Chương 13
Marco returned at that moment carrying a leather ledger case.
He stopped inside the vehicle.
“What happened?”
Donnelly looked at him.
“They have her,” Lorenzo said.
Marco lowered the case.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
Marco turned his face toward the open door. For several seconds, he appeared to study the rain. Then he pressed one fist against his mouth and breathed through it.
Lorenzo had seen Marco break a man’s arm without changing expression. He had seen him identify his own father’s body after a shooting and ask whether the hospital parking ticket needed validation.
Now Marco wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.
“She is alive,” he repeated.
A second report came over the radio.
Dominic had entered the west elevator with a gun. The elevator stopped between floors after the fire-control system engaged. He fired through the doors when agents attempted to open them.
Sophia, bleeding from the shoulder, told officers Dominic carried a remote trigger connected to accelerant containers in the pediatric wing.
The building fire had not been intended only as a distraction.
It was a second attempt to erase evidence.
Donnelly ordered the bomb squad forward and all nonessential teams back.
Lorenzo looked at the building. Smoke curled from a broken window.
“Where is Lucia?”
“Being moved to an armored medical vehicle,” Donnelly said.
“And Sophia?”
“East stairwell. Paramedics are treating her.”
“Get them out.”
“That is what we are doing.”
The tactical commander reported that Dominic was speaking through the elevator doors. He demanded Lorenzo.
“No,” Donnelly said before Lorenzo could respond.
“He has a trigger.”
“We do not put civilians into an active explosive threat.”
“He asked for me.”
“That does not make you useful.”
Lorenzo looked at the map. The elevator was suspended between the first and second floors. A maintenance access panel opened from the first-floor lobby. Agents could hear Dominic moving inside.
“He won’t detonate while he thinks he can still control the outcome,” Lorenzo said.
“You do not know that.”
“I know him.”
“You knew him this morning too.”
The remark struck cleanly.
Donnelly continued, “We have negotiators.”
“He won’t speak honestly to someone he considers powerless.”
“Then he can speak dishonestly until his battery dies.”
A tactical officer reported a clicking sound from the elevator shaft.
The bomb technician believed the trigger might be a dead-man switch rather than a simple remote. If Dominic released pressure, the device could activate.
Lorenzo said, “He needs to believe I’m close enough to die with him.”
Donnelly stared at him. “That is not a plan.”
“No. It’s what he needs.”
“And what do you need?”
“To know Lucia is outside.”
Donnelly received confirmation. The infant had been transferred to a pediatric ambulance. She was dehydrated but responsive. Sophia was being moved toward the same staging area under guard.
Lorenzo held out his hand.
Donnelly did not move.
“Give me a vest,” he said.
“You are not going into that building.”
Marco placed the ledger case on the table. “Agent Donnelly.”
She turned.
“I know Dominic too,” Marco said. “He will not surrender to a federal negotiator. He may surrender to Lorenzo if he believes the family can still be preserved.”
“You are both describing a manipulation, not a safety strategy.”
“Yes,” Marco replied. “Manipulation is what we have.”
Donnelly looked between them.
Finally she ordered Lorenzo searched, fitted with a protective vest, and wired for audio. Two tactical officers escorted him through the east entrance. Marco remained outside under guard.
The medical complex smelled of wet plaster, smoke, and old disinfectant. Sprinklers had activated in one corridor but not another. Water ran beneath abandoned wheelchairs stacked against a wall.
Lorenzo passed the pediatric room where Lucia had been kept. A yellow blanket lay on the floor beside an empty bassinet. On the wall, faded cartoon clouds floated above blue paint.
The blue room.
A bottle warmer still glowed on the counter.
He imagined Sophia entering each night, warming milk while armed men watched. He imagined Emma hiding in the back of a car, clutching her rabbit and following her mother through the alley. He imagined Isabella passing Lucia through smoke into Matteo’s arms, believing she had saved her.
The west lobby was dark except for emergency lights.
The elevator doors were open six inches. The car had stopped four feet above the lobby floor. Dominic’s shoes were visible through the gap.
“Lorenzo?” he called.
“I’m here.”
“Closer.”
Lorenzo stepped past the line marked by the tactical commander.
An officer caught his arm. Lorenzo shook him off.
“I’m alone,” he said.
“You are never alone.”
Dominic sounded tired now. Older than he had at the funeral.
Lorenzo crouched near the doors. “Lucia is safe.”
“You think that means you won.”
“No.”
“You gave the government Isabella’s records.”
“Yes.”
“You gave away your father’s work.”
“My father is not inside this elevator.”
“He built everything you stand on.”
“I’m kneeling.”
Dominic gave a weak laugh.
Through the gap, Lorenzo saw one of his uncle’s hands gripping a small black device. His thumb remained pressed against a red switch. Blood darkened the sleeve of his coat. He had been shot near the ribs.
“You could still fix this,” Dominic said.
“No.”
“Tell them the documents are false. Say Isabella was ill. Say Matteo acted alone.”
“She wasn’t ill.”
“She was afraid.”
“She had reason.”
“She would have destroyed the family.”
“You burned her for accounting records.”
“I tried to frighten her. The fire spread too quickly.”
“You locked the door.”
“To keep her from running into the hall before we removed Lucia.”
“You planned to let her live?”
Dominic did not answer.
Lorenzo pressed his palm against the wet floor.
“What did she say?” he asked.
“When?”
“When you left her behind.”
Dominic shifted inside the elevator.
The device creaked in his grip.
“She asked where the baby was.”
Lorenzo waited.
“She called your name,” Dominic added.
May you like
The words entered him more quietly than he expected.
No vision came. No dramatic reconstruction. Only Isabella’s ordinary voice from their kitchen, asking whether he had moved her keys, whether the sauce needed salt, whether he planned to answer his ringing phone.
