Chapter 11 - What Vincent Sold
Lydia watched the video twice.
Lorenzo shut it off.
“You're not going.”
“Yes, I am.”
“No.”
“There's that word again.”
“Lydia, he wants to kill you.”
“He's wanted that for six years.”
“And I'm supposed to deliver you?”
“No. You're supposed to help me make him think you did.”
Carlo stared at her.
“You have a plan?”
“I have the beginning of one.”
Mateo typed:
BAD.
PLAN?
“Probably.”
Mateo typed:
GOOD.
Lydia smiled despite herself.
Vincent regained consciousness at the hospital.
They questioned him.
He admitted everything.
He had sold schedules.
Routes.
Medical appointments.
Security codes.
Blackwood had paid him.
But Vincent insisted Vane had always been the real authority.
“Why attack Mateo?” Lorenzo asked.
“Because he knew.”
“You could have walked away.”
Vincent laughed bitterly.
“You think men like Vane let people walk away?”
Lydia stood at the foot of his bed.
“My father tried to help you.”
Vincent couldn't look at her.
“Yes.”
“And you helped kill him.”
“I gave Carlo the location of the shop.”
Her throat tightened.
“Why?”
“They had my sister.”
“Did they?”
Vincent looked confused.
“What?”
“Did you ever see proof?”
Silence.
He hadn't.
Blackwood had manipulated him with fear.
Exactly as he'd manipulated Cole.
Exactly as Vane had manipulated everyone.
Lydia didn't forgive Vincent.
Understanding wasn't forgiveness.
But truth mattered.
“Where will Vane take Mercer?”
Vincent answered.
“Old municipal courthouse annex.”
Lorenzo knew it.
Vane controlled the redevelopment project.
They prepared carefully.
No army.
No dramatic assault.
Lydia wore a wire.
Lorenzo hated every second of it.
Before she left, he stopped her in the hallway.
“If something goes wrong—”
“I know.”
“No.”
His voice softened.
“You don't.”
She looked at him.
“I spent years thinking protecting people meant controlling every variable.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
“It is.”
He almost smiled.
Then became serious.
“I can't control this.”
“No.”
“And I hate it.”
“I know.”
His hand touched hers.
“Come back.”
Not an order.
A request.
Lydia squeezed his fingers.
“I plan to.”
The courthouse annex smelled of dust.
Vane waited upstairs.
Mercer sat restrained.
Blackwood stood beside him.
Carlo accompanied Lydia, pretending loyalty to Vane.
Vane smiled.
“Ms. Coppola.”
“Alderman.”
“You've been inconvenient for a very long time.”
“I get that a lot.”
“Your father had the same defect.”
Lydia's jaw tightened.
“Where's Mercer?”
“Alive.”
“For now?”
“For now.”
Vane wanted the original files.
Lydia handed him a drive.
Fake.
He inserted it.
Carlo moved subtly toward Mercer.
Blackwood noticed.
“Don't.”
Everything stopped.
Blackwood aimed at Carlo.
Vane looked disappointed.
“You always were sentimental.”
Carlo said, “And you were always a coward.”
Vane nodded toward Blackwood.
“Kill him.”
Before Blackwood fired, Lydia spoke.
“Your confession is already uploaded.”
Vane froze.
“What?”
“You've been talking for six minutes.”
She touched the wire.
“Everything you said is being recorded.”
Vane laughed.
“To Lorenzo? He can't use it without incriminating himself.”
“Not Lorenzo.”
His smile faded.
“Then who?”
“Every newsroom Frank trusted.”
That was a bluff.
For the moment.
But Vane didn't know.
He lunged toward her.
Carlo moved.
Blackwood fired.
The bullet struck Carlo.
Lydia caught him as he fell.
Lorenzo's men entered.
Blackwood fled through a side stairwell.
Mercer was freed.
Vane disappeared through another door before police units—real ones, contacted through federal investigators Mercer trusted—surrounded the building.
Carlo was bleeding badly.
Lydia pressed against the wound.
He looked at her.
“Frank would've liked you.”
“He did like me.”
Carlo laughed weakly.
“Right.”
“Stay awake.”
“I tried to fix it.”
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
His hand caught her sleeve.
“There was one thing Vincent never sold.”
“What?”
Carlo whispered.
“Mateo's location the night of the ambush.”
Lydia frowned.
“Then how did they find him?”
Carlo's eyes moved toward Lorenzo.
“Ask him.”
Lydia went still.
Across the room, Lorenzo had heard.
His face lost all color.
May you like
Carlo whispered one final sentence before losing consciousness.
“Someone in Lorenzo's own family gave them Mateo.”
