Chapter 5 - The Night Rico Had to Choose
Dr. Feld told Rico not to correct Leo’s logic.
“A three-year-old doesn’t need a philosophical explanation of death,” she said. “He needs his fear acknowledged.”
Rico sat stiffly on the sofa.
“So I tell him his mother broke a promise?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“You tell him she wanted to come home.”
His jaw tightened.
“And that sometimes terrible things happen that children did not cause and adults could not stop.”
Rico looked at Clara.
She could see the resistance in him.
Rico Moretti had built his entire life around stopping terrible things.
Or punishing them afterward.
Accepting that something could not be undone offended every instinct he had.
That evening, he tried anyway.
Clara stayed in the hall while Rico sat on Leo’s bed.
“Mommy wanted to come home,” he said.
Leo clutched a stuffed bear.
“Why didn’t?”
Rico’s voice caught.
Clara had never heard that sound from him.
“She got hurt.”
“Doctor?”
“Doctors tried.”
“Did she cry?”
Rico closed his eyes.
“I don’t know.”
Leo thought about that.
Then he asked, “You get hurt?”
Rico opened his eyes.
The question seemed to strike him harder than any accusation.
“I try not to.”
“That’s not a promise,” Leo said.
Clara covered her mouth.
Dr. Feld had taught Leo those words.
Rico looked toward the hallway.
Clara saw him understand that his son had become frighteningly observant.
“No,” Rico said. “It isn’t.”
Leo’s eyes filled.
Rico leaned closer.
“But I promise I will do everything I can to come home to you.”
Leo whispered, “Everything?”
“Everything.”
Later, after Leo slept, Dante arrived.
Clara recognized the tension immediately.
“I should go.”
Rico stopped her.
“Stay.”
Dante didn’t like that.
His eyes said so.
Rico led them into the study.
A map of New York hung behind the desk. The room smelled faintly of tobacco though Clara had never seen Rico smoke.
Dante shut the door.
“We found him.”
Rico’s face became unreadable.
“Confirmed?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Staten Island. Staying above a body shop. Moving tomorrow.”
Clara understood before anyone explained.
One of the men involved in Elena’s shooting.
Dante placed a photograph on the desk.
Clara looked away.
“This is not my business.”
“No,” Rico said.
She turned toward the door.
“But Leo is.”
That stopped her.
Dante stared at Rico.
“Tonight is our chance.”
Rico walked to the window.
“Who else knows?”
“Three men.”
“Police?”
Dante gave him a humorless look.
“No.”
Clara’s stomach tightened.
She knew enough about Rico’s world not to ask what “our chance” meant.
But she thought of Leo upstairs.
Everything.
“You made him a promise,” she said.
Dante turned.
“This doesn’t concern you.”
Rico lifted one hand.
Dante stopped.
Clara looked at Rico.
“You said everything.”
His jaw flexed.
“This man helped kill my wife.”
“I know.”
“You don’t know.”
“You’re right. I don’t know what that feels like.”
“Then don’t tell me what to do.”
“I’m telling you what your son will understand.”
Rico faced her.
“And what is that?”
“That his father said he’d do everything to come home, then walked out the door to settle something with men who use guns.”
Dante stepped forward.
“Careful.”
Clara ignored him.
Rico’s eyes burned.
“You think I can just let it go?”
“No.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying there’s a difference between justice and making sure somebody’s mother gets another phone call.”
The words hung between them.
Dante looked furious.
Rico looked wounded.
Clara hated herself a little for saying it.
But not enough to take it back.
Rico moved toward the desk.
He picked up the photograph.
“Elena died because of me.”
Clara’s voice softened.
“She died because someone chose to shoot at her car.”
“They were looking for me.”
“That doesn’t make you innocent.”
He looked at her sharply.
Clara forced herself to continue.
“But guilt and responsibility aren’t the same thing.”
Rico laughed once without humor.
“You’ve known me three weeks.”
“I know what your son watches.”
That silenced him.
“He watches doors,” Clara said. “He watches your hands. He watches who comes into the house. He knows when Dante arrives late, you disappear. He may not understand why. But he understands patterns.”
Dante looked toward the floor.
Clara realized he knew she was right.
Rico turned back to the window.
Minutes passed.
Finally, he asked, “If I hand the information to the police, what happens?”
Dante frowned.
“Depends what they can prove.”
“Can they arrest him?”
“With what we have? Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What do we have?”
Dante hesitated.
“That’s a conversation for another day.”
“No. Now.”
For the next twenty minutes, Clara listened to fragments she barely understood.
Vehicle descriptions.
A witness who had already spoken to detectives but refused to identify anyone formally.
A license plate connected to a shell company.
Phone location records the police might be able to obtain legally if pointed toward the right person.
Rico sat behind the desk.
Every few minutes, his eyes lifted toward the ceiling.
Toward Leo.
At last he picked up his phone.
Dante said, “Boss.”
Rico held up a hand.
Then he called his attorney.
Not a soldier.
Not another capo.
His attorney.
“I need you to contact the detective handling Elena’s case.”
Dante closed his eyes.
Rico continued.
“We have information.”
A pause.
“No. I don’t want to know what you think. I want it transferred through you in a way that can actually be used.”
Another pause.
“Yes.”
He ended the call.
Dante stared at him.
“So that’s it?”
Rico looked at him.
“For tonight.”
“The family will call this weakness.”
Rico’s expression hardened.
“Then the family can explain why revenge matters more than my son.”
Dante said nothing.
Rico took the photograph and locked it in a drawer.
Clara let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
Then a small sound came from the doorway.
Leo.
He stood there barefoot.
Rico rose instantly.
“What are you doing up?”
Leo looked from Dante to Clara.
Then back at Rico.
“You go?”
Rico walked around the desk.
“No.”
Leo’s eyes searched his face.
“Promise?”
Rico crouched.
“Yes.”
The boy took a hesitant step.
Rico opened his arms but didn’t reach.
Leo came to him.
His small arms wrapped around Rico’s neck.
Rico held him.
Dante turned away.
Clara did too.
Then she heard Leo whisper against his father’s shoulder.
“Daddy stayed.”
Rico closed his eyes.
May you like
And Clara understood that for Leo, this was not a small victory.
It was the first time grief had been asked to compete with proof.
