Chapter 3 - The Recording That Destroyed Two Families
“No.”
Roman stared at Margaret.
“You had a recording for seventeen years?”
Margaret flinched.
Elise looked horrified.
“Mom.”
“I was afraid.”
Roman pushed himself off the table.
His knees nearly failed.
Elise caught him.
“Sit down.”
He pulled away.
“Where is it?”
Margaret said nothing.
“Where is the recording?”
“I destroyed it.”
Roman froze.
Elise whispered, “Why?”
“Because Carter came back.”
Margaret's voice cracked.
“He came to the bakery six days after I found it. He knew.”
“How?” Roman demanded.
“I don't know.”
“What did he say?”
Margaret looked at Elise.
“He said if I ever played it for anyone, my daughter would disappear.”
Elise's expression changed.
“You never told me.”
“You were fifteen.”
“I am not fifteen now!”
“I was protecting you!”
“By letting me believe Dad died over forty dollars in a cash register?”
Margaret's eyes filled.
“I didn't know what else to do.”
Roman's voice was icy.
“What was on the recording?”
Margaret wiped her face.
“Your brother and Daniel arguing with Carter.”
“About what?”
“Money. Shipping containers. Carter had been moving narcotics through Marcelli warehouses and blaming Daniel's union crews for missing inventory.”
Roman's jaw tightened.
“Carter was never in charge of shipping then.”
“He had access through his father.”
Roman remembered.
Vincent Voss.
His father's logistics adviser.
A man who died of a heart attack twelve years ago.
Margaret continued.
“Daniel said he was going to tell your father.”
Roman laughed once.
“That explains everything.”
Elise looked at him.
“What?”
“My father trusted Vincent Voss more than his own sons.”
Roman's face hardened.
“If Anthony accused Carter, Carter could frame Anthony first.”
Margaret nodded.
“That is what happened.”
Roman pressed both hands against the table.
“And you destroyed the only proof.”
“I thought I did.”
Roman looked up.
Margaret's eyes moved toward an old flour cabinet.
“I copied it.”
Elise stared.
“You copied it?”
“I made a cassette copy before Carter came.”
Roman nearly laughed from disbelief.
“You've had proof for seventeen years?”
“I hid it somewhere nobody connected to me would search.”
“Where?”
Margaret looked at Elise.
“Inside Daniel's grave.”
Silence.
Even Roman had nothing to say.
Elise blinked.
“You buried evidence with Dad?”
“Under the headstone. Waterproof box.”
Roman lowered himself back onto the table.
“Mrs. Keene, you are considerably more interesting than I remember.”
Margaret glared at him.
“Don't charm me.”
“I promise that wasn't charm.”
A phone vibrated.
Everyone froze.
It was Elise's.
Unknown number.
Roman said, “Don't answer.”
The call stopped.
Then came a text.
WE KNOW HE'S THERE.
Elise turned the screen toward Roman.
Another message arrived.
BRING MARCELLI OUT. YOUR SON STAYS SAFE.
Margaret whispered, “Oh God.”
Roman held out his hand.
“Phone.”
Elise hesitated.
“Give it to me.”
She did.
Roman typed.
CARTER. YOU MISSED.
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
YOU WERE ALWAYS HARD TO KILL.
Roman typed.
COME DO IT YOURSELF.
Elise grabbed the phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Buying time.”
“You just invited the man who shot you to my house.”
“No. Carter won't come.”
“How reassuring.”
“He'll send men. Which tells me where he isn't.”
Elise stared.
“What does that mean?”
Roman looked at Margaret.
“How fast can we get that recording?”
“Daniel is buried at Holy Cross.”
“Twenty minutes.”
“You can't walk to the bathroom.”
Roman held out his hand.
“Call Dominic.”
“How?”
“Use my emergency number.”
He recited it.
Margaret dialed.
A man answered on the first ring.
“Who is this?”
Roman leaned toward the phone.
“Dom.”
Silence.
Then—
“Jesus Christ.”
“Disappointed?”
“Roman? Where the hell are you?”
“Alive.”
“I can hear that.”
“Carter?”
“Running everything from Pier Twelve. He's telling people you fled after skimming company money.”
Roman smiled without humor.
“That was quick.”
“He's also saying you killed Marco.”
“Marco's alive?”
“Barely. But alive.”
Roman exhaled.
“Get him somewhere safe.”
“Already done.”
“Then listen carefully.”
Roman's voice changed.
The injured man disappeared.
The boss returned.
“I need two vehicles near Holy Cross Cemetery. No syndicate plates. Nobody follows you.”
Dominic went quiet.
“What are we retrieving?”
“The truth.”
Thirty minutes later, Elise was helping Roman into the rear seat of her ten-year-old Honda.
She looked at him.
“If you bleed on the upholstery, you're paying for it.”
Roman stared.
“You're taking a wounded crime boss to dig up a grave and you're worried about the seats?”
“I've had this car eight years.”
“Fair.”
Margaret got in front.
“Noah stays with Mrs. Alvarez.”
Elise shook her head.
“No.”
“Elise—”
“The men looking for Roman already know Noah exists. I'm not putting him in somebody else's apartment and making that family a target.”
Roman looked toward the building entrance.
Noah emerged wearing a coat over his dinosaur pajamas.
And the yellow boots.
Roman frowned.
“He's coming?”
Elise buckled him in.
“He stays where I can see him.”
Noah looked at Roman.
“Did Mom fix you?”
Roman glanced at Elise.
“Temporarily.”
Noah smiled.
“Told you.”
Roman looked away toward the rain-streaked window.
A strange thought came to him.
For the first time in years, someone had been certain he would survive before Roman himself was.
May you like
And somehow that certainty belonged to a five-year-old in yellow boots.
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