Chapter 2 - THE BROTHER WHO NEVER CAME HOME
I hadn't told anyone Eli was missing.
Not the police.
Not my coworkers.
Not even our aunt in Milwaukee.
That sounds terrible until you understand what had happened.
Six days earlier, Eli had sent me a video message in ASL.
He told me he was going away for a few days.
He said he had found a job.
A good one.
The kind that would finally let him pay his own rent.
He was twenty-two and fiercely independent. After losing most of his hearing at seven, he had spent years fighting people who treated him as though he couldn't make decisions for himself.
So when he said he needed space, I tried to respect it.
But then his messages stopped.
His phone went unanswered.
And the last person who claimed to have seen him was a stranger who said Eli had taken a job at a private manufacturing studio.
I had spent the previous two nights searching online, trying to locate the company.
Now Chicago's most feared crime boss was showing me my brother's photograph.
Where is he? I signed.
Salvatore's expression changed.
I don't know.
Then why do you have his picture?
He turned the phone toward me again.
The photograph had been taken outside a building called Halcyon Design Works.
I recognized the name.
It was the company Eli had mentioned.
Salvatore typed a message on his tablet.
Halcyon is one of my commercial properties. Your brother was contracted to repair specialized equipment there. Three days ago, the building's management reported him missing.
My heart pounded.
“Why wasn't I contacted?”
Salvatore signed his answer.
They told me he had no family.
I stared.
That's a lie.
I know that now.
He watched my face carefully.
Then signed, I was trying to find him.
I didn't know whether to believe him.
Men like Salvatore Marquetti didn't become powerful by telling strangers everything.
But he knew something about Eli.
And I couldn't walk away.
What happened at the building?
Salvatore hesitated.
Then turned the tablet toward me.
A fire destroyed part of the facility. The official report says an electrical malfunction. I don't believe it.
My stomach dropped.
Was Eli inside?
Salvatore looked at me.
His hands moved slowly.
That's what I'm trying to find out.
I sat down without asking permission.
For a moment, the restaurant disappeared.
I remembered Eli at twelve, sitting on our apartment floor with a broken radio, determined to understand why one speaker worked and the other didn't.
He had always loved taking things apart.
He said machines made sense.
People lied.
Machines usually didn't.
Salvatore waited while I struggled to breathe.
Then he signed, I can help you find him.
I looked up.
Why would you?
His expression hardened.
Because someone used my property to make a young man disappear.
He paused.
And because I know what it's like when people decide your silence means you don't matter.
For the first time, I noticed something unusual about his signing.
It wasn't hesitant.
It wasn't the slow, careful ASL of someone who had learned a few phrases.
He was fluent.
Natural.
He understood everything I signed, even when my hands moved too quickly.
Were you born deaf? I asked.
He nodded.
Profoundly deaf since birth.
I glanced at the men waiting near the door.
Do they sign?
His mouth tightened.
One does. A little.
I stared.
You're surrounded by people who can't talk to you?
Salvatore looked away.
Then signed:
I'm surrounded by people who talk about me.
Something about that answer hurt.
Before I could respond, his phone vibrated.
He read the message.
His face went cold.
He showed me the screen.
The Halcyon building has been cleared for demolition. Tomorrow morning.
I looked at him.
They're destroying evidence.
He nodded.
May you like
Then signed:
Not if we stop them.
