Chapter 6 - DOMINIC ADMITTED HE HAD INVESTIGATED MICHAEL’S DEATH YEARS AGO, AND I ALMOST WALKED AWAY FROM HIM FOR IT
Fear changes over time.
The first threat frightened me.
The second made me angry.
By the third day of security escorts, changed work schedules, and Lily asking why “Mr. Dominic’s friends” kept following us to school, anger became exhaustion.
I wanted my apartment.
My ER.
My grocery store.
My daughter arguing about socks.
I wanted Michael’s death to be a terrible accident again.
At least accidents do not watch your building.
Dominic gave me a temporary apartment in one of his residential buildings.
Not his townhouse.
My request.
Two bedrooms.
Secure lobby.
Close to the hospital.
Lily liked that the bathtub had jets.
I liked that nobody entered without identification.
Neither felt normal.
One evening, after Lily fell asleep, Dominic came by with Katherine.
They had new information.
Then Katherine left.
Dominic stayed.
I stood by the window.
“You knew Michael’s death might be suspicious.”
He went still.
“What?”
“Eduardo said Daniel was at the crash.”
“You told me you had someone look into it years ago.”
“Yes.”
“How far?”
His silence answered before he spoke.
“Elena.”
“How far?”
“I obtained traffic reports.”
“Calder records.”
“Michael’s position.”
“Why?”
“Because of the voicemail.”
“And?”
“I found his name on a list connected to two other dead auditors.”
My anger rose.
“You knew his name?”
“Not at first.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
I turned.
“What?”
His face remained calm.
Too calm.
“You told me at Beluchi’s you knew his name from a list.”
“Yes.”
“You left out that you eventually connected that name to the voicemail.”
“I suspected.”
“You knew a man named Michael Bennett died minutes after leaving you a terrified message.”
“Three years ago, yes.”
“And you never contacted me.”
“No.”
The room went very still.
“Why?”
Dominic looked toward Lily’s closed bedroom door.
“Because by then Anthony Salerno’s people were watching anyone connected to the North Harbor accounts.”
“I thought approaching Michael’s widow could put you at risk.”
I laughed.
It sounded ugly.
“So you protected me by keeping me ignorant.”
His jaw tightened.
“I believed so.”
“My husband did that too.”
“I know.”
“And he died.”
Dominic looked down.
“You’re angry.”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
That surprised me.
“What?”
“You should be.”
He looked at me again.
“I made the same decision men around you keep making.”
“That knowledge is something we can hold for you.”
I folded my arms.
“Why keep the voicemail?”
“Because something about it bothered me.”
“For four years?”
“Yes.”
“You could have given it to police.”
“I did not trust the investigators handling Salerno-related matters.”
“So you trusted yourself.”
“Yes.”
There.
Power.
Always.
The dangerous belief that one powerful man’s judgment was safer than a system.
Sometimes he might even be right.
That was what made it dangerous.
“Did you continue investigating Michael?”
“Yes.”
“What did you find?”
“That the other two auditors had both reviewed Calder transfers connected to North Harbor.”
“Then?”
“Salerno’s accountant disappeared.”
“Victor Raines moved three accounts offshore.”
“Daniel Cross received a promotion.”
I stared.
“And you stopped?”
“No.”
“Then why didn’t you know about the ledger?”
“Because Michael was better than whoever searched his apartment.”
That almost sounded respectful.
I did not want to be softened.
“Did you know Eduardo existed?”
“No.”
“Did you know Daniel was at the crash?”
“No.”
“Would you have contacted me if you did?”
Dominic hesitated.
That was answer enough.
I laughed bitterly.
“You still don’t know.”
“I’m trying not to lie.”
Good.
I sat.
For several minutes, neither spoke.
Then Dominic said:
“I owe Michael something.”
“No.”
He looked.
“You owe truth.”
“Not debt.”
“Do not turn my husband into a reason to own responsibility for us.”
His face changed.
“I don’t.”
“You keep saying you’ll protect Lily.”
“I will.”
“She is not yours.”
“I know.”
The answer came immediately.
No offense.
No claim.
Good.
“Then say it differently.”
He thought.
“I will help keep Lily safe if you want my help.”
There.
Better.
“Thank you.”
Dominic nodded.
We sat in silence.
Then I asked:
“Who was Anthony Salerno to you?”
His expression hardened.
“An enemy.”
“Criminal?”
“Yes.”
“You?”
He almost smiled without humor.
“You know what people say.”
“I want to know what you say.”
Dominic leaned back.
“My father built parts of Moretti Maritime with money that did not always come from clean contracts.”
“I inherited obligations with the company.”
“Men.”
“Unions.”
“Protection arrangements.”
“Political favors.”
“Some illegal.”
“Some violent.”
My heart beat harder.
“Did you kill people?”
His eyes held mine.
“I have been responsible for decisions that led to men dying.”
No romantic lie.
No claim of innocence.
I appreciated that and hated what it meant.
“Recently?”
“No.”
“When?”
“My twenties.”
“Early thirties.”
“What changed?”
“My younger brother.”
I had never heard about a brother.
“He was killed?”
“Yes.”
“Because of you?”
Dominic looked away.
“Because someone wanted leverage.”
There.
Pain.
Same pattern.
“My mother begged me to end it.”
“I couldn’t end everything.”
“But I changed the company.”
“Pushed illegal operations out.”
“Stopped using violence as business policy.”
“Salerno hated that because chaos made him money.”
“And Michael?”
“Michael apparently discovered Salerno was using my legitimate routes to hide his own transactions.”
“So he called you because he thought you might care.”
“Yes.”
“Did you?”
Dominic looked directly at me.
“Not enough.”
That honesty disarmed me.
I looked away.
Then:
“Did you kill Salerno?”
“No.”
“What happened?”
“His own lieutenant shot him two years ago after a federal indictment.”
“Did you benefit?”
“Yes.”
“Did you help?”
“I gave prosecutors financial documents showing how his companies were using mine.”
That surprised me.
“You cooperated?”
“Quietly.”
“Why quietly?”
“Because men who make careers from reputation do not enjoy advertising every change.”
Fair.
Then Dominic said:
“I am not asking you to trust me because I’ve been good.”
“I’m asking you to judge what I do now.”
That was the first thing he had said that sounded like a promise I could consider.
My phone buzzed.
Katherine.
She had found something in Michael’s original crash file.
A hospital transport record.
Michael had not been pronounced dead at the scene.
Eduardo was right.
He was transported alive to St. Vincent’s trauma unit.
Time of arrival:
11:29 p.m.
Official time of death:
11:52 p.m.
Twenty-three minutes.
I stared at the screen.
Michael lived twenty-three minutes after reaching the hospital.
Long enough to speak.
Long enough to identify someone.
Maybe.
“Who was with him?”
Dominic asked.
Katherine sent the visitor/security log.
Emergency access.
Detective.
Trauma surgeon.
One Calder representative authorized under corporate emergency contact.
Daniel Cross.
My stomach dropped.
He was inside Michael’s hospital room before Michael died.
Then another file arrived.
Nurse note.
Patient agitated.
Repeated phrase:
“Daniel caused it.”
My hands began shaking.
That line had never appeared in the police report I received.
A later typed version said:
“Patient confused, unintelligible speech.”
Someone had changed the meaning.
I stared at Dominic.
“This wasn’t just an accident they exploited.”
“No.”
May you like
He said quietly.
“They made sure the only man naming Daniel was treated like he never said anything.”
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