Chapter 5 - MY BROTHER’S DEBT
Nicholas Santoro opened his apartment door wearing sweatpants and a Yankees shirt.
He looked annoyed.
Then saw Detective Ruiz behind me.
His expression changed.
“Gabe.”
“Let us in.”
He stepped aside.
No drama.
No security.
Nicholas was thirty-five.
Four years younger.
Teresa had been between us.
The sweet one.
The stubborn one.
The one who made two angry brothers remember birthdays.
After she died, Nicholas drifted.
Drank.
Gambled.
Then supposedly recovered.
I had believed him.
Maybe because I needed one sibling who was not another problem.
Ruiz sat at the kitchen table.
I remained standing.
Nicholas looked between us.
“What happened?”
“Carlo Vescari.”
His face changed.
Barely.
Enough.
“You know him.”
“No.”
“Try again.”
Nicholas looked away.
Ruiz said:
“We can do this here or downtown.”
He laughed.
“Is that supposed to scare me?”
“No.”
She was calm.
“It’s supposed to save time.”
Nicholas looked at me.
“What do you know?”
“Two-million-dollar debt.”
His face went pale.
“Michael told you.”
“Yes.”
“That snake.”
I almost laughed.
“Pick another insult.”
Nicholas sat.
“It was three years ago.”
“How?”
“Sports.”
“How much did you lose before Carlo?”
“Four million.”
I closed my eyes.
“And didn’t tell me.”
“You would’ve taken everything.”
“I would’ve paid it.”
“That’s the problem.”
I stared.
“What?”
“You always fix things.”
His voice rose.
“Dad died, you fixed the company.”
“Teresa died, you took over the family.”
“Frank became enemy, you decided it.”
“Everything becomes Gabriel’s solution.”
The words hurt because some were true.
Ruiz watched silently.
Nicholas continued.
“I didn’t want to come begging.”
“So you went to Carlo.”
“I didn’t know who he was at first.”
“Lie.”
“I knew the name.”
“Same thing.”
He looked down.
“He paid the debt.”
“In exchange?”
“Information.”
My jaw tightened.
“What information?”
“Shipping schedules.”
“Meetings.”
“Nothing violent.”
“Lucy’s school?”
He froze.
There.
“Did you give Carlo Lucy’s school?”
“No.”
“Did you tell him Frank’s funeral?”
“Everyone knew.”
“Did you tell him Lucy was bringing something?”
“No.”
I believed that part?
Not yet.
Ruiz said:
“When did you last speak to Vescari?”
Nicholas hesitated.
“Yesterday.”
My chest turned cold.
“After Frank died.”
“Yes.”
“What did he ask?”
“If Frank left anything.”
“And?”
“I said I didn’t know.”
“Then?”
“He asked whether Gabriel looked nervous.”
I almost laughed.
“Nervous?”
Nicholas looked ashamed.
“He’s obsessed with whether you suspect him.”
“What did you say?”
“That you hated Frank too much to look anywhere else.”
The sentence cut.
Because it had been true until a nine-year-old walked down an aisle.
“Anything else?”
“He asked if Michael still wore his medal.”
My hand closed around the St. Christopher medal in my pocket.
Carlo knew Frank had it.
Or suspected.
“Why?”
Nicholas shook his head.
“I don’t know.”
Ruiz asked:
“Did you tell Carlo where Lucy goes to school?”
“No.”
“Can we check your phone?”
Nicholas looked at me.
I did not help him.
Finally:
“Yes.”
He handed it over.
Messages.
Betting apps.
Carlo under contact name C.
Three years of intermittent communication.
Ugly.
But no school address.
Then Ruiz found something.
A photograph from this morning.
Frank’s funeral.
Sent by Nicholas.
My blood went cold.
The image showed Lucy at the coffin.
Rosary visible.
Caption:
Frank left something.
I stared.
Nicholas saw my face.
“Gabe.”
“You sent him Lucy.”
“I didn’t know—”
“You sent a photograph of a child.”
“I sent a photo of the rosary.”
“With her face.”
“I wasn’t thinking.”
That sentence.
Always.
“I wasn’t thinking.”
Men said it after decisions that ruined other people.
Nicholas stood.
“I did not know he would go near her school.”
“You knew what Carlo was.”
“Yes.”
“You knew he killed Teresa?”
Nicholas froze.
“No.”
I stared.
“No?”
His face collapsed.
“I thought Frank did.”
That mattered.
Michael had hidden Carlo even from him.
“Did you know Carlo killed Anthony?”
“No.”
“Did you know he paid you with money connected to Teresa’s death?”
“No.”
Nicholas sat hard.
“What?”
I put the bank slip on the table.
He stared.
Then:
“Oh, God.”
Not innocence.
But not full knowledge.
Ruiz said:
“Your brother has committed serious offenses.”
Nicholas laughed bitterly.
“Which one of us?”
Fair.
She continued.
“But if he cooperates now, it matters.”
Nicholas looked at me.
“What do you want?”
For twelve years, I had wanted revenge.
Now I wanted Lucy safe.
Teresa’s truth public enough that nobody could bury it again.
And my brother to stop becoming another man who called fear loyalty.
“The truth.”
Nicholas nodded slowly.
“Okay.”
“What does Carlo want tonight?”
“I don’t know.”
“Guess.”
“He wants out.”
“Why now?”
Nicholas thought.
“Frank dying.”
“Meaning?”
“Frank was the last person who could connect him directly.”
“Except Michael.”
“Yes.”
“Except you.”
Nicholas looked sick.
“Yes.”
“And Lucy has Frank’s evidence.”
“Yes.”
Ruiz’s phone buzzed.
She checked.
Then looked at me.
“The foundation account is moving.”
“Where?”
“Cayman intermediary.”
“He knows.”
“How?”
“Bank insider, maybe.”
Michael swore.
He had joined us twenty minutes earlier.
Ruiz continued.
“Carlo may move the Pier Six meeting.”
As if summoned, Nicholas’s phone rang.
C.
Carlo.
Ruiz held up one finger.
Speaker.
Nicholas answered.
“Hello?”
Carlo’s voice sounded older than I remembered.
Calm.
“Your brother there?”
Nicholas looked at me.
“Yes.”
Carlo laughed.
“Good.”
I took the phone.
“Carlo.”
“Gabriel.”
“Twelve years.”
“Yes.”
“You’re close enough to Brooklyn to visit schools.”
Silence.
Then:
“I wanted to see Frank’s granddaughter.”
“You go near her again, this ends differently.”
Ruiz’s eyes hardened at me.
Too threatening.
Carlo laughed.
“There’s the Gabriel I remember.”
I breathed.
Controlled.
“What do you want?”
“The page.”
“You want forty-eight million.”
“Money is cleaner than memory.”
“What do I get?”
“Michael.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
Carlo continued.
“Your loyal consigliere has been working both sides twelve years.”
“I know.”
“No.”
Carlo sounded amused.
“You know half.”
My jaw tightened.
“What half?”
“He didn’t just hide Teresa’s killer.”
Michael went pale.
“He helped choose the car.”
Silence.
I looked at Michael.
He shook his head.
“No.”
Carlo continued.
“Ask him who told Teresa to take the Lincoln that night instead of her own car.”
I stared.
Michael’s face emptied.
“No.”
“Michael?”
He closed his eyes.
“I told her.”
My hands tightened.
“Why?”
“Your father wanted Carlo to scare her.”
“And you gave him the car.”
“Yes.”
The room disappeared.
Michael’s voice broke.
“I thought he was slashing tires.”
Carlo laughed through the phone.
“He always was trusting.”
I wanted to cross the room.
Grab Michael.
Do exactly what Teresa warned.
Instead I stayed.
Barely.
Carlo said:
“Pier Six is canceled.”
“Then where?”
“St. Agnes.”
My chest stopped.
The children’s trust building.
The charity.
“Why?”
“Because that is where Frank’s granddaughter will be tomorrow morning.”
No.
Ruiz immediately signaled agents.
Carlo continued.
“You give me the page tonight.”
“Or?”
“Or I stop being polite about the child.”
The line died.
Nicholas whispered:
“Lucy isn’t going there.”
I looked at Ruiz.
“She is now.”
Everyone stared.
Rosa had changed Lucy’s location after the school incident.
To a safe apartment.
Only five people knew.
Me.
Rosa.
Ruiz.
Father Donnelly.
And—
Michael.
I turned slowly.
He looked horrified.
“No.”
“Did you tell Carlo?”
“No.”
“Then how does he know she won’t be at school but thinks St. Agnes?”
Michael’s face changed.
Realization.
“Because Frank planned it.”
“What?”
“St. Agnes was supposed to host Lucy’s scholarship interview tomorrow.”
Rosa never told me.
Carlo had older information.
He did not know where Lucy actually was.
Good.
For once, secrecy had bought us time.
Ruiz said:
“He expects the building to be empty tonight except staff.”
Nicholas frowned.
“Then it’s a trap.”
I looked at the bank slip.
No.
May you like
It was an opportunity.
“Let’s make sure he finds exactly what he expects.”
