Chapter 8: The Vescari Answer
Marco Vescari called at noon.
Dominic was still in the car when the number came through — a number he recognized because Caruso had flagged it two years ago as belonging to Enzo Vescari's eldest son.
He had never used it before.
Dominic answered.
"Moretti." Marco's voice was careful.
Measured.
The voice of a man who had prepared what he wanted to say.
"I'm calling because my brother has made a decision I don't agree with."
"I'm listening."
"Nico believes that taking something from you is the fastest way to end this.
I believe it's the fastest way to start something neither family can survive." A pause.
"Our father is in the hospital.
He has perhaps three weeks.
When he is gone, I intend to lead this organization.
And I intend to lead it differently."
"What do you want, Marco?"
"A meeting.
Neutral ground.
You and me, two men each.
No weapons.
I want to talk about ending this."
"Your brother won't accept that."
"My brother doesn't lead yet."
Dominic looked out the window at the highway.
Connecticut was forty minutes away.
"If I come to that meeting," he said, "and it's a setup—"
"It won't be."
"If it is, there will be no version of this that ends well for your family.
You understand that."
"I understand that," Marco said.
"Which is why it won't be." A pause.
"I know about the child, Moretti.
I knew before Nico did.
I've known for two months.
If I had wanted to use her, I would have."
Dominic was quiet.
"I'm not my brother," Marco said.
"And I'm not my father.
I want this finished.
Properly.
With both families still standing."
"When?"
"Tomorrow.
I'll send the location to this number."
The call ended.
Dominic looked at Caruso in the passenger seat.
"You heard?" Dominic said.
"Every word."
"Thoughts?"
Caruso considered.
"Marco has always been the reasonable one.
The father kept him in check because Enzo liked the war.
Without Enzo—" he paused— "Marco might actually mean it."
"And Nico?"
"Nico is the problem.
Even if Marco takes over, Nico won't disappear."
"No," Dominic agreed.
"He won't."
They drove in silence for a while.
"The FBI contact," Dominic said.
"How quickly can they move on Nico specifically?"
"If Webb's statement is as complete as he says, and if we give them Ferrante's name and the payment records—" Caruso thought— "forty-eight hours.
Maybe less."
"Then we keep Marco talking for forty-eight hours."
Caruso nodded slowly.
"And Nico walks into a federal case he doesn't know exists."
"Yes."
"It's a tight window."
"I know."
"And if Marco's call was itself a setup to buy Nico time—"
"Then we find out at the meeting," Dominic said.
"And we deal with it."
Caruso said nothing further.
He had worked for the Moretti family long enough to know that some sentences didn't need a response.
The Connecticut gate came into view.
Elena was outside on the front step when the car pulled up, arms crossed, wearing a coat that cost more than most people's monthly rent.
She looked at Dominic the way she had looked at him since they were children — with complete, unvarnished assessment.
"She's inside," Elena said.
"Lily is teaching her how to draw horses.
Sophia is very bad at horses."
"How is she?"
"Scared.
Holding it together.
Angry at you in a way that is clearly not entirely about the current situation." Elena tilted her head.
"She's also been looking at the gate every twenty minutes."
"For threats?"
"For you." Elena put a hand briefly on his arm.
"Go inside, Dominic.
Fix what you can fix.
The rest will sort itself."
He went inside.
Sophia was at the kitchen table with Lily, a large piece of paper between them covered in crayon drawings.
Lily's horse was recognizable.
Sophia's looked like a very optimistic dog.
Lily looked up.
"She's really bad at horses."
"I can see that."
Sophia set down her crayon.
"Lily, can you go show Aunt Elena your rabbit?"
Lily picked up the rabbit with great dignity and went to find Elena.
Sophia looked at Dominic.
He sat down and told her everything.
Marco's call.
Nico's plan.
Webb's full statement.
The FBI timeline.
He told her clearly, without softening, because she had asked for real answers and she had meant it.
When he finished, she was quiet for a long moment.
"So for forty-eight hours," she said, "Lily is still in danger."
"Yes.
But she's here, behind a gate, with Caruso's team outside and Elena inside.
This is the safest place she can be right now."
"And after forty-eight hours?"
"Nico Vescari is in federal custody, and his operation loses its head.
Marco takes over and we have a conversation about ending this permanently."
"And if something goes wrong in those forty-eight hours?"
"Then I deal with it."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only honest one I have."
She looked at him for a long time.
Then she looked at the table, at the crayon horses, at the piece of paper Lily had written MAMA AND ME across the top in large, careful letters.
"I spent six years being angry," she said.
"Then I spent three months being scared and trying not to show Lily.
And now I'm sitting in your sister's house in Connecticut drawing terrible horses and waiting to find out if my daughter is safe." She looked up.
"I need this to be over, Dominic."
"I know."
"Not managed.
Over."
"I know."
She reached across the table and picked up a blue crayon.
She looked at it for a moment.
"Then go do what you need to do," she said.
"And come back when it's finished."
He stood.
"Sophia."
She looked up.
"I'm going to need to tell her," he said.
"About who I am to her.
Not today.
Not while this is still happening.
But after.
She deserves to know."
Sophia held the blue crayon in both hands.
"I know," she said quietly.
"I've known that since the moment she walked out the door this morning and got on a train." She paused.
"She already trusts you.
That's either very good instincts or very poor ones."
"In my experience, children that age have excellent instincts."
"Don't flatter yourself." But the corner of her mouth moved.
"Go.
May you like
Come back safe."
He went.
