Chapter 8 - When Frank Came Back
Frank survived.
The bullet missed his liver by less than an inch.
When I visited him in the hospital two days later, he looked terrible.
Naturally, I told him.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“You're welcome.”
Machines beeped around him.
His wife had gone home to shower.
I sat.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Eighteen years is too long for simple conversations after betrayal.
Even complicated betrayal.
“You should've told me,” I said.
“Yes.”
“You worked for Antonio.”
“Yes.”
“You reported on me.”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“First five years.”
My jaw tightened.
“Five.”
“Your father ordered it.”
“That doesn't help.”
“I know.”
“Then why stop?”
Frank stared at the ceiling.
“Because you came to my daughter's funeral.”
I had forgotten.
Frank's first child had died shortly after birth.
I remembered the church.
His wife couldn't stand.
Frank sat frozen.
Most men from the organization sent flowers.
I attended.
“I was your driver.”
He looked at me.
“Not family. Not leadership. Your driver.”
“So?”
“You stayed until everybody left.”
I said nothing.
“That was when I stopped reporting to Antonio.”
“You could've told me.”
“I was ashamed.”
That answer I understood.
Shame creates strange prisons.
“What about Sarah?”
“I should've protected her better.”
“Yes.”
“I thought Antonio wanted to scare her.”
“You should've known.”
“Yes.”
Again.
No excuses.
It was harder to remain angry when a man refused to defend himself.
“Emma thinks you're evil.”
Frank smiled weakly.
“Smart kid.”
“She might reconsider.”
“Don't ruin her judgment.”
I stood.
At the door, he said, “Nicholas.”
I looked back.
“Thank you for not killing me on Fifth Street.”
“I considered it.”
“I know.”
That almost became a joke.
Almost.
Outside Frank's room, Sarah waited with Emma and Leo.
Leo was asleep in a stroller.
A new stroller.
Straight wheels.
Emma had objected because the price tag was “ridiculous.”
Sarah had removed it before she saw.
“How is he?” Sarah asked.
“Annoying.”
“That means better.”
“Yes.”
Emma looked through the glass.
“He doesn't look scary.”
“He is.”
“He looks like somebody's uncle.”
“He is that too.”
Children hate categories.
Adults need them.
Good man.
Bad man.
Loyal.
Traitor.
Victim.
Criminal.
Frank had lied to me.
Spied on me.
Protected Sarah.
Risked his life for Leo.
Betrayed Antonio.
Saved mine more than once.
All of those statements were true.
The world would be easier if only one could be.
Sarah and I walked toward the elevator.
Federal investigators had spent two days dismantling Antonio's network.
They seized records from the foundation.
Closed fraudulent vendors.
Froze accounts.
Dozens of people were questioned.
Some had participated knowingly.
Others had been fooled.
“How bad is it?” Sarah asked.
“The foundation?”
She nodded.
“Potentially finished.”
Her expression fell.
“That hurts.”
“Why?”
“Because it did real good too.”
That was the worst part.
Thousands of children had received legitimate help.
Wheelchairs.
Housing.
Therapy.
Surgery.
Antonio had hidden corruption inside kindness because goodness made excellent camouflage.
“I'm thinking of closing it,” I said.
Sarah stopped walking.
“No.”
I looked at her.
“That sounded like an order.”
“Maybe.”
“You work for me?”
“Apparently I got fired.”
“Forged.”
“Still enjoyed the severance package.”
“You never received one.”
“Exactly.”
I almost smiled.
She continued.
“Don't destroy the good because someone corrupted it.”
“Sofia's name deserves better.”
“Then make it better.”
Simple.
Impossible.
Maybe necessary.
Emma interrupted.
“Can we get pizza?”
Sarah looked at her.
“It's ten in the morning.”
“So?”
“That's not breakfast.”
Nicholas Moretti, feared by a significant portion of Boston, found himself thinking carefully about the correct answer.
“Pizza has bread.”
Sarah stared at me.
“Don't encourage her.”
“Tomatoes.”
“Stop.”
“Cheese.”
Emma smiled.
“He's right.”
I won that argument.
We ate pizza at ten twenty-eight in the morning.
Leo woke and demanded his bottle.
Emma talked about school.
She hadn't attended in almost two weeks.
Sarah's face tightened.
“I have to fix everything.”
“You don't.”
She looked at me.
“You're not paying for my life.”
“I didn't say I was.”
“You're thinking it.”
“I am.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't want my daughter believing a powerful man appearing solves everything.”
That answer surprised me.
“What should she believe?”
“That people can help. But we still stand up ourselves.”
I respected that.
So instead of buying Sarah a house, I offered her a job.
Not accounting manager.
Director of financial integrity for the rebuilt foundation.
Independent authority.
External auditing.
Full access.
She laughed.
“You want the woman who exposed your fraud running compliance?”
“Exactly.”
“Your board will hate me.”
“Even better.”
“What if I say no?”
“Then I'll help you find another job.”
She studied me.
“No strings?”
“None.”
Emma leaned toward her.
“Say yes.”
Sarah looked at her daughter.
“Why?”
“Because then we can stop selling candy.”
Something changed in Sarah's face.
A mother's heartbreak often happens quietly.
She looked away.
I pretended not to notice.
Then Emma added:
“Unless we want to.”
Sarah laughed through tears.
“Yes.”
“To the job?”
“Yes.”
I held out my hand.
She shook it.
That should've been the beginning of peace.
It wasn't.
That afternoon, Dominic called.
Antonio had been moved into federal custody.
During transport, one of the vehicles was attacked.
Antonio survived.
May you like
Two agents were injured.
And Antonio disappeared.
