Chapter 6 - THE WOMAN IN THE BLUE COAT
Nora stopped sleeping.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the message on Vescari's phone.
The girl must not find Agata.
Not the girl's mother.
Not the missing woman.
Agata.
Present tense.
As though she were alive.
Three days later, Nora received an envelope at La Cattedrale.
No return address.
Inside was a photograph.
A woman stood outside a small grocery store wearing a blue coat.
Dark hair streaked with gray.
A familiar face.
Nora stared.
Agata.
Older.
Alive.
On the back was a handwritten sentence.
She works every Thursday.
Below it was an address in Milwaukee.
Nora didn't tell Dante immediately.
She wanted one thing that belonged entirely to her.
A choice.
She bought a train ticket.
Packed a small bag.
And left Chicago before dawn.
Milwaukee was gray and windy.
The grocery store stood on a quiet street between a pharmacy and a laundromat.
Nora waited across the road.
At 10:17, a woman in a blue coat stepped outside carrying a box of produce.
Nora's breath caught.
It was her.
The woman from the photograph.
Nora crossed the street.
“Excuse me.”
The woman turned.
Her eyes met Nora's.
The box slipped from her hands.
Oranges rolled across the sidewalk.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Then the woman whispered:
“Nora?”
Nora began crying.
“You know me?”
The woman's hands trembled.
“My baby.”
Agata Gallo had spent twenty-six years believing her daughter was dead.
She had been told the infant died shortly after birth.
She had been shown a death certificate.
Then, after attempting to challenge the hospital's account, she was placed under a false identity and threatened.
The people responsible told her that returning to Chicago would endanger everyone she loved.
Eventually, she stopped trying.
Not because she stopped loving her daughter.
Because she believed there was no daughter left to find.
They sat in the grocery store's back office.
Agata held Nora's hands.
She cried.
Nora cried.
Neither knew how to fit twenty-six missing years into one conversation.
Finally, Nora asked:
“Who told you I died?”
Agata's expression changed.
“Leonard Vescari.”
Nora felt cold.
“And who told him to do it?”
Agata looked down.
Then whispered:
“My father.”
Nora pulled away.
“No.”
Agata began crying.
“I heard them arguing. Vescari said my father wanted the problem handled.”
Nora shook her head.
“Salvatore thinks you're dead.”
Agata stared.
“What?”
“He's been looking for you.”
Agata's face changed.
Then she whispered:
“Then someone lied to both of us.”
Outside, a black sedan stopped across the street.
Two men stepped out.
Agata saw them through the window.
Her expression turned white.
“Nora.”
Nora followed her gaze.
May you like
Agata gripped her hand.
“We have to leave.”
