Chapter 2 - The Bullet Through the Window
Nora slammed the phone onto Dante’s desk and said, “Find whoever took that picture.”
Dante stared at the photograph of Liam outside P.S. 166.
A silver bracelet reflected in the corner of the image.
Nora recognized the pattern.
Marco wore the same one.
Then Dante whispered, “Nobody leaves this building.”
The penthouse changed in less than sixty seconds.
Doors locked.
Elevators froze.
Security guards appeared at both stairwells.
Dante issued orders with the calm efficiency of a man who had spent his entire adult life preparing for betrayal.
Nora barely heard them.
All she could see was Liam.
Blue backpack.
Red sneakers.
Head bent toward the sidewalk.
Unaware that somebody had been watching him.
She called his school.
No answer.
Again.
Voicemail.
She called Mrs. Delgado, their neighbor, who usually picked him up on days Nora worked late.
Nothing.
Her hand began shaking.
“Breathe,” Dante said.
“Do not tell me to breathe.”
“I’m sending people.”
“You are not sending armed strangers toward my child.”
“They’re not strangers to me.”
“That makes it worse.”
Dante’s eyes hardened.
“Nora.”
“No.”
He leaned forward in the wheelchair.
“Whoever sent that message already knows where your son is. You can either let me put trained men between him and them, or you can race across Manhattan alone and hope you get there first.”
She hated him for making sense.
“Who?”
“My cousin Gabriel.”
“No Marco.”
“Agreed.”
Dante made the call.
Gabriel Moretti answered immediately.
“School. Queens. Ten-year-old boy named Liam Walsh. Blue backpack. Find him and stay visible.”
There was no explanation.
No question.
Gabriel simply said, “On it.”
Nora paced.
Dante watched.
“You think Marco took the photo.”
She stopped.
“The bracelet.”
“I saw it.”
“Then arrest him.”
“This isn’t a police station.”
“Whatever version of arrest you people do.”
“Marco’s been beside me twelve years.”
“So was Kaplan.”
“That doesn’t make him guilty.”
“It makes everyone guilty until my son is safe.”
Dante nodded once.
“Fair.”
Seven minutes later, Nora’s phone rang.
Mrs. Delgado.
Nora nearly dropped it answering.
“Where is he?”
“Nora?”
“Liam.”
“He’s with me.”
Nora closed her eyes.
Her knees almost failed.
Dante rolled closer but did not touch her.
Mrs. Delgado continued.
“Some man was standing near the school gate. Liam got nervous, so we took the side exit. We’re at the bakery.”
“What man?”
“I don’t know. Tall. Black coat.”
“Stay inside.”
“Nora, what’s happening?”
“I’ll explain later.”
She hung up.
Dante called Gabriel.
“Bakery on Forty-Sixth Avenue.”
He ended the call.
Nora sank into a chair.
For the first time that day, fear broke through.
Not tears.
Not yet.
Just the ugly knowledge that she had walked into someone else’s war and carried her child inside with her.
“I quit,” she said.
Dante did not answer.
“I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“I’ll sign anything. I’ll forget the pills.”
“You won’t forget.”
“I’ll pretend.”
“They won’t believe you.”
“Then tell them you fired me.”
“They won’t believe that either.”
“Why?”
“Because you found something nine assistants missed.”
Nora laughed bitterly.
“So competence gets me killed.”
“Sometimes.”
“You really are terrible at employee retention.”
His mouth almost moved.
Then his phone rang.
Gabriel.
Dante answered.
“I have the boy.”
Nora stood.
Gabriel continued.
“He’s fine. Mrs. Delgado too. But we found something.”
“What?”
“The man watching the school left a phone in a trash can.”
“Bring it.”
“There’s more.”
Gabriel paused.
“He knew we were coming.”
Dante’s face changed.
“How?”
“He was gone thirty seconds before we arrived.”
Nora looked toward the security cameras mounted inside the penthouse.
“Someone here told him.”
Dante said nothing.
By two o’clock, Liam was inside a protected apartment owned by the Moretti family.
Nora spoke to him twice.
She lied.
She told him there had been a problem at work.
She told him she would come soon.
She told him everything was fine.
Children know when adults lie badly.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Are you scared?”
Nora looked at Dante.
“No.”
Liam was quiet.
“Okay.”
She almost cried then.
After the call, Dante said, “You can go to him.”
“And whoever is watching me follows.”
“I’ll send you through the service garage.”
“No.”
“You just quit.”
“I changed my mind.”
“Why?”
“Because somebody threatened my son to protect those pills.”
Dante studied her.
“That means the pills matter more than I thought.”
“Exactly.”
“You’re staying because you’re angry.”
“I’m Irish. It’s practically a retirement plan.”
Dante actually smiled.
The moment lasted half a second.
Then Marco entered.
“You locked down my security team.”
Dante’s expression went flat.
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because someone photographed Ms. Walsh’s son.”
Marco looked at Nora.
Too surprised.
Too carefully surprised.
“That’s unacceptable.”
Nora crossed her arms.
“Strong reaction.”
His eyes narrowed.
“What are you implying?”
“Nothing.”
“Then say nothing.”
Dante’s voice cut between them.
“Marco.”
He stopped.
Dante pointed toward the silver bracelet on Marco’s wrist.
“Where did you get that?”
Marco looked down.
“My father.”
“How many exist?”
“One.”
Nora took out her phone.
She enlarged the photograph.
The silver pattern in the corner became clearer.
Marco stared.
For the first time, his composure broke.
“That’s not mine.”
“It looks like yours,” Nora said.
“I said it isn’t.”
“Take yours off.”
He did.
Dante compared them.
The pattern matched.
But one detail did not.
Marco’s bracelet had a small black stone near the clasp.
The one in the photograph did not.
Marco exhaled.
“My brother has the other one.”
Silence.
Dante’s eyes lifted.
“What brother?”
Marco’s expression changed.
Nora felt the temperature in the room drop.
“Tell me,” Dante said.
Marco looked toward the windows.
“My younger brother.”
“You told me he died.”
“I thought he did.”
“When?”
“Six years ago.”
“And now?”
Marco’s jaw tightened.
“He came back three months ago.”
The same time Dante’s medication changed.
Nora stared at him.
“What’s his name?”
“Enzo.”
Dante leaned back slowly.
Nora saw recognition.
Not of the name.
Of something worse.
“You knew,” she said.
Dante did not answer.
“You knew that name.”
He finally looked at her.
“Enzo Bellini worked for my uncle.”
“What uncle?”
“Salvatore Moretti.”
Nora had heard that name.
Everyone in New York had.
Salvatore Moretti had been the public face of the Moretti shipping empire before dying in a car explosion nine years earlier.
Officially, Dante inherited everything.
Unofficially, rumors claimed Salvatore had been murdered.
“Your dead uncle employed Marco’s dead brother,” Nora said.
“Apparently nobody stayed dead.”
Marco looked sick.
Dante turned toward him.
“You’ve been in contact?”
“No.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“I saw him once.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Where?”
“Outside Kaplan’s office.”
There it was.
The connection.
Kaplan.
Enzo.
The pills.
Nora looked at Dante.
“Your doctor knew him.”
Marco nodded.
“I confronted Kaplan.”
“What did he say?”
“That I was mistaken.”
“And you believed him?”
“No.”
“Then why didn’t you tell Dante?”
Marco’s face tightened.
“Because Enzo said if I did, he’d kill my daughter.”
Nora’s anger faltered.
Marco had a daughter.
Suddenly the photograph of Liam looked different.
The same weapon.
Different target.
Dante’s voice softened.
“You should have told me.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t.”
Marco lowered his head.
Dante turned away.
“Where’s Kaplan?”
“Medical floor.”
“Bring him.”
Marco left.
Nora watched Dante.
“You believe him?”
“I believe fear.”
“So do I.”
They waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Then Dante’s phone rang.
A guard.
“Kaplan’s gone.”
“How?”
“Service elevator.”
“Who authorized it?”
Silence.
Then:
“Your code did.”
Dante looked at Nora.
Only a handful of people knew his private code.
Nora heard footsteps in the hallway.
Running.
Marco burst in.
“Get away from the windows.”
The first bullet punched through the tall library window at 12:17 a.m.
Hours had passed since Kaplan disappeared.
They had moved from the bedroom to Dante’s private library to review security logs.
Antique glass exploded across the Persian rug like crushed ice.
Nora did not scream.
She dropped.
Dante grabbed her sleeve and pulled her behind the heavy oak desk.
A second bullet struck the wall.
A third hit Dante’s wheelchair.
Metal sparked.
“Down!” Marco shouted.
Security lights died.
The penthouse went black.
Nora heard men moving.
Someone shouted from the hall.
Then a gunshot inside the apartment.
Not from outside.
Inside.
Dante’s hand closed over Nora’s wrist.
“Stay with me.”
“You’re the one in a wheelchair.”
“Not the time.”
Another shot.
Closer.
Marco yelled something.
A body fell.
Then silence.
Nora heard breathing.
Not Dante’s.
Someone else was behind the desk.
She slowly lifted her eyes.
A shadow moved on the other side.
Dante reached beneath the desk and opened a hidden drawer.
Inside was a pistol.
And beneath it—
a photograph.
Nora saw herself.
Ten years younger.
Holding newborn Liam outside a Queens hospital.
On the back, someone had written:
THE WALSH WOMAN KNOWS WHERE SALVATORE HID IT.
Nora stared at Dante.
“I’ve never seen that picture.”
Dante turned it over again.
May you like
Then a voice came from the darkness behind them.
“Maybe your mother did.”
