Chapter 4 - The Man Who Killed Lily
Hannah wanted to go to the police.
I wanted Eric Dalton brought to my basement.
We compromised.
Barely.
“No,” she said.
“Hannah—”
“No.”
She stood in my office with her arms folded.
“You promised me truth.”
“I promised nothing.”
“You asked what I wanted.”
“And you told me.”
“So respect it.”
I looked at Marco.
He was clearly enjoying watching someone argue with me and survive.
“Get out.”
Marco’s smile disappeared.
“Sure.”
When the door closed, I turned back to Hannah.
“Eric may have helped murder my wife.”
“And he killed my daughter.”
“Exactly.”
“That doesn’t give you permission to execute him.”
“You’re assuming I would.”
“You had a gun pointed at me while I was feeding your son.”
Fair point.
I sat down.
“What do you suggest?”
“Evidence.”
“We have the kidnapper.”
“He’ll deny everything.”
“Then we find something he can’t deny.”
That afternoon, Marco discovered Eric Dalton’s construction company had performed emergency road work near the charity gala on the night Sophia died.
One of its crews had access to the exact street where the bomb was planted.
Dean joined us in the security room.
“So Dalton helped position the vehicle?”
“Looks that way,” Marco said.
“Who paid him?”
“We’re still tracing it.”
Hannah studied the records.
“Eric always complained his father treated him like an idiot.”
Dean glanced at her.
“Men like that talk when they think they’re impressive.”
Hannah looked at me.
“I can get him to talk.”
“No.”
“You wanted evidence.”
“Not badly enough to use you as bait.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Was that concern?”
“No.”
Dean coughed to hide a laugh.
I glared at him.
Hannah continued.
“Eric has been texting me since Lily died.”
“What?”
“He wants me to withdraw my statement.”
“You didn’t mention this?”
“I didn’t know my personal life was connected to your wife’s murder.”
“Show me.”
Her phone contained seventeen messages.
The final one read:
We should talk before you make another mistake.
My hands tightened.
“When did he send this?”
“Yesterday.”
“We set the meeting,” Marco said.
I looked at Hannah.
She nodded.
“No weapons near me.”
“That’s not happening.”
“Adrian.”
It was the first time she called me by my first name.
Everyone noticed.
She continued.
“If he sees your men, he’ll run.”
So we did it her way.
Mostly.
Hannah met Eric in a quiet café near Brooklyn Heights.
She wore a recording device.
My men occupied positions outside.
I listened from a surveillance van.
Eric arrived twelve minutes late.
He was handsome in the polished, expensive way money could manufacture.
He sat.
“You look good.”
Hannah’s voice was ice.
“My daughter is dead.”
Eric sighed.
“You always do this.”
“Do what?”
“Make everything dramatic.”
Inside the van, I reached for the door.
Marco grabbed my arm.
“Wait.”
Eric continued.
“You fell, Hannah.”
“You pushed me.”
“Nobody can prove that.”
“Is that what your father told you?”
Silence.
Then Eric laughed.
“My father fixes problems.”
“Like Adrian Rossi?”
Eric stopped laughing.
I leaned toward the monitor.
Hannah asked, “You know him?”
“No.”
“You said his name pretty quickly.”
“You’re working in his house.”
“How do you know where I work?”
Another silence.
Good.
Hannah had him.
Eric leaned forward.
“You need to quit.”
“Why?”
“Because that house is going down.”
My blood turned cold.
“What does that mean?”
“Just leave.”
“Who wants Rossi dead?”
Eric stood.
“We’re done.”
Hannah caught his wrist.
“Did you help kill Sophia Rossi?”
Eric jerked away.
“You have no idea what you're involved in.”
“Tell me.”
“You think Rossi’s enemies are strangers?”
He smiled.
“They’re sitting at his table.”
Then the café windows exploded.
I saw Hannah disappear beneath shattered glass.
I was out of the van before Marco could stop me.
Gunfire came from a black SUV.
My men returned fire.
Customers screamed and crawled across the floor.
I found Hannah behind the counter.
“You hit?”
“No.”
“Stay down.”
Eric was bleeding from his shoulder.
He grabbed Hannah’s ankle.
“Help me.”
She stared at him.
The man who had pushed her down a staircase.
The man whose violence had killed Lily.
“Please.”
Hannah looked at me.
“Save him.”
I hated those words.
But I dragged Eric behind cover.
The SUV escaped.
Twenty minutes later, Eric was in an ambulance under police guard.
Before they closed the doors, he grabbed my sleeve.
“I’ll tell you everything.”
“Start.”
His face was gray.
“The bombing wasn’t my idea.”
“Whose?”
“Victor Salerno.”
I knew the name.
Everyone did.
A rival who had spent years trying to break my organization.
But Eric shook his head.
“Salerno only arranged it.”
“Then who ordered it?”
Eric swallowed.
“Someone inside your family.”
“Name.”
“I don’t know his name.”
“Then you’re useless.”
“No.”
May you like
He looked terrified.
“I know where they’re meeting tonight.”
