Chapter 2 - What Vincent Had Done
Vincent did not go home.
He sat in the back seat of the car outside Grace’s building while rain collected along the windshield and one of his bodyguards, Marco, pretended not to look at the red mark on his face.
Luis drove.
No one spoke for three blocks.
Then Marco said, “You want ice?”
“No.”
Another block.
“You want me to find Mercer?”
Vincent looked out the window.
“That is exactly what I do not want you to do.”
Marco glanced at him in the mirror.
Vincent understood the surprise.
For most of his adult life, “find him” had been the beginning of solving a problem.
Tonight it would be the beginning of making the same mistake twice.
Eight years earlier, Daniel Mercer had come to Vincent begging for protection.
That was the part Grace did not know.
Daniel had made a stupid bargain with men who believed fear was a currency. He had promised them access to information he should not have had.
At first, Vincent had assumed Daniel was lying to save himself.
Then Vincent’s younger brother, Paul, had been attacked outside a rental house on the South Side.
Paul survived.
Two broken ribs, a fractured hand, twenty-seven stitches above one eyebrow.
The address had come from Daniel.
Vincent had found him the same night.
Daniel had cried before Vincent ever touched him.
Vincent remembered that clearly because it had disgusted him at the time.
“You have a woman,” Vincent had said.
Daniel’s eyes had lifted.
“Grace isn’t part of this.”
“You made her part of it when you brought people to her building.”
“I didn’t tell them where she lives.”
“You used her car.”
Daniel had looked away.
Vincent had made a decision then that he had called mercy for eight years.
Leave Chicago.
Leave Grace.
Leave the neighborhood.
Do not come back.
In exchange, Vincent would not hand Daniel over to men who wanted compensation for what had happened to Paul, and he would not make a police report about the money Daniel had taken from one of Vincent’s legitimate businesses to cover his debts.
Daniel had accepted.
Not bravely.
Not nobly.
He had packed one duffel bag and left before sunrise.
Vincent had believed Grace would be safer not knowing.
That was the lie he had told himself.
He had never asked her what she wanted to know.
At the mansion, Vincent went into his study and opened the bottom drawer of his desk.
There was no secret file.
No photograph.
No convenient document that explained the past.
There was only a faded business card from a repair shop Daniel had once worked for and a number Vincent had not called in eight years.
He picked it up.
Then put it down.
At 1:12 in the morning, his phone rang.
Marco’s name appeared.
Vincent answered.
“Patrick Shaw has a lawyer.”
“That was fast.”
“He also has an employment record.”
Vincent sat back.
“For Mercer Residential?”
“Yes.”
“Doing what?”
“Property acquisition support. Security sometimes.”
Vincent closed his eyes.
“Don’t dig further.”
Marco was quiet.
“Boss.”
“I mean it.”
“You think Mercer’s coming back.”
“I think Mercer never stopped being capable of making bad choices and explaining them as somebody else’s fault.”
Marco hesitated.
“And you?”
Vincent opened his eyes.
“What about me?”
“You planning to explain yours that way?”
Vincent stared at the phone.
Marco had worked for him long enough to say things almost no one else would.
“Good night, Marco.”
“Night, boss.”
The next morning, Vincent went to the diner at seven.
Emily was not there.
Her usual booth was empty.
The jar was not on his table.
He should have expected that.
Martha, the waitress who had served him for twelve years, set down coffee and said, “You scared that child’s mother half to death.”
“I didn’t tell the child to approach me.”
“No. You just look very approachable.”
Vincent looked at her.
Martha poured coffee into the cup.
“Don’t do the face.”
“What face?”
“The one that makes grown men remember appointments in other states.”
Vincent leaned back.
“Did Grace call?”
“No.”
“Do you know if she went to work?”
Martha stopped pouring.
“Vincent.”
He waited.
“She is not one of your problems to manage.”
“I know.”
Martha’s eyebrows rose.
“That sounded almost believable.”
Vincent looked toward the window.
Across the street, children in backpacks were heading toward school.
He saw Emily before she saw him.
She was walking beside Grace, holding her mother’s hand.
Grace noticed the diner.
Then noticed Vincent through the glass.
Her grip on Emily tightened.
Emily tugged her toward the door.
Grace shook her head.
Emily said something.
Grace stopped.
For nearly thirty seconds, mother and daughter stood on the sidewalk arguing quietly.
Then Grace opened the door.
Emily came in first.
She carried the jar.
Vincent stood.
Grace’s eyes went immediately to the movement.
“Sit down.”
He sat.
Emily placed the jar on the table again.
“I want my money back.”
Vincent slid it toward her.
“All of it.”
“I didn’t take any.”
She turned the jar slowly, checking the tape label on the bottom.
Grace remained standing.
“We need to talk.”
Vincent looked at Emily.
Grace followed his eyes.
“She knows Daniel is her father. She knows he is alive somewhere. She knows you knew him.”
Emily climbed into the booth opposite Vincent.
“I also know Mom is mad at you.”
Vincent nodded.
“She has good reason.”
Emily looked at his cheek.
“Did she hit you?”
Grace closed her eyes.
“Emily.”
Vincent said, “Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I kept something from her that I should not have kept.”
Emily considered that.
“Did it hurt?”
“A little.”
“Good.”
Grace sat down hard.
“Emily.”
“What?”
Martha appeared with orange juice and placed it in front of the girl without asking.
Grace looked at Vincent.
“I spoke to a tenant attorney this morning.”
“Good.”
“He says the sale is pending. Mercer Residential has an agreement to purchase the building, but they do not own it yet. The notices Patrick brought were not from my landlord.”
Vincent nodded.
“And the Friday deadline?”
“Not legal.”
Emily drank orange juice.
“So we don’t have to move Friday?”
“No.”
Grace’s voice softened.
“Not Friday.”
Emily smiled for the first time.
Then Grace looked back at Vincent.
“But I still need the truth.”
Vincent folded his hands on the table.
He told her.
Not every detail.
Not names she did not need.
Not old violence dressed up as legend.
He told her Daniel had gotten into debt. He told her Daniel had passed information to people who hurt Vincent’s brother. He told her Daniel had used Grace’s car while doing things he had promised would never touch her life.
Then Vincent said the sentence that cost him the most.
“I told him to leave you.”
Grace did not move.
Emily stopped drinking.
Vincent continued.
“I believed I was keeping you safe.”
Grace’s face went flat.
“You believed.”
“Yes.”
“You did not ask me.”
“No.”
“You did not tell me.”
“No.”
“You decided.”
“Yes.”
Emily looked from one adult to the other.
Grace stood.
“Thank you.”
Vincent had expected anger.
The politeness was worse.
“Grace.”
She put one hand on Emily’s shoulder.
“I needed to know whether Daniel abandoned us because he wanted to or because you made him.”
Vincent looked at her.
“The answer is both.”
Grace swallowed.
Then she nodded.
That answer hurt because it gave her no clean villain.
At the door, Emily turned back.
“Mr. Romano?”
“Yes?”
“Do you know where my dad is?”
Vincent looked at Grace.
This time, he did not answer first.
Grace said, “We’re going to find that out together.”
Emily nodded.
Vincent watched them leave.
May you like
His coffee went cold.
For once, he let it.
