Chapter 6 - THE ROAD TO ELENA
The original Delacroix accountant had left more than ledgers.
A recorded deposition.
Made shortly before his death.
His attorney released it under court order.
Victor watched with Marcus, Detective Ortega and counsel.
The accountant, Paul Delacroix, was eighty-two.
Thin.
Oxygen tube beneath his nose.
He spoke without drama.
“Twelve years ago my cousin Laurent wanted Victor Castellano removed.”
Laurent Delacroix.
Dead now.
“Someone inside Castellano’s estate sold us the family route.”
“Who?”
“Gregory Vance.”
Victor did not move.
Paul continued.
“Gregory said Victor would ride in the lead sedan with his wife and boy.”
He looked down.
“When the wrong people died, he panicked.”
Wrong people.
Victor’s hands closed.
Gregory had meant Victor to die.
Maybe Elena and Leo too.
Maybe collateral.
Did it matter?
Paul continued:
“He begged us to keep his name out of everything.”
In exchange, Gregory supplied warehouse routes for three more years.
Then broke away after the Delacroix family weakened.
Victor stood.
Walked out.
Marcus followed.
On the private terrace, Victor gripped the railing.
“He stood beside me.”
Marcus said nothing.
“At Leo’s grave.”
Still nothing.
“He held Elena’s mother upright.”
Victor laughed once.
“Fourteen years, Marcus.”
“Twelve after the attack.”
“Enough.”
“I know.”
Victor wanted Gregory dead.
Not abstractly.
Physically.
Immediately.
Then his phone rang.
Hannah.
He almost did not answer.
Did.
“Hello?”
“Poppy put your coin in my lunch bag.”
Victor looked down.
“What?”
“She apparently changed her mind about who needs luck.”
A sound escaped him.
Half laugh.
Half something worse.
Hannah became quiet.
“You found something.”
He looked toward the harbor.
“Yes.”
“Bad?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want to tell me?”
Not:
What happened?
Not:
What are you going to do?
Want.
Choice.
Victor told her.
Gregory sold the route.
Paul’s deposition.
The intended target.
When he finished, Hannah said nothing for several seconds.
Then:
“What are you going to do?”
He knew what she meant.
“Let police finish.”
“Is that what you want?”
“No.”
“Good.”
He frowned.
“Good?”
“It would scare me if revenge suddenly felt easy to you.”
Victor closed his eyes.
“Why do you keep saying things I don't want to hear?”
“Occupational habit.”
“You clean houses.”
“Exactly. People leave messes everywhere.”
He laughed despite himself.
Then Hannah became serious.
“Leo was six?”
“Yes.”
“Poppy is three.”
“Yes.”
“Then you know.”
“What?”
“What it means to imagine somebody touching your child because of something they want from you.”
Victor’s throat tightened.
“Yes.”
“Don't become another man who makes a child’s death useful.”
Silence.
That sentence stayed.
Not because Hannah had authority over him.
Because she was right.
Gregory would stand in court.
Evidence would speak.
May you like
Leo did not need Victor to kill someone to prove he had been loved.
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