of the last thing you said to me."
The old sentence returned whole.
You were entertainment.
Nothing more.
Vincent's mouth tasted metallic.
"I said that to make you leave."
"I left."
"Because someone shot at you."
"I know why you did it now."
"Now?"
"Years later."
He looked back.
Elena's expression was exhausted rather than angry.
"At the time, I believed you."
That landed harder than anger would have.
Sophie suddenly held up her page.
"Mom, look."
Elena turned immediately.
"It's beautiful."
"It's us at the zoo."
Vincent saw three figures on the paper.
One was clearly Sophie.
One had brown hair and a gray sweatshirt.
The third was tall, dressed entirely in black, with a square body and enormous arms.
Vincent pointed.
"Who's that?"
"Mr. Chen."
He had no reason to feel disappointed.
He did anyway.
"Who's Mr. Chen?"
"Our downstairs neighbor."
"He makes soup," Sophie said.
"And complains about the Yankees."
"He says they ruined baseball."
Elena's mouth twitched.
"Mr. Chen says that every year."
Vincent sat in the chair across from the couch.
He had not been invited.
Elena noticed but didn't tell him to get up.
"What happened to Carlo?" she asked.
"Dead."
Her face changed.
"When?"
"Four years ago."
"How?"
"Stroke."
For once, violence had nothing to do with it.
Vincent had stood beside Carlo's hospital bed while the old man lost the ability to speak.
He had mistaken that silence for peace.
Now it looked different.
"Did he tell anyone?" Vincent asked.
"About Sophie?"
Elena shook her head.
"Not that I know."
"What name is on the birth certificate?"
"Mine."
"No father?"
"No."
Vincent's throat tightened.
"Why?"
Elena looked toward Sophie again.
"Because I didn't know what putting your name there would do."
"To her?"
"To us."
That answer he could not argue with.
Outside, a delivery truck leaned on its horn.
Somewhere upstairs, a dog began barking.
Sophie switched from purple to green.
Ordinary sounds continued around the fact that Vincent had a daughter.
He tried the words silently.
My daughter.
They did not fit yet.
They frightened him more than any threat he'd received in twenty years.
"When were you going to tell her about me?"
Elena's gaze turned cold.
"Who says I was?"
"She deserves to know."
"She deserves to be safe."
"I can keep her safe."
Elena laughed softly.
"That's what you said about me."
He flinched.
She saw it and immediately looked ashamed.
Not sorry.
Just tired of having hit the target.
Vincent leaned forward.
"I won't pretend I have any right to walk in here and decide things."
"Good."
"But I need a test."
"No."
"Elena."
"No."
"Why?"
"Because the second there is paperwork, there is a record."
"There are private labs."
"Your definition of private and mine are not the same."
He could not argue with that either.
She pressed her fingers against her temple.
"What happens if she's yours?"
Vincent answered too quickly.
"I take care of her."
Elena's eyes sharpened.
"Meaning what?"
"Whatever she needs."
"Money?"
"Yes."
"Security?"
"Yes."
"A better apartment?"
"If you want one."
"A better school?"
"If—"
"See?"
Her voice rose enough that Sophie looked over.
Elena lowered it immediately.
"You're already rearranging our lives."
Vincent sat back.
"I said if."
"You don't know how to say if."
That nearly made him smile because it was true.
He kept his face still.
Elena's breathing had become shallow again.
"You need to rest."
"You need to leave."
"Sophie saved my life."
"She called 911."
"Nobody else did."
"Don't make her into something she isn't."
"What do you mean?"
"She is six."
May you like
Elena's voice broke.
"She is not brave because she should have to be brave."
