Chapter 2
“One of Colombo’s accountants.”
“What exactly did he say?”
Niko frowned, trying to remember.
“He said, ‘Moretti will never see the door his own blood opened.’”
Marco exhaled.
I stared at my reflection in the glass.
My own blood.
I should have felt rage.
Instead, I felt something colder.
Grief.
Because betrayal is not painful merely because trust was misplaced.
It hurts because trust had existed at all.
We did not go to Bay Ridge immediately.
That surprised everyone.
It surprised me too.
I went to the kitchen.
Rosa, my longtime housekeeper, was there with two of Sofia’s tiny sweaters folded on the table.
She stood when I entered.
“Did you find her?”
“Not yet.”
Her eyes filled.
I looked at the sweaters.
One yellow.
One green.
Neither much bigger than a napkin.
Rosa had been with my family since before I was born. She was seventy-one now and had never learned to pretend I frightened her.
“You look terrible,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“You should eat.”
“No.”
“You should.”
“Rosa.”
She crossed her arms.
“You cannot rescue anyone after fainting.”
Marco, standing behind me, made the mistake of smiling.
I gave him a look.
He became serious immediately.
Rosa placed bread, cheese and coffee in front of me.
I sat.
Perhaps because I had run out of useful arguments.
She poured coffee.
“Sofia asked me something yesterday,” Rosa said.
My fingers stopped around the cup.
“What?”
“She asked why you eat dinner alone.”
I looked up.
“What did you tell her?”
“That some people become used to empty chairs.”
I stared at Rosa.
“And what did she say?”
Rosa smiled sadly.
“She said chairs are for sitting.”
Despite everything, a small laugh escaped me.
It hurt.
Rosa put one hand over mine.
“They will come home.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No.”
She squeezed my fingers.
“But I know what kind of home they need to return to.”
Her meaning was clear.
Not one filled with vengeance.
Not one where doors slammed and men disappeared and everyone whispered.
A safe one.
A normal one, as much as normal was possible around me.
I looked toward Marco.
“Find out everything about the Bay Ridge property. Who owns it legally. Utilities. Vehicles. Neighbors.”
Marco nodded.
“And keep everyone away from Red Hook.”
“What about Colombo?”
“He wants a war.”
Marco waited.
“He isn’t getting one.”
The townhouse stood on a quiet block near Shore Road, three floors of pale brick behind a narrow front garden.
It belonged on paper to a retired dentist named Harold Baum.
Harold Baum had died eight years earlier.
The property taxes were paid through a holding company.
That holding company had been created by an attorney Adrian used.
There were no guards visible.
No Colombo cars.
No indication that anyone dangerous was inside.
That worried me more than visible security would have.
We parked two blocks away.
“I can send someone around back,” Marco said.
“No.”
“Boss.”
“If Elena sees ten men coming through the doors, she’ll think she’s in the middle of a siege.”
Marco looked at the house.
“What are you suggesting?”
“We knock.”
He turned to me slowly.
“Knock.”
“Yes.”
“At the kidnappers’ house.”
“Apparently.”
Niko, sitting in the third row, spoke quietly.
“I don’t think Vincent is there.”
“Why?”
“Because this wasn’t supposed to be the final location.”
I turned.
“What does that mean?”
Niko looked troubled.
“I heard them say something about keeping them comfortable.”
Comfortable.
It was a strange word in the middle of everything.
Not unharmed.
Not alive.
Comfortable.
I opened the car door.
Marco followed.
We crossed the street.
My heart beat harder with every step.
Not because I feared the men inside.
Because Sofia might be behind that door.
I rang the bell.
Footsteps came from inside.
A lock turned.
The door opened three inches.
A woman in her sixties looked out.
Gray hair.
Glasses.
Blue cardigan.
“Yes?”
I stared at her.
“Who are you?”
Her eyebrows rose.
“You rang my bell.”
“Is Elena Vargas here?”
The woman’s face changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
“You’re Dominic.”
Marco shifted beside me.
The woman opened the door wider.
“My name is Dr. Miriam Keller.”
The name meant nothing to me.
“Where are Elena and Sofia?”
“They’re safe.”
Everything inside me stopped.
“Where?”
“Upstairs.”
I stepped forward.
Miriam blocked the doorway.
“You need to listen before you go up.”
I stared at her.
“Move.”
“No.”
Marco looked almost amused despite himself.
Very few people had told me no in my own city.
Miriam did it like a school principal refusing a student permission to leave class.
“If you charge upstairs angry and surrounded by men, you will frighten Sofia.”
I heard the child’s name and forced myself still.
Miriam studied me.
“She’s asleep.”
“And Elena?”
“Also safe.”
“Who brought them here?”
“Two men. They told me they were protecting them.”
“From whom?”
“You.”
That answer I had not expected.
Miriam opened the door fully.
“Come inside.”
The front room looked like somebody’s grandmother lived there.
May you like
Books.
Plants.
