Chương 9
The bullet had passed through muscle along his right flank, fractured the edge of a rib, and caused blood loss serious enough to require transfusion but not surgery for internal organ damage. Doctors told him he had been lucky.
He disliked the word.
Luck suggested passivity.
He had built his adult life around the belief that outcomes belonged to men who prepared harder, intimidated sooner, and knew which door would be unlocked before they reached it.
Luck was for casinos and weather.
Yet he could not explain the three-year-old finding him before Paolo’s men did.
He could not explain Claire refusing to leave him.
He could not explain the bullet missing his liver by centimeters.
So when the surgeon said lucky for the third time, Lorenzo stopped correcting him.
Police interviewed him the morning after admission.
He gave them Paolo.
Nothing else.
Daniel Keane stood near the window with both hands in his pockets.
Detective Shaw closed his notebook.
“You expect me to believe Paolo acted alone?”
“I expect you to believe I saw Paolo shoot me.”
“Who ordered him?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who sent men searching the estate?”
“I don’t know.”
“Who told staff you were dead?”
“I wasn’t there.”
Shaw looked at him.
“You understand your housekeeper has given us more useful information than you have.”
“Maid.”
“What?”
“She prefers maid.”
Keane closed his eyes.
Shaw said, “You were almost murdered.”
“Yes.”
“Your cousin is missing.”
“Yes.”
“Your aunt reportedly announced your death while you were still bleeding on the property.”
“Reported by a toddler.”
“A toddler who saved your life.”
Lorenzo looked toward the window.
Keane noticed.
Shaw did too.
“Interesting,” the detective said.
“What?”
“That bothered you more than the rest.”
“Nothing bothers me.”
Keane said, “Please stop saying things that sound stupid in official interviews.”
Lorenzo looked at him.
“You’re still fired.”
“I’m billing you anyway.”
Shaw leaned back.
“Mr. Duca, there’s another issue.”
“There usually is.”
“The search warrant.”
Lorenzo’s expression changed.
“What warrant?”
“For the estate.”
Keane straightened.
“Based on what?”
“Gunfire, blood, armed men, attempted homicide, witness statements. You can argue scope later.”
“What did you take?” Lorenzo asked.
Shaw smiled without humor.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Keane stepped forward.
“Interview over.”
Shaw stood.
“At least one of us is learning.”
After he left, Lorenzo stared at Keane.
“What did they find?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
“No.”
Lorenzo looked at him.
Keane dragged a chair closer and sat.
“You almost died.”
“I’m aware.”
“You have three federal investigations circling you, two state investigations you pretend are unrelated, and a cousin who shot you because somebody inside your own family believed you could be removed without consequence.”
“Is there a point?”
“Yes. Your usual strategy has reached its natural conclusion.”
“My usual strategy has made you rich.”
“My wife is a dentist. I was already comfortable.”
Lorenzo looked away.
Keane lowered his voice.
“Claire Mercer requested protection.”
Lorenzo turned back.
“Is she getting it?”
“Temporary measures.”
“Not enough.”
“No.”
“Then make it enough.”
“With what authority?”
“Money.”
“She specifically told police she wants no money from you.”
Lorenzo stared at him.
Keane almost enjoyed it.
“Did she.”
“Yes.”
“Then don’t tell her.”
“That would be exactly the kind of behavior she was objecting to.”
Lorenzo picked up the plastic cup beside his bed and drank.
His hand remained weak.
He hated that Keane saw it.
“What does she want?”
“To be left alone.”
“Impossible.”
“Why?”
“Paolo knows she was with me.”
“Paolo may be halfway to Canada.”
“Or five miles away.”
Keane nodded.
“That part I agree with.”
“So?”
“So if you want to help, start telling the truth.”
Lorenzo put the cup down.
“I told Shaw who shot me.”
“You told him the smallest possible truth.”
“It’s the one I can prove.”
“Since when have you cared about proof?”
Lorenzo looked at him for a long moment.
Then said, “Celeste wouldn’t do this.”
Keane did not answer.
“She raised us.”
“I know.”
“When my mother left, Celeste—”
“I know.”
“She took care of Sofia.”
Keane’s face softened at Lorenzo’s sister’s name.
“That doesn’t mean she didn’t do this.”
Lorenzo looked toward the hospital window again.
Cars moved through the parking lot below.
Normal people.
Visitors carrying flowers.
A man arguing with a payment kiosk.
A woman helping an elderly patient into a sedan.
“Emma said Celeste told people I was dead.”
“Yes.”
“Emma is three.”
“Yes.”
“She thinks her rabbit gets scared.”
“Probably does.”
Lorenzo glanced at him.
Keane shrugged.
“I have children.”
Lorenzo looked back outside.
“What did Celeste say?”
“To police? That Paolo received a call claiming you’d been killed. She says she repeated what she was told because she believed it.”
“Who called him?”
“She says she doesn’t know.”
“Convenient.”
“Yes.”
Lorenzo closed his eyes.
Sofia had died six years earlier in a furnished apartment in Brooklyn with one shoe on and her phone still playing a podcast.
He had seen the photographs.
He had not seen her body until the funeral home because Celeste insisted somebody should remember her clean.
Paolo had cried at the burial.
Lorenzo remembered that now.
His cousin’s face red, his shoulders shaking, one hand gripping the back of the folding chair.
Was that grief false?
Maybe not.
People could love somebody and still help create the world that killed them.
Claire would probably have said that.
The thought irritated him.
“Find Paolo,” Lorenzo said.
Keane sighed.
“I am an attorney.”
“You know people.”
“I know investigators.”
“Use them.”
“For the police?”
“For me.”
Keane stood.
“No.”
Lorenzo’s eyes hardened.
Keane looked unimpressed.
“You want the old system, hire an old lawyer. If you want me, we do this legally.”
“You’ve represented me eleven years.”
“Yes. And every year you say the word legally like I suggested knitting.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Decide whether surviving actually changes anything.”
Lorenzo said nothing.
Keane left.
Two days later, Claire visited the hospital.
May you like
She did not plan to.
Daniel Keane called her at eleven in the morning and said Lorenzo had requested five minutes.
