Chapter 10: Terms
Dante's lawyer was a man named Gerald Foss.
Amara had met him seven times over eight years.
At dinners.
At a charity event.
Once at a hospital when Dante had a minor procedure and Foss had appeared in the waiting room with a briefcase, as if illness were a contract negotiation.
She had always found him watchful in a way that made her feel like a variable being assessed.
She was not in the room when Foss met with Ashworth.
She was not supposed to be.
But Reyes called her at six that evening and read her the summary.
Dante was offering names.
Three of them.
Men above him in the operation — the people who had built the structure before he joined it at thirty-two, the people he had served for eleven years while building his own layer underneath theirs.
In exchange, he wanted the six counts reduced to two.
He wanted to serve any sentence in a facility of his choosing.
He wanted his personal assets — the ones not connected to the shell companies — protected from seizure.
And he wanted Amara's cooperation agreement to include a clause preventing her from speaking publicly about the case.
Ashworth had said no to the last condition before Foss finished the sentence.
"He wanted to silence me," Amara said.
"He wanted to limit his exposure," Reyes said.
"Same thing, different framing."
"What did Ashworth say?"
"She said the cooperation agreement is between you and the government.
It is not a negotiating chip for Dante Moretti."
Amara was standing at Nadia's kitchen window.
The street below was quiet.
A woman walking a small dog.
A delivery truck idling at the corner.
"Is he going to cooperate?" she asked.
"Foss is calling back tomorrow morning with a decision.
But Ashworth thinks yes.
The alternative is too costly."
"And Selena?"
"She's already cooperating.
Fully.
She gave us the voicemail recording, which is eleven minutes of her describing everything she knew about the operation going back four years.
She says she was told the transfers to her account were legitimate consulting fees.
We're still assessing that."
"Do you believe her?"
A pause.
"Ashworth believes she's telling the truth about some of it.
The rest is still being evaluated."
Amara looked at the street.
"She warned me," she said again.
"She didn't have to do that."
"No.
She didn't."
"What happens to her?"
"If her cooperation holds and her account of events is accurate, she'll likely face civil penalties rather than criminal charges.
She'll lose the townhouse — it was purchased with funds from the shell company.
But she won't go to prison."
Amara thought about Selena in the doorway of the bedroom.
*You don't have to go.
That's not what either of us wanted.* The expression that had shifted when Amara said the word *copies.*
She had been afraid too.
Just of different things.
"I want to ask you something," Amara said.
"Go ahead."
"The person inside your building.
The one Dante's lawyer called after Selena called him.
What happened with that?"
A longer pause.
"That's being handled internally," Reyes said.
"It's separate from your case."
"But it's real."
"Yes.
It's real."
"So there was someone in your building who was feeding information to Dante's lawyer."
"There was someone who received a call.
Whether they acted on it is still being determined."
"That's why you told me not to go home that night."
"Yes."
Amara absorbed this.
A leak inside the investigation.
Another layer she hadn't known about.
Another thing Dante had built — or bought — without her seeing it.
"Is it closed?" she asked.
"The leak."
"The person has been placed on administrative leave pending review," Reyes said.
"You are not at risk from that direction anymore."
"Okay."
"Mrs.
Moretti.
I want to say something."
"Say it."
"When we identified you on those traffic cameras two Fridays ago — outside the airfield, then outside the Larimer property — we debated whether to approach you.
We decided not to.
We thought you were a civilian who had stumbled into something and would go home and stay quiet."
"I almost did," Amara said.
"I know.
But you didn't." A pause.
"The document you retrieved is going to be the centerpiece of this prosecution.
Without it, we had a case.
With it, we have a conviction."
Amara didn't say anything.
"You did that," Reyes said.
"While six months pregnant.
While living in that house.
While he had no idea."
"He thought I wasn't paying attention," she said.
"Yes," Reyes said.
"He made that mistake once."
She said goodnight and ended the call.
Nadia was in the living room.
She looked up when Amara came in.
"How are you doing?" Nadia asked.
Amara sat down on the couch.
She thought about the question honestly.
"I'm tired," she said.
"And I'm scared.
And I think it's going to be okay."
"That's a lot of things to be at once."
"Yes."
Nadia handed her a blanket from the arm of the couch.
Amara pulled it over her legs.
"Nadia," she said.
"Eight years ago.
When I told you I was going to marry him.
What did you think?"
Nadia was quiet for a moment.
"I thought you were in love," she said.
"And I thought he was the kind of man who would eventually ask you to pay for it."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"You wouldn't have heard me." Nadia paused.
"And I wasn't sure I was right."
"Were you?"
"About the love?
Yes.
About the cost?" She looked at Amara.
"I didn't know it would be this expensive."
Amara looked at the blanket over her knees.
"She's going to be okay," Nadia said.
"Your daughter."
"I know."
"You're going to make sure of it."
"I know that too."
Nadia turned off the lamp on the side table.
The room went soft and dim.
"Get some sleep," she said.
"Tomorrow is going to be a long day."
Amara lay down on the couch.
She pulled the blanket up.
Her phone was silent.
Outside, the city made its ordinary sounds.
She was asleep before she heard them stop.
May you like
In the morning, Foss called Ashworth at nine.
Dante would cooperate.
