Chương 7
“I don’t want strangers buying pieces of the worst night of our lives.”
Finn’s face hardened. “Maybe I do.”
He walked to his room and shut the door.
Mave followed, then stopped with her hand on the knob. Her shoulder throbbed. She did not know whether she wanted to comfort him or defend herself.
She returned to the kitchen instead.
Elena was sitting at the table, folding the corner of a paper napkin into smaller and smaller triangles.
“You think I’m wrong,” Mave said.
“I think he’s scared.”
“So am I.”
“He’s nine.”
“I’m aware.”
Elena flattened the napkin. “Rafe paid for my college even when I told him I wanted to leave. He said refusing money didn’t make me independent if I still called him whenever something broke.”
“That sounds like him.”
“He was right, which made it worse.”
Mave took a glass from the cabinet with her left hand. “Did you leave?”
“For one semester. I came back after our father died.”
“Why?”
“Because Rafe stopped sleeping.”
“That was your reason?”
“It was the reason I admitted.”
The apartment buzzer sounded. One of the guards announced Detective Ortiz.
She arrived carrying a legal envelope and two coffees, one of which she kept.
“The court granted limited access to Jamie’s box,” she said. “You, me, a federal agent, and counsel for the vault company. The contents will be inventoried before anything leaves.”
“When?”
“Tomorrow morning.”
Rafe entered ten minutes later with his lawyer, Daniel Cho, a narrow-faced man who spoke softly enough to make everyone else lower their voice.
Ortiz looked at Rafe. “You are not invited.”
“It concerns my family’s business.”
“It concerns a dead driver and a box hidden from your family.”
Cho placed a folder on the table. “Ms. Donovan has requested independent counsel.”
Mave frowned. “I did?”
“I requested it for you,” Rafe said.
“I didn’t agree.”
“The attorney is not connected to me.”
“Who pays her?”
“A legal defense fund.”
“Connected to you.”
Cho adjusted his glasses. “Technically, the fund predates Mr. Colazo’s current ownership structure.”
“That sentence is why people hate lawyers,” Ortiz said.
Mave looked at Rafe. “I’ll use a public attorney.”
Ortiz shook her head. “This isn’t a criminal appointment. I can give you a list of victim-services organizations.”
“Do that.”
Rafe leaned against the counter. “The federal agent will pressure you to surrender everything.”
“Maybe I should.”
“You don’t know what’s inside.”
“Neither do you.”
“I know Jamie believed it could get him killed.”
“And hiding it got him killed anyway.”
The room went quiet.
Rafe glanced toward Finn’s closed door.
Mave lowered her voice. “I won’t become part of your family’s cleanup.”
“You already are.”
“No. I was struck by it.”
The distinction remained between them after he left.
The private vault company occupied the lower floor of a granite building behind an unmarked brass door. Detective Ortiz drove Mave there in an unmarked sedan. Mave wore a sling beneath a loose black coat despite the August heat. Each pothole sent a dull shock through her back.
The federal agent introduced himself as Aaron Pike. He was younger than Mave expected, with sandy hair and a wedding ring he turned when listening. The vault company’s lawyer read the court order aloud as though someone might accuse him of skipping a word.
Jamie’s box was long and narrow.
Inside lay a blue ledger, two flash drives, six printed shipping manifests, a prepaid phone sealed in a plastic bag, and an envelope addressed to Mave.
Her name was written in Jamie’s uneven block letters.
She touched the envelope with her left hand.
Pike said, “We need to document it before you open it.”
“It’s addressed to me.”
“The court order permits personal correspondence to be reviewed for evidentiary relevance.”
Mave looked at Ortiz.
The detective’s mouth tightened. “He’s right.”
The vault lawyer photographed both sides. Mave opened the envelope.
The first page began: Mave, I did something stupid because I thought it was the only decent thing left.
Jamie’s voice returned so clearly that she had to sit.
He had discovered Harbor Meridian trucks carrying unregistered weapons beneath legitimate seafood shipments. Carlo coordinated drivers. Domenic Colazo approved routes. Jamie had agreed to make one delivery because the extra cash would cover Finn’s testing. Afterward, he learned the weapons had been sold to a crew involved in a shooting that killed a teenage boy in Chelsea.
Jamie began copying manifests.
He did not go to the police. He did not trust them, and he feared prosecution. He contacted a federal investigator through a union representative, then panicked and stopped answering. Carlo noticed irregular logins in the dispatch system. Jamie hid the evidence and planned to move Mave and Finn before trying again.
The final lines were written more heavily.
If Rafe finds this, he may tell you his father knew nothing. That might even be true. Don’t trust anybody who needs the truth to be simple.
Mave read the sentence twice.
Agent Pike asked for the letter.
She held it against the table. “Give me a minute.”
“The manifests may concern an active trafficking conspiracy.”
“My son’s father wrote this before he was murdered.”
“We have not established homicide.”
Ortiz said, “Aaron.”
He stepped back.
The blue ledger contained dates, container numbers, cash amounts, and initials. D.C. appeared on twenty-one pages. C.B. appeared on seventeen. S.C., Rafe’s father, appeared only twice, beside entries labeled approved review.
Rafe’s initials appeared once.
R.C.—hold shipment.
The date was three days before Jamie’s death.
Mave looked at Ortiz. “What does that mean?”
“We don’t know.”
Pike photographed the page. “Mr. Colazo may.”
Rafe was waiting at the secure apartment when Mave returned.
Finn sat on the floor building a tower from playing cards. Elena stood at the window. Two bodyguards remained near the door.
Mave placed a photocopy of the ledger page on the table.
Rafe saw his initials and went silent.
“What shipment did you hold?” she asked.
May you like
“I need the full date.”
She gave it.
