Chapter 5 - The Apartment With the Open Door
I ran.
I didn't think about the black-suited men behind me.
I didn't think about the wealthy diners staring as I rushed through the restaurant.
I thought about my mother.
Alone.
In a second-floor apartment in Queens.
Unable to move quickly when her legs were weak.
And someone was inside her home.
“Clara!”
Rico's voice followed me into the corridor.
I didn't stop.
He caught up near the back entrance.
“Where are you going?”
“My mother needs help.”
“Then let Dante handle it.”
“No.”
I pushed through the door into the cold Brooklyn night.
A black SUV waited at the curb.
Another rolled up behind it.
Dante was already giving orders over his radio.
“Two teams. Queens. Now.”
I turned on Rico.
“You knew?”
“I heard enough of the call.”
“Then stop standing there!”
He looked at me.
Then at the restaurant doorway.
Leo was being carried out by a female staff member.
His face was red from crying.
“Clara!”
The tiny voice stopped me.
Rico closed his eyes.
For one second, I saw the impossible choice written across his face.
Protect his child.
Or help the woman his child trusted.
I stepped toward Leo.
“Sweetheart, I have to help my mommy.”
His lip trembled.
“Mommy?”
I nodded.
“My mommy.”
He reached for me.
I kissed the top of his head.
“I'll come back if I can.”
Rico looked sharply at me.
“If?”
I stared at him.
“Nothing about tonight feels safe.”
He took Leo from the staff member.
Then he turned to Dante.
“Put two more men on the house. Nobody gets near my son without my permission.”
Dante nodded.
Rico looked at me.
“I'm coming with you.”
The drive to Queens felt endless.
I called my mother seventeen times.
No answer.
Rico sat beside me, silent.
He didn't offer false reassurance.
I appreciated that more than I expected.
When we reached my building, two police cars were already outside.
My heart jumped.
An officer stopped us at the entrance.
“Ma'am, you can't go up.”
“Rose Vance,” I said. “Apartment 2B. She's my mother.”
The officer's expression changed.
Rico stepped forward.
“Is she alive?”
The officer hesitated.
I nearly collapsed.
“Please.”
“She was taken to the hospital. She's conscious.”
I covered my mouth.
My knees weakened.
Rico caught my elbow.
Only for a second.
Then he released me.
“Which hospital?” I asked.
The officer told us.
Dante spoke quietly to Rico.
“Boss, the apartment was searched.”
Rico nodded.
“Anything missing?”
“We don't know yet.”
I looked up.
“What do you mean searched?”
The officer led us upstairs.
The door to my mother's apartment hung crookedly from its frame.
Inside, the living room had been torn apart.
Books scattered.
Couch cushions ripped.
Drawers pulled out.
My mother's favorite ceramic vase lay broken beneath the window.
I stepped over the fragments.
“Mom?”
The apartment still smelled like the cinnamon tea she drank every evening.
That almost broke me.
Rico stood in the doorway.
“Clara.”
I ignored him.
I walked into my mother's bedroom.
The little blue jewelry box on her dresser was gone.
I stopped.
Blue box.
Frank Bell's words came rushing back.
Ask your mother about the blue box.
I turned slowly.
“Rico.”
He came closer.
“What?”
“There was a box here.”
“What kind?”
“Blue. Wooden. Small.”
His expression changed.
Before he could answer, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
My mother sitting in a hospital bed.
Pale.
Frightened.
The message underneath said:
Tell Rico to stop looking into Elena's death.
A second message followed.
Or next time, your mother won't make it to the hospital.
I handed Rico the phone.
He read the messages.
His jaw tightened.
Then he looked toward Dante.
“Find out who sent these.”
Dante nodded.
I shook my head.
“No.”
Rico turned.
“Clara—”
“No more threats. No more men running around making everything worse.”
My voice broke.
“I just want my mother safe.”
Rico looked at me for a long moment.
Then he said something I never expected.
“So do I.”
I wanted to believe him.
I really did.
But then my phone rang again.
This time, it wasn't an unknown number.
It was my mother.
I answered.
“Mom?”
Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Clara, I need you to listen.”
“I am.”
“Don't trust the police report about Elena.”
I glanced at Rico.
“Why?”
My mother began crying.
“Because Elena wasn't killed in a drive-by.”
May you like
She struggled to breathe.
“And I know that because I saw her alive afterward.”
