Chapter 7 - THE NIGHT FRANK DISAPPEARED
Dominic did not go alone.
This time, he did not pretend he might.
The note directed him to Pier Nineteen.
An abandoned customs warehouse at the far end of South Harbor.
Raymond knew the place well.
Dominic’s father once used it for legitimate freight.
Later Raymond converted it into storage for seized gambling machines.
Symbolism.
Again.
People who believed themselves clever loved dramatic locations.
Morales organized surveillance.
Federal agents came.
Dominic wore a wire.
He hated it.
Frank would have laughed.
If Frank was alive.
At 11:20 p.m., Dominic entered the warehouse alone physically.
Police stayed outside.
That was close enough to obey the note without being stupid.
Raymond stood beneath one hanging light.
Frank sat in a chair twenty feet away.
Hands tied.
Face bruised.
Alive.
Dominic’s shoulders lowered slightly.
Frank looked furious.
“Do not give him anything.”
Raymond smiled.
“Still loyal.”
Dominic looked at his uncle.
“What do you want?”
“A conversation.”
“You kidnapped Frank.”
“He is difficult to schedule.”
“Untie him.”
“No.”
Dominic’s hands remained at his sides.
“What letter?”
Raymond’s smile widened.
“Vincent DiMarco.”
Dominic felt anger rise.
“I know Frank intercepted it.”
Frank closed his eyes.
Raymond looked pleased.
“Good.”
“Why?”
“That is Frank’s story.”
Dominic looked at the older man.
Frank’s face was swollen.
“You tell me.”
Frank swallowed blood.
“Your mother asked me to.”
Dominic froze.
“What?”
Raymond laughed.
“Wonderful.”
Frank continued.
“Evelyn knew Vincent wanted to contact you.”
“She intercepted my mail?”
“No.”
“I did.”
“Why?”
“Because she thought you would confront Raymond before we had proof.”
Dominic stared.
“Again.”
Frank looked ashamed.
“Yes.”
“You all decided.”
“Yes.”
“My mother.”
“Yes.”
“You.”
“Yes.”
“And Vincent died.”
Frank’s face broke.
“Yes.”
Dominic looked away.
Raymond watched them.
“Do you see?”
“What?”
“They were worse than me.”
Dominic almost laughed.
“No.”
Raymond’s smile faded.
“They lied to you.”
“Yes.”
“They manipulated you.”
“Yes.”
“They let you kill.”
“Yes.”
“And you still blame me.”
Dominic looked directly at him.
“Yes.”
Raymond’s expression hardened.
“Why?”
“Because everyone else's cowardice does not erase your crimes.”
Silence.
Good.
Raymond was used to comparison as defense.
Dominic would not give it.
“Did you kill my father?”
Raymond smiled again.
“You already believe I did.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
“Why?”
“For me.”
A pause.
“And police?”
Raymond’s eyes sharpened.
Dominic knew immediately.
The wire.
Raymond approached.
Dominic did not move.
Raymond patted his jacket.
Found the transmitter.
Frank swore.
Raymond tore it away.
“You really have become embarrassing.”
He crushed it.
Outside, Morales still had backup audio from a secondary device embedded in Dominic’s watch.
Raymond did not know.
Good.
“Police,” Raymond said.
“Your mother would die again.”
Dominic’s jaw tightened.
“She told me to bring you into daylight.”
Raymond stopped.
“You heard the recording.”
“Yes.”
“Everything?”
“Enough.”
Raymond looked toward Frank.
“You kept that too?”
Frank said nothing.
Raymond laughed.
“I surrounded myself with sentimental fools.”
“No.”
Dominic stepped forward.
“You surrounded yourself with people who eventually got tired of you deciding who had to die.”
Raymond’s face went cold.
Then:
“Your father was going to give the port to accountants.”
“So you killed him.”
“He was going to destroy the family.”
“So you killed him.”
“He had already met DiMarco.”
“So you killed him.”
Raymond’s voice rose.
“Yes.”
There it was.
Frank closed his eyes.
Dominic felt nothing at first.
Then everything.
“My brother wanted to abandon forty years of power.”
Raymond continued.
“He wanted legal shipping.”
“No gambling.”
“No protection.”
“No leverage over unions.”
“He wanted to turn us into businessmen.”
Dominic almost smiled.
“Horrifying.”
Raymond ignored it.
“I tried to stop him.”
“He refused.”
“You planted the bomb.”
“I arranged it.”
“Then framed DiMarco.”
“They were rivals.”
“They did not kill him.”
“No.”
Dominic’s chest tightened.
“And Vincent?”
Raymond looked at Frank.
“Frank’s mistake.”
Dominic stepped closer.
“Did you kill Vincent?”
“Yes.”
Frank closed his eyes.
“Because he knew.”
“Yes.”
“My mother?”
Raymond’s face changed.
Small.
Regret?
Maybe.
“Evelyn would not stop.”
“Did you tell Cross to give potassium?”
“Yes.”
The word nearly caused Dominic to move.
He did not.
His mother’s voice:
Do not avenge me.
He kept his hands open.
Raymond looked disappointed.
“You're not angry?”
“I am.”
“You don't look it.”
Dominic smiled faintly.
“That is because you're not leaving.”
Raymond’s eyes shifted toward the exits.
He understood.
Police.
Even without wire.
He had confessed too much.
Then the side door opened.
Leo Carbone entered.
Gun in hand.
Frank swore.
Dominic had expected Raymond.
Not Leo.
Morales’s team had not seen him approach from the water side.
Leo pointed the weapon at Dominic.
“Boss.”
Dominic almost laughed.
“Apparently not.”
Raymond said:
“This does not need to end badly.”
Dominic stared.
“You murdered my parents.”
“Yes.”
“You used my name to move narcotics.”
“Yes.”
“You used my grief to start a war.”
Raymond shrugged.
“And I made you king.”
Dominic looked around the abandoned warehouse.
“No.”
He smiled without humor.
“You made me your camouflage.”
Raymond’s face hardened.
Then Frank moved.
Fast.
He kicked backward, knocking the chair into Leo.
The gun fired.
Dominic lunged.
Not at Raymond.
At Leo’s arm.
They hit the floor.
Another shot.
Pain exploded across Dominic’s shoulder.
He heard shouting outside.
Police entering.
Raymond ran.
Frank shouted:
“Dominic!”
Dominic rolled.
Leo’s gun skidded across concrete.
Dominic reached it first.
Raymond was ten yards away.
Back turned.
Running toward the river door.
Dominic raised the weapon.
One shot.
That was all.
He could end eight years.
His father.
Mother.
Vincent.
Nora.
Everything.
Raymond looked back.
Saw the gun.
Stopped.
Maybe he expected it.
Maybe he wanted Dominic to prove nothing had changed.
Dominic’s finger rested on the trigger.
Then he lowered the weapon.
Raymond's face changed.
“What are you doing?”
Dominic almost smiled.
“Ruining your ending.”
Police flooded the warehouse.
Raymond reached inside his jacket.
Agents tackled him.
Frank rolled onto his side.
Dominic dropped the gun.
Morales ran toward him.
“You’re shot.”
“Apparently.”
“Idiot.”
“Frequently.”
Paramedics entered.
As Dominic was lifted onto a stretcher, Raymond was dragged past in handcuffs.
For the first time in Dominic’s life, his uncle looked old.
Not powerful.
Not terrifying.
Just a sixty-three-year-old man who had mistaken manipulation for strength until no one remained willing to protect him from consequences.
Raymond stopped beside the stretcher.
“You think prison makes you clean?”
Dominic looked up.
“No.”
Raymond seemed surprised.
Dominic continued:
“I think it makes you accountable.”
Then:
“And I’m next.”
May you like
Raymond stared.
For once, he had no answer.
