Chương 10
Claire said no.
Then Emma asked from the kitchen, “Is that Mr. Lorenzo?”
Keane heard.
An hour later Claire was angry at herself in an elevator at Greenwich Hospital.
Emma was with Claire’s brother, Nathan, who had driven down from Hartford after receiving the most alarming voicemail of his life.
“You were hiding under a floor with who?” he had asked.
Claire had not enjoyed explaining.
Lorenzo’s room had two state troopers outside.
One checked her identification.
Inside, Lorenzo sat upright in a hospital bed wearing a gray T-shirt instead of a suit.
Without tailoring, shoes, bodyguards, and the mansion around him, he looked younger.
Not harmless.
Just human enough to be inconvenient.
The smiling-bear bandage was gone.
A small cut remained above his eyebrow.
He pointed at the chair.
Claire remained standing.
“You asked for five minutes.”
“Sit.”
“That sounds like six.”
He almost smiled.
“How’s Emma?”
“She asks if you got arrested.”
“Did you tell her yes?”
“I told her police are keeping you somewhere safe.”
“That’s generous.”
“She asked if Bunny has a lawyer.”
“Does he?”
“He was released without charges.”
Lorenzo looked down.
For the first time since Claire entered, some of the tension left his shoulders.
“He got back to her?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Silence settled.
Claire waited.
Lorenzo rubbed his thumb along the edge of the hospital blanket.
It was a small movement.
Nervous.
She had never imagined Lorenzo Duca nervous.
“I owe you,” he said.
“No.”
“You saved my life.”
“No.”
“That is factually—”
“You owe me nothing.”
His jaw tightened.
“Claire.”
“You asked me here to give me money?”
“No.”
“Job?”
“No.”
“House?”
“No.”
“Security?”
“Yes.”
She sighed.
“I have temporary protection.”
“It isn’t enough.”
“That isn’t your decision.”
“Paolo hasn’t been found.”
“I know.”
“Two men from the estate are missing.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Police tell witnesses things when they think witnesses may be in danger.”
He did not like the word witnesses.
She saw it.
“What do you want from me?” Claire asked.
Lorenzo looked toward the door.
“I want you to leave Connecticut.”
“No.”
His eyes returned to her.
“I can arrange—”
“No.”
“For a few weeks.”
“No.”
“You’re being stubborn.”
“I have a lease. My brother is in Hartford. Emma has preschool. I need work.”
“You don’t need work.”
Claire laughed.
“Of course you think that.”
“I mean financially.”
“I know what you mean.”
“I can cover—”
“No money.”
“This is ridiculous.”
“There he is.”
“Who?”
“The man from the mansion.”
His expression cooled.
Claire stepped closer.
“You don’t get to turn my life into one of your problems and then solve me with a check.”
“I’m trying to keep you alive.”
“So am I.”
“How?”
“By cooperating with police.”
Lorenzo stared.
She let the silence remain.
He said, “You think that protects you?”
“I think hiding things protects the people hunting us.”
“You don’t understand what cooperation costs.”
“Then explain it.”
He looked at her.
She waited.
He did not.
“Exactly.”
Lorenzo shifted and winced.
Pain tightened his jaw.
Claire noticed and hated that she noticed.
“You should lie back.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re sweating.”
“I’m Italian.”
“That is not a medical condition.”
He exhaled and leaned against the pillow.
Claire sat finally.
Not because he asked.
Because she was tired.
Lorenzo said, “Celeste visited my mother.”
“When?”
“Yesterday.”
“What did she say?”
“That she was relieved I survived.”
Claire waited.
“My mother believed her.”
“Do you?”
He looked at the blanket.
“No.”
The word seemed difficult.
“Why not?”
“Because Celeste asked my mother whether I had spoken to anyone.”
“That could mean anything.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t like that answer.”
“No.”
“Good.”
He looked at her.
Claire shrugged.
“Evidence has to survive more than one frightened night.”
“Shaw said that.”
“He’s annoying.”
“He likes you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“He respects you.”
“That’s different.”
Lorenzo studied her.
“You’ve thought about this.”
“I’ve thought about nothing else.”
“What do you think happened?”
Claire hesitated.
“You want my opinion?”
“Yes.”
“I think Paolo shot you because he was angry. I think that part may not have been planned.”
Lorenzo’s eyes narrowed.
“Go on.”
“I think something was planned. Maybe an ambush. Maybe forcing you out. Maybe making you disappear later. But I don’t think shooting you in a service corridor was the original idea.”
“Why?”
“Because blood everywhere is sloppy. Staff were still in the house. Emma was there. The storm trapped people. Too many witnesses.”
He listened.
“And Celeste?”
“I think she knew something was supposed to happen.”
“Based on shoes.”
“Based on timing.”
Lorenzo said nothing.
Claire continued.
“She tells staff you’re dead. Then men search the grounds instead of everyone calling police.”
“They could have been looking for the shooter.”
“They had a dog and didn’t announce themselves. One of them searched the pump house after blood led to the shed. That man was not searching for your killer.”
Lorenzo’s face became still.
“He was searching for me.”
“Yes.”
“So Celeste sent them?”
“I don’t know.”
“You think so.”
“I think whoever sent them knew you might still be alive.”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
Claire watched him absorb it.
Not as a boss.
As a nephew.
That distinction mattered.
“She raised you,” Claire said.
His eyes opened.
“Keane talks too much.”
“No. You do.”
He looked annoyed.
“You said enough in the tunnel.”
“I was bleeding.”
“Apparently hemorrhage makes you autobiographical.”
He stared at her.
Then, unexpectedly, laughed.
Once.
It hurt him.
He grabbed his side.
Claire stood.
“See?”
“Don’t make jokes.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did something.”
A nurse entered, checked his monitor, gave both of them a suspicious look, and told Lorenzo to stop sitting forward.
After she left, Claire said, “I have one question.”
“Ask.”
“If Celeste did this, what will you do?”
He did not answer quickly.
That was answer enough.
Claire stood.
“I’m leaving.”
“Why?”
“Because I am not helping you identify the person who tried to kill you so you can kill them better.”
“I didn’t say that.”
May you like
“You didn’t need to.”
“Claire.”
