Chương 7
“People who deserved prison.”
“Some of them.”
“And the others?”
“Drivers. Bookkeepers. Men who followed orders because their mortgages did not accept moral distinctions.”
“You always make corruption sound administrative.”
“It often is.”
She hated that he was right about the small part because it seemed designed to soften the larger wrong.
“Did you order Dominic to hurt him?”
“No.”
“Did you know Dominic might?”
“I knew he was cruel. I did not believe he would kill your brother without permission.”
“Why not?”
“Because Matteo belonged to you.”
The phrasing made her recoil. “He didn’t belong to me.”
Lorenzo lowered the cold pack. “You know what I mean.”
“I know exactly what you mean. You thought my relationship to you made him protected property.”
“Yes.”
“And when you were wrong, you cleaned up the mess.”
“Yes.”
“What did you do?”
He placed the cold pack on the desk. “Carlo drove Dominic and two men to Harbor Seventeen. Matteo was brought there in a second car. Dominic took the copies and demanded to know whether anyone else had them. Matteo said Nadia had everything.”
“He lied.”
“Apparently.”
“Then?”
“Dominic hit him. Matteo fought back. One of the men held him. Dominic continued.”
Lorenzo stopped speaking.
Isabella felt the grainy edge of the ultrasound photograph through her dress pocket. A life protected by fabric while another life was reduced to pauses in a confession.
“How did he die?”
“Blunt-force trauma.”
“I read the report.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t say that.”
Lorenzo nodded once.
“Were you there?”
“No.”
“How did you find out?”
“Carlo called me.”
“And you went to the warehouse?”
“Yes.”
“Was Matteo alive?”
Lorenzo’s silence gave her the answer before he did.
“For several minutes.”
The room narrowed.
“What did he say?”
“He asked me to call you.”
Isabella gripped the back of a chair.
“Did you?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“The ambulance was coming. I believed—”
“You called an ambulance?”
“Through an untraceable phone. We left before it arrived.”
“You left him alone?”
“One of the men stayed until he heard the sirens.”
“Did Matteo know you were leaving?”
Lorenzo looked down at his injured hand. “Yes.”
The pain that moved through her was so complete it seemed almost clean. She did not cry. She did not shout. She crossed the room and struck him again.
This time he had time to stop her.
He did not.
Her palm hit the same bruised cheek. Lorenzo’s head turned slightly with the impact. When he faced her again, there was no anger in his expression.
“You let him die thinking I didn’t come.”
“I know.”
“You could have put the phone to his ear.”
“Yes.”
“You could have told me.”
“Yes.”
“You came home that night and got into bed.”
He closed his eyes.
She remembered waking around dawn and finding him seated at the edge of the mattress, still dressed. She had asked whether something was wrong. He had said a shipment had been delayed.
Hours later, the police called.
Isabella’s knees weakened. Lorenzo moved instinctively, but she shoved his hand away and sat in the chair.
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“Because hearing your voice would have made him say your name. The man with him would have heard. Dominic was already arguing that Matteo had told you everything.”
“So you protected me.”
“That is what I told myself.”
“What is the truth?”
“I protected the organization first.”
The honesty was brutal enough to be useful.
Elena entered without knocking. “Carlo called.”
She held out her phone. A voice message played.
“Mama, don’t call me again. I’m fine. Tell Mr. DeSantis I did what he asked. Tell him the van is at the old bakery. I’m sorry.”
The message ended.
Lorenzo took the phone and replayed it.
“I didn’t ask him to do anything,” he said.
Elena’s breath caught.
“Dominic is creating a record,” Isabella said.
“Yes.”
“A message tying Carlo to you.”
Lorenzo handed back the phone. “The old bakery belongs to a company I control.”
“What van?” Elena asked.
“I don’t know.”
His phone rang. He checked the number and answered.
For thirty seconds, he listened without speaking. Then he asked, “Any injuries?”
A pause.
“Keep the building empty. Do not touch the vehicle. Call my attorney from a clean phone.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” Isabella asked.
“A van was left behind the bakery. It contains warehouse records and two firearms registered to one of my companies.”
“Dominic is framing you?”
“He is making certain the evidence the government already has points in one direction.”
“At you.”
“Yes.”
Elena gripped the banister. “And Carlo?”
“His fingerprints may be inside the van.”
“Find him.”
“I will.”
“Now.”
Lorenzo looked at Isabella. “Neither of you can stay here.”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “Ten minutes ago, I couldn’t leave.”
“Dominic changed the calculation.”
“Where do we go?”
“Not your mother’s. Not Elena’s apartment. There’s a house in Westchester registered to my attorney.”
“I’m not going to another house you control.”
“Claire Walker controls it.”
“Your attorney?”
“Yes.”
“Criminal attorney?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful.”
“She has been preparing for this longer than anyone else.”
That phrase caught Isabella. “Preparing for what?”
Lorenzo looked at the door, then at the cameras. “My cooperation.”
Elena stared at him. “With the government?”
“For eight months.”
Isabella searched his face for deception. “You were going to become an informant.”
“I was going to provide records through counsel and negotiate a surrender.”
“When?”
“After I separated the legitimate companies from the others and moved certain families out of danger.”
“You expect me to believe you were quietly becoming a good man?”
“No.” Lorenzo picked up his coat. “I was trying to become a man who could survive prison without leaving everyone else to Dominic.”
He called someone and instructed two vehicles to come to the rear service entrance. Then he opened a drawer, removed a small pistol, and placed it inside his coat.
Isabella noticed the motion.
May you like
He noticed her noticing.
“You may leave in a separate car,” he said. “Claire will meet you. Elena goes with you. I’ll take another route.”
