Chapter 3 - THE NAME ELENA NEVER SPOKE
The DNA clinic closed at six.
At 5:41, Dominic was sitting in a plastic chair beneath a framed poster about blood pressure while Mia swung her feet beside him.
Nico stood outside the examination room.
Sister Teresa sat across from them filling out forms.
Dominic had already called three laboratories.
The fastest legitimate result would take forty-eight hours.
He hated forty-eight hours.
Mia did not seem concerned.
She held a juice box and studied Dominic's hand.
"You have a scar."
Dominic glanced at the white line across his knuckle.
"Yes."
"How?"
"I was stupid."
Sister Teresa looked up.
"Refreshingly honest again."
Mia considered this.
"Did somebody bite you?"
Dominic looked at her.
"No."
"I bit Tommy once."
"Why?"
"He put glue in my shoe."
Dominic nodded.
"Reasonable."
Sister Teresa lowered her pen.
"Do not encourage her."
"I'm evaluating the evidence."
Mia smiled.
It was barely there.
But Dominic saw it.
And for one irrational second, the sight made him happier than closing a fifty-million-dollar construction deal.
The nurse returned.
"Mr. Moretti?"
Dominic stood first.
As promised.
Mia watched carefully while the needle entered his arm.
He did not move.
Afterward, the nurse prepared Mia.
She went pale.
Dominic crouched in front of her.
"You don't have to look."
"I know."
"You can squeeze my hand."
"I don't squeeze hands."
The needle touched her skin.
Mia grabbed two of Dominic's fingers hard enough to turn his knuckles white.
He said nothing.
When it was done, she released him immediately.
"I wasn't scared."
"Obviously."
Sister Teresa rolled her eyes.
By 6:12 they were back inside Dominic's sedan.
He had offered to drive Sister Teresa and Mia home.
Sister Teresa had resisted.
Mia had said, "I've never ridden in a car with a refrigerator."
There was no refrigerator.
It was a chilled center console.
Dominic decided not to explain.
The ride back to Queens took forty minutes.
Mia spent most of it staring out the window.
Then she asked, "Did you know my mother?"
Dominic looked at her.
"I knew a woman named Elena."
"Was she nice?"
The question was simple.
The answer was not.
"Yes."
"Did you love her?"
Nico's eyes shifted toward the rearview mirror.
Dominic ignored him.
"Yes."
Mia looked down at the photograph.
"Then why did she leave?"
Dominic's jaw tightened.
"I don't know."
"Maybe she didn't want to."
Dominic stared at her.
Mia shrugged.
"People think kids leave because they don't like somewhere. Sometimes people make them."
Sister Teresa's eyes moved sharply toward Dominic.
The sedan slowed outside St. Cecilia.
Two squad cars were parked near the entrance.
Nico was out before the car fully stopped.
Dominic's entire body changed.
"What happened?"
Sister Teresa opened her door.
One of the younger nuns came running down the steps.
"Sister Teresa."
Her face was white.
"What is it?"
"Someone broke into the office."
Dominic looked at Mia.
"Stay in the car."
Mia clutched her photograph.
"I don't want to."
"Mia."
"I don't want to be alone."
Dominic's tone softened instantly.
"You won't be."
He nodded at Nico.
Nico opened the rear door and stood beside it.
Dominic entered the building with Sister Teresa.
The administrative office had been turned upside down.
Drawers open.
Paper everywhere.
A filing cabinet forced.
Desk lamp shattered.
Police officers moved through the small room.
"Was anything taken?" Dominic asked.
The detective looked at him.
"And you are?"
"Dominic Moretti."
Recognition arrived immediately.
The detective's expression tightened.
"Mr. Moretti."
Sister Teresa stepped between them before territorial instincts could develop.
"Was anything taken?"
The younger nun swallowed.
"Only one file."
Sister Teresa went still.
"Which one?"
"Mia's."
Dominic felt the room narrow.
"What exactly was in it?"
"Intake documents. Medical notes. The original statement from the woman who left her here."
"Copies?"
Sister Teresa shook her head slowly.
"The earliest intake paper was original."
Dominic turned toward Nico.
"Nico."
"I'm on it."
"Find every camera on this block."
The detective stepped forward.
"Mr. Moretti, this is an active police investigation."
Dominic looked at him.
"Then investigate faster."
"Dominic."
Sister Teresa's voice cut through the room.
He stopped.
Again.
She pointed toward the hallway.
"Mia."
The child stood there.
No one had heard her enter.
Nico was two steps behind her, annoyed with himself.
Mia looked at the open cabinet.
"My file?"
Sister Teresa crossed the room.
"Sweetheart—"
"They took mine?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
No one answered.
Mia looked at Dominic.
For some reason, that was worse.
He walked toward her and lowered himself until they were eye level.
"I don't know yet."
"Is it because of the picture?"
"Maybe."
Her fingers tightened around it.
"Do they want this?"
Dominic looked at the photograph.
"No one is taking that from you."
Mia's eyes searched his face.
Then she whispered, "Anna told me somebody would."
Dominic froze.
"Who?"
"The lady who brought me."
"What exactly did she say?"
Mia looked uncertain.
"I don't remember all of it."
"Try."
Sister Teresa put a hand on his shoulder.
"Don't push."
Dominic forced himself to wait.
Mia closed her eyes.
"She was crying."
Her voice became smaller.
"She said, 'Don't let anyone take the photograph. Not even if they say your daddy is dead. Your daddy isn't dead.'"
Dominic could hear his own heart.
"What else?"
"She said if a man named Marco ever came..."
The room stopped.
Dominic did not move.
Neither did Nico.
Sister Teresa whispered, "Marco?"
Mia opened her eyes.
"She said don't go with him."
Dominic felt something inside him turn to ice.
"What did she say his last name was?"
"I don't know."
"Think."
"I don't know."
She looked frightened now.
Dominic immediately stopped.
"It's okay."
Mia stared at him.
"Do you know Marco?"
Dominic rose very slowly.
"Yes."
Across town, Marco Bellini stood in a private back room above a restaurant in Astoria.
Two men waited in front of him.
One was the photographer from the gray sedan.
The other had blood on his cuff from cutting himself while forcing St. Cecilia's cabinet.
Marco placed Mia's stolen intake file on the table.
"You left too much noise."
"The nun came back early."
"Did you get the original?"
"Yes."
Marco opened it.
A single handwritten page sat inside.
He read Anna Rossi's statement.
Female child.
Approximately three years old.
Name given as Mia.
Mother believed to be deceased.
Father: Dominic Moretti.
Marco closed his eyes.
Six years.
He had believed the page destroyed.
"Boss?"
Marco opened a small metal lighter.
The paper caught at one corner.
The man across from him watched.
"What about the girl?"
Marco's face hardened.
"She cannot stay at St. Cecilia."
"You want us to take her?"
"I want Dominic to believe she ran."
The second man hesitated.
"An eight-year-old?"
Marco looked up.
Twenty years of smiling beside Dominic had taught him patience.
It had not taught him mercy.
"You think I'm asking you to hurt a child?"
"No."
"Good."
Marco fed another page to the flame.
"Because we're not hurting her."
The man's shoulders relaxed.
Marco watched the paper curl black.
"We're moving her somewhere Dominic will never find her."
He closed the lighter.
"And if Moretti fights?"
Marco smiled.
"He will."
May you like
Then his expression changed.
"And that is exactly what the Rosses are waiting for."
