Chương 6
“No.”
“For lost wages.”
“No.”
“You’re behind on rent.”
Her chest went still.
“How do you know that?”
His expression told her he regretted saying it, though regret did not make him apologize.
“You investigated me.”
“I made sure the woman near my daughter wasn’t a threat.”
“You looked at my finances.”
“Elena did.”
“And told you.”
“Yes.”
Lena stared at him. “Give me your coat.”
“What?”
“The one at my apartment. I’ll have Daniel bring it.”
“Keep it.”
“I would rather freeze.”
She walked away before he could answer.
Bellweather Grill opened at eleven. The lunch crowd had already started when Lena entered through the kitchen. Servers moved around her carrying trays. Someone near the dish station whispered her name.
Frank Bellweather came out of his office with his reading glasses pushed onto his forehead.
“You shouldn’t be here.”
“I’m scheduled.”
“I told you to take a few days.”
“I can’t afford a few days.”
He lowered his voice. “There are reporters outside.”
“I came through the alley.”
“That’s the problem, Lena. Everything is alleys and black cars now.”
She looked around the kitchen. Two cooks pretended not to listen. Monica, the server who had refilled Lena’s syrups, stood near the ice machine with her arms crossed.
“I found a child,” Lena said.
“You found his child.”
“I didn’t choose her father.”
“The customers don’t care. Half want pictures. Half don’t want to eat somewhere connected to organized crime.”
“We aren’t connected.”
“You are.”
“Because I called her dad?”
Frank’s face flushed. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Make it sound simple.”
“It was simple. She needed help.”
A bus tub struck the floor behind them. Everyone flinched. The dishwasher muttered an apology and began gathering silverware.
Frank rubbed the bridge of his nose.
“My insurer called.”
“About me?”
“About possible security issues.”
“You told the insurer?”
“It was online.”
“You fired me because strangers filmed me helping a child.”
“I didn’t fire you.”
“Am I working today?”
“No.”
“Am I being paid?”
His silence answered.
Monica stepped forward. “Frank, this is garbage.”
“Stay out of it.”
“She covered my doubles when my mother was sick.”
“This isn’t about that.”
“What is it about?” Lena asked.
Frank looked toward the dining room. A man near the host stand held up a phone, recording through the service window.
“This,” Frank said.
Lena untied the apron she had worn into the restaurant and placed it on a prep table.
“You still owe me for Thursday’s closing shift.”
“Payroll is Tuesday.”
“I know when payroll is.”
She left through the front door.
Four people waited on the sidewalk. One called her Dominic’s mystery woman. Another asked whether Lily had named her kidnappers. A third pushed a microphone close to Lena’s face and asked how long she had known the Rosetti family.
Lena kept walking.
A black sedan pulled to the curb.
Daniel got out.
She stopped.
“I told him not to send you.”
“He didn’t.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because those people followed you from the hospital.”
“Did you follow me from the hospital?”
“Yes.”
“At least you’re honest.”
He opened the passenger door.
“I can walk.”
“They know where you live.”
Lena looked behind her. One of the reporters had already begun moving toward a car.
She got in.
Daniel drove three blocks without speaking.
“Did Dominic tell you I was fired?”
“No.”
“I wasn’t technically fired.”
“Those are usually the expensive firings.”
She glanced at him. “You make jokes?”
“Not often.”
“Was Vincent at the house Tuesday?”
Daniel’s face closed.
“Lily said he was.”
“I wasn’t assigned to the house Tuesday.”
“Who was?”
“A rotating team.”
“Did Vincent choose them?”
“He approves schedules.”
“Does he use lemon lozenges?”
Daniel turned onto Kedzie Avenue. “You need to stop asking questions in cars you didn’t inspect.”
Lena looked into the back seat.
“Is there someone under the floor mat?”
“That isn’t what I mean.”
“You think your own vehicles are monitored?”
“I think everything is monitored eventually.”
He drove her home.
A package waited outside her apartment door. Inside was a new pale-blue sweater, folded over a white box containing five thousand dollars in cash.
There was no note.
Lena called Dominic.
“Take it back.”
“What?”
“The money.”
Silence.
“I didn’t send cash.”
“The sweater?”
“Yes.”
“There’s five thousand dollars under it.”
Dominic’s voice changed. “Don’t touch anything else.”
“I already opened the box.”
“Leave the apartment.”
“This is my apartment.”
“Lena.”
She heard movement on his end. A door closing. A command spoken away from the phone.
“Go downstairs,” he said. “Daniel is outside.”
“You said you didn’t send him.”
“I didn’t send the money.”
Lena looked at the bills. They were bound in paper bands, too neat to have come from someone’s wallet.
Her name was written on the inside of the box lid.
Thank you for forgetting.
No signature.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
Dominic did not answer immediately.
“Take a photograph and send it to me. Then leave it.”
“You know.”
“I suspect.”
“What?”
“Lena, go downstairs.”
“No. Tell me.”
His restraint cracked.
“Someone wants it to look as if you were paid.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“Paid for what?”
“For finding her.”
Lena thought of the clean soles of Lily’s shoes. The exact alley on her route home. Vincent saying, I know.
“Was I supposed to find her?”
“I don’t know.”
“You investigated my schedule.”
“I did.”
“Could someone else?”
“Yes.”
The honest answer frightened her.
She photographed the box and stepped into the hallway. Daniel was already coming up the stairs, one hand beneath his coat. He passed her without speaking and entered the apartment.
A neighbor opened her door two inches.
“Everything okay, Lena?”
“No, Mrs. Patel.”
The door closed again.
Detective Chen arrived fifteen minutes later. She wore gloves while examining the box. Daniel stood near the window, visibly unhappy about police inside the apartment.
May you like
Chen read the message twice.
“Thank you for forgetting,” she said. “Does that mean anything to you?”
