Chapter 2 - THE BOY MY MOTHER BURIED ALIVE
We did not open the door.
The man outside knocked for another minute.
Then silence.
I peeked through the upstairs curtains.
A black sedan pulled away.
Mom immediately reached for her phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“No one.”
“That looks like a phone.”
“I’m turning it off.”
“Why?”
“Because if Salvatore knows Alessandro came to the diner, then everything we buried is moving again.”
I stared at her.
“Mom, please stop speaking like a crime novel and tell me what happened.”
She looked twenty years older.
Maybe fear did that.
Maybe secrets did.
“Sit down.”
I did.
She took a slow breath through her oxygen tube.
“In 2002, I still worked overnight at Saint Vincent’s three nights a week and ran the diner during the day.”
I knew that.
Dad had died when I was two.
Mom worked until exhaustion became her normal state.
“One night, just before closing, I heard something behind the dumpsters.”
“A cat?”
“A boy.”
Luca Romano.
Sixteen.
Shot once through the shoulder and once along the ribs.
Not dying.
Terrified.
“He had blood all over his shirt,” Mom said. “I knew who he was immediately.”
“What did you do?”
“Dragged him into the kitchen.”
Of course.
That was Mom.
A wounded mafia teenager behind the diner?
Bring him inside.
“He begged me not to call his family.”
“Why?”
“Because his family had tried to kill him.”
I felt cold.
“Salvatore?”
She nodded.
According to Luca, he had seen his uncle Salvatore meeting with men responsible for the attack that killed Vittorio Romano, Luca and Alessandro’s father.
Salvatore discovered Luca knew too much.
Days later, the family announced Luca had died in a car fire.
The body was supposedly too badly burned for a public funeral.
“But he was here,” I whispered.
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Salvatore needed everyone to believe the problem was gone.”
“Even Alessandro?”
“Especially Alessandro.”
At twenty-one, Alessandro had been grieving his father and younger brother while Salvatore stepped into the role of adviser.
Mentor.
Uncle.
The one stable man left.
“Why didn't Luca go to Alessandro?”
Mom looked down.
“He wanted to.”
“But?”
“He didn’t know whether Alessandro already knew.”
That hurt even though Alessandro wasn't in the room.
“Did he?”
“No.”
“You know that now?”
“I suspected then.”
Mom continued.
She called a man named Daniel Kerr.
An assistant federal prosecutor who sometimes ate at the diner after late court sessions.
Daniel arranged emergency protective custody.
Luca agreed to testify regarding Salvatore’s criminal network.
But before charges could be filed, key evidence disappeared and two witnesses withdrew.
The case collapsed.
Luca remained hidden.
“Witness protection?”
“Something like that.”
“You haven't seen him since?”
Mom hesitated.
That was answer enough.
“How many times?”
“Three.”
“When?”
“The last time was six years ago.”
I stood.
“You told Alessandro his brother was dead for eighteen years?”
“I told no one anything.”
“That's the same thing.”
“No.”
Mom’s voice sharpened.
“It isn't.”
She began coughing.
I immediately regretted pushing.
I brought water.
Waited.
When she could breathe again, she continued.
“Every time Luca contacted me, he asked whether Alessandro was still working with Salvatore.”
My stomach tightened.
“And he was.”
“Yes.”
“So Luca assumed Alessandro had chosen him.”
“Yes.”
“Did you ever tell Luca he might be wrong?”
“Every time.”
“Then why stay hidden?”
“Because somebody kept finding him.”
That stopped me.
“What?”
Six years earlier, Luca had resurfaced under another identity.
Within seventy-two hours, someone broke into his apartment.
Nothing stolen.
Just one object placed on his kitchen table.
A photograph of Alessandro.
Message received.
Stay away.
“So he disappeared again.”
“Yes.”
I looked toward the window.
“And now someone sent Alessandro a current photograph.”
Mom nodded.
“Which means Luca has either decided to come back…”
“Or someone found him.”
A knock sounded again.
I froze.
This time three softer taps.
Mom whispered:
“Don't.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
It’s Alessandro. Salvatore’s car just left your block. Open the door.
I showed Mom.
She stared.
Then slowly nodded.
I opened the door.
Alessandro stood alone.
No coat now.
Dark shirt.
No bodyguards.
He stepped inside and immediately looked toward my mother.
For the first time since meeting him, I saw the feared Alessandro Romano become something else.
A son.
A brother.
A man suddenly twenty-one again.
“Rosie.”
Mom’s eyes filled.
“Alessandro.”
He did not move closer.
Neither did she.
Then he looked at the oxygen machine.
His jaw tightened.
“You're sick.”
“Observant.”
Despite everything, I nearly laughed.
He looked at me.
“So that is hereditary.”
“Unfortunately.”
Alessandro returned his attention to Mom.
“My brother.”
Rosie closed her eyes.
“He survived.”
Alessandro did not react.
That was worse.
He simply stood there.
Then:
“How long?”
“Since the night everyone thought he died.”
His breathing changed.
“And you knew?”
“Yes.”
“All these years?”
“Yes.”
His fists closed.
I moved instinctively between them.
Alessandro noticed.
“You think I’d hurt her?”
“I saw your relationship with tableware.”
For one second, his mouth almost moved.
Then grief swallowed it.
“Why didn't he call me?”
Mom answered quietly.
“Because he didn't know if you were safe.”
Alessandro looked as if she had struck him.
“I’m his brother.”
“You were Salvatore’s shadow.”
“I was twenty-one!”
“I know.”
“My father had just been murdered.”
“I know.”
“My brother disappeared.”
“I know.”
“Then what exactly was I supposed to look like?”
Mom cried.
“I don’t know.”
Silence.
Alessandro turned away.
For several seconds, all I could hear was Mom’s oxygen machine.
Then he asked:
“Is Luca alive now?”
Mom hesitated.
“I believe so.”
“Believe?”
“He stopped contacting me five years ago.”
“Six,” I corrected.
She looked at me.
“Six years since you saw him.”
“Yes.”
Alessandro turned back.
“But someone took a current photograph.”
“Yes.”
He removed it.
Mom studied the image.
Then whispered:
“That’s not where he lives.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know that truck.”
We both stared.
“What truck?”
“It belonged to Daniel Kerr.”
The prosecutor.
“The man who helped Luca disappear?”
“Yes.”
“Where is Daniel?”
Mom looked at Alessandro.
“He died last month.”
My skin prickled.
Alessandro’s eyes sharpened.
“How?”
“Heart attack.”
Mom’s expression said she did not believe it.
Then she pointed at the truck in the photograph.
“That vehicle was sold years ago.”
Alessandro studied the image again.
Victor’s voice came from the doorway.
“Boss.”
I nearly jumped.
“Does everyone in your organization ignore doors?”
Victor held up both hands.
“Yours was open.”
Alessandro showed him the photo.
Mom asked:
“Can you enlarge the windshield?”
Victor used his phone.
Zoomed.
Reflections distorted the glass.
But something hung from the rearview mirror.
A small wooden cross.
Mom gasped.
“What?”
She reached for the phone.
“Daniel carved those.”
“Those?”
“He gave one to every person he moved through the safe network.”
Alessandro frowned.
“So Luca has Daniel’s truck?”
“No.”
Mom's face went pale.
“He has Daniel’s cross.”
I didn’t understand.
Alessandro did.
“That photograph is a message.”
Mom nodded.
“From Luca.”
Victor asked:
“What is he telling us?”
Mom stared at the picture.
“Daniel is dead.”
May you like
She looked at Alessandro.
“And Luca thinks the person who killed him is coming for us next.”
