Chương 6
“We reached the aunt,” Denise said. “She’s on her way.”
Sophie stopped in front of Vincent.
“Can I see Mama?”
“Not yet,” Denise said.
Sophie kept looking at Vincent.
He felt the trap of that trust. If he spoke gently, she would hear a promise. If he spoke honestly, he might break what little steadiness she had left.
“The doctors are working,” he said.
“Is she going to die?”
Tony lowered his eyes.
Denise stepped closer, but Sophie did not turn toward her.
Vincent pulled out the chair beside him.
She sat.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Her lower lip moved.
“People keep saying that.”
“Because it’s true.”
“You’re supposed to know things.”
“Who told you that?”
“Mama.”
Vincent looked toward the operating room doors.
“What exactly did she say?”
“That if something bad happened, I should find you.”
“Why?”
“She said you were dangerous, but you had rules.”
Tony shifted in his chair.
Denise watched Vincent carefully.
“What rules?”
Sophie picked at the hospital bracelet around her wrist.
“She said you don’t hurt kids. She said you don’t sell poison. She said you pay people on Fridays even if the bank messes up.”
Tony coughed into his fist.
Vincent stared at the floor tiles.
Elena Martinez had understood his reputation in the way employees often did: partly through facts, partly through stories men told themselves to make obedience feel moral.
“And she believed those things?” he asked.
Sophie shrugged.
“She said rules only count when they cost something.”
Vincent looked at her.
Again, the words belonged to someone older.
“What did she find at work?”
Sophie’s eyes moved toward Denise.
The social worker said, “This probably isn’t the right time for questioning.”
“I’m not questioning her.”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing.”
Sophie spoke quietly.
“A green folder.”
Vincent waited.
“Mama brought it home. She said she made copies because the numbers changed after she signed them.”
“What numbers?”
“Truck numbers.”
“Do you know where the copies are?”
Denise stepped between them.
“That’s enough.”
Sophie frowned.
“Mama hid them.”
“Where?”
“Mr. Torino.”
The voice came from behind them.
Nora Brennan approached with another detective, a younger man carrying two coffees. Her hair was pulled back now, and she had replaced her coat with a plain dark blazer.
“Conversation’s over,” she said.
Vincent stood.
“I asked her four questions.”
“You shouldn’t have asked her one.”
“She volunteered information.”
“She’s seven.”
“She’s also the only conscious witness.”
“That’s why trained people interview children.”
Sophie looked from one adult to the other.
Vincent saw the tension reach her and stepped back.
Nora noticed.
“Thank you,” she said, with enough surprise to make it an insult.
She crouched beside Sophie.
“We’re going to record a conversation with you in a room where it’s quiet. Denise will be there. Your aunt can join when she arrives.”
“Can Mr. Torino come?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because he knows the man you identified.”
“So do I.”
“That’s different.”
Sophie folded her arms.
“Not to me.”
Nora sat in the chair Vincent had vacated.
“Sophie, I need to make sure nobody tells you what to say.”
“He didn’t.”
“I believe that you believe that.”
Sophie’s face closed.
Vincent said, “Detective.”
Nora looked up.
“She hears the difference.”
Nora exhaled.
“All right. That came out wrong.”
Sophie glanced at Vincent.
Nora tried again.
“I need your words to be yours. Nobody else’s. That protects you and your mom.”
“From Marco?”
“From anyone who says you’re lying.”
Sophie considered this.
“Can Mr. Torino wait outside?”
Nora looked at Vincent.
He gave no expression.
“Yes,” she said. “He can wait outside.”
The interview lasted forty-seven minutes.
Vincent sat in another plastic chair with Tony while Nora’s partner brought them coffee neither had requested. Tony drank his. Vincent did not.
At two-thirteen in the morning, Rosa Martinez arrived wearing a hotel housekeeping uniform beneath an unzipped winter coat. She was younger than Elena by several years and resembled her enough that Sophie ran into her arms before the woman had finished asking where to go.
Rosa held her niece and looked over Sophie’s shoulder at Vincent.
Recognition hardened her face.
“What are you doing here?”
“Sophie found me.”
“She what?”
“She came to my restaurant.”
Rosa pulled Sophie closer.
“Why would she do that?”
Sophie answered against her shoulder.
“Mama told me.”
Rosa closed her eyes.
For a moment she appeared angry with Elena, which struck Vincent as the most honest reaction in the hallway.
Then she saw the blood beneath his fingernails.
“What happened to my sister?”
Vincent told her what the doctor had said, leaving out the pregnancy.
Rosa’s knees weakened. Tony moved a chair behind her before she fell.
“No,” she whispered. “No, Elena doesn’t—she doesn’t get into things. She goes to work. She comes home. She gets mad when the electric bill is high.”
Sophie touched her aunt’s sleeve.
“She found bad numbers.”
Rosa looked at Vincent.
“What did your people do?”
The accusation came without caution.
Tony stiffened.
Vincent said, “One of them attacked her.”
Rosa stood so quickly the chair tipped backward.
“You admit that?”
“I admit Sophie identified him.”
“Who?”
“Marco Vale.”
Rosa’s face changed.
“You know him?”
She looked at Sophie.
Sophie stared back.
Rosa said, “I’ve heard the name.”
“From Elena?”
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Vincent waited.
Rosa rubbed her palms against her uniform pants.
“From people.”
“What people?”
“This isn’t the time.”
“It became the time when your sister was carried into surgery.”
Rosa stepped toward him.
“You don’t get to talk to me like that.”
Tony moved between them by instinct.
Vincent touched Tony’s arm.
Tony stepped back.
Rosa’s anger trembled through her.
“My sister took that job because the hotel cut her hours,” she said. “She knew what your company was. Everybody knows. She told me it was legitimate office work. She said she never met you.”
“She barely did.”
“Then why did she send Sophie to you?”
May you like
“I don’t know.”
Rosa stared at him, searching for the lie she expected.
