Chapter 7 - THE NIGHT CARLO WENT AFTER HER MOTHER
Elaine Brooks lived in a pale blue house with white shutters and a ceramic goose near the front steps.
Damian stared at the goose from the back seat of an armored SUV.
“Your mother has a goose.”
Hazel did not look at him.
“She dresses it for holidays.”
“That seems threatening.”
“Damian.”
“Sorry.”
She was terrified.
He could tell because she had become quieter than usual.
Grant rode in front, speaking into his radio.
Local police had been notified discreetly because Carlo was now wanted for questioning in connection with federal firearms evidence and the church shooting.
Hazel hated involving Elaine before proof was secure.
Carlo had removed that choice.
Two surveillance photographs showed his car at a motel outside Kenosha.
Another camera recorded Vincent Rago’s brother near Elaine’s street.
Whether Carlo intended harm or leverage did not matter.
Hazel’s mother needed protection.
Damian had expected Elaine Brooks to resemble Hazel.
She did not.
Elaine was sixty-four, five feet two, silver-blonde hair, floral sweater, and apparently incapable of being intimidated by armored vehicles.
She opened the door before Grant’s team finished securing the property.
“Hazel Marie Brooks.”
Hazel stopped.
Damian heard the middle name.
He wisely stored it for later.
Elaine looked at Damian.
Then Grant.
Then six security men.
“Would somebody like to tell me why my daughter brought organized crime to my hydrangeas?”
Damian liked her immediately.
Hazel hugged her.
Hard.
Elaine’s expression changed.
“Hazey?”
Damian absolutely did not smile.
Hazel whispered, “Mom, we need to leave for a few days.”
“Why?”
“Because Dad’s accident wasn’t an accident.”
Elaine froze.
Everything playful vanished.
Damian looked away.
That truth belonged to them.
Hazel continued.
“We found records.”
Elaine sat slowly.
For eight years, she had lived with a highway crash.
Now murder entered the room.
“Who?”
Hazel’s eyes shifted toward Damian.
Elaine followed.
Damian said, “My uncle.”
Elaine stared.
“Russo.”
“Yes.”
“Your father?”
“No.”
She looked at Hazel.
“You’re sure?”
Hazel nodded.
“Antonio was working with Dad.”
Elaine covered her mouth.
Then something unexpected happened.
She whispered, “I knew.”
Hazel stopped breathing.
“What?”
Elaine stood and walked toward a cabinet.
She removed a small metal box.
“Your father told me he had a source.”
“Antonio?”
“He never gave me the name.”
Elaine opened the box.
Inside were old photographs, Thomas’s badge, and an envelope.
“After Thomas died, this came.”
Hazel stared.
“From who?”
“No return address.”
Elaine handed it over.
Inside was a cashier’s check.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
Never deposited.
And a note.
THOMAS BROOKS DIED TRYING TO CORRECT A FAILURE THAT BELONGED TO MY FAMILY. I CANNOT ASK FOR FORGIVENESS. KEEP THIS IF YOU NEED IT. DESTROY IT IF YOU DON’T.
A.
Antonio.
Damian’s throat tightened.
“My father.”
Elaine nodded.
“I thought so eventually.”
“Why didn’t you cash it?”
“Because I wanted my husband.”
Simple.
Money had no answer.
Hazel stared at her mother.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you were already angry enough to burn down Chicago.”
Hazel almost laughed through tears.
“I joined the Army.”
“Exactly.”
Damian looked toward Grant.
Grant pretended not to listen.
Elaine continued.
“Then Antonio died before Thomas.”
“Two days.”
“I know.”
Hazel frowned.
“The letter had to be sent before Dad died.”
Elaine nodded.
“Postmark October eighteenth.”
One day after Antonio’s death.
One day before Thomas died.
“Who mailed it?” Damian asked.
Elaine looked at him.
“A woman.”
“What woman?”
“I don’t know. She came here. Handed me the envelope.”
Description.
Late fifties at the time.
Dark hair.
Italian accent.
Damian knew before Elaine finished.
“Aunt Lucia.”
His father’s older sister.
Still alive.
Living in Naples most of the year.
Hazel stared.
“Your aunt knew?”
“Apparently.”
Damian called her.
No answer.
Then another phone rang.
Elaine’s landline.
Everyone froze.
Hazel moved first.
She put the call on speaker.
“Hello?”
Carlo.
“Elaine.”
Her face drained.
Hazel reached for the phone.
Damian stopped her with one hand.
Not force.
A question.
She nodded.
Elaine answered.
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry for involving you.”
Hazel’s eyes became cold.
Carlo continued.
“I need to speak with Hazel.”
Elaine looked at her daughter.
Hazel took the phone.
“I’m here.”
“Hazel Brooks.”
“You knew.”
“I knew Thomas had a daughter.”
“Did you know I worked for Damian?”
“Not until last year.”
Hazel looked at Damian.
A year.
Carlo had watched her.
“Why didn’t you remove me?”
Carlo laughed softly.
“Because you were useful.”
Hazel’s jaw tightened.
“How?”
“You kept Damian alive.”
The room chilled.
Carlo had known about at least some threats.
Maybe he had not ordered every one?
Hazel said, “You ordered the car.”
“Yes.”
“Renner?”
“Yes.”
“Then why call me useful?”
“Because other people wanted Damian dead too.”
Damian’s face hardened.
Carlo continued.
“You think our world contains one conspiracy?”
Of course.
Power attracted layers.
“Where are you?” Hazel asked.
“Close.”
Grant’s team was already triangulating.
Carlo said, “Your father made the mistake of believing Antonio could control what he built.”
“You killed him.”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
Hazel closed her eyes.
The confession landed differently from records.
A voice.
A man.
“Yes.”
Elaine started crying.
Hazel’s face went blank.
Damian wanted to take the phone.
He didn’t.
This belonged to her.
“Why?” Hazel asked.
“Thomas had evidence.”
“So you killed him.”
“He was going to destroy everything.”
“He was going to arrest you.”
“Same thing.”
Hazel’s right hand trembled.
Damian watched.
Carlo continued.
“Antonio became weak.”
“My father?” Damian said.
Carlo heard him.
“Ah.”
His voice changed.
“Nephew.”
Damian stepped closer.
“You poisoned him.”
“I corrected succession.”
Hazel looked at Damian.
He did not move.
“Why?” Damian asked.
“Antonio planned to turn family records over to police.”
“So you killed your brother.”
“He chose outsiders.”
“No.”
Damian’s voice remained calm.
“He chose consequences.”
Carlo laughed.
“You sound like your secretary.”
“Consultant,” Grant muttered.
Not the time.
Carlo continued.
“Damian, you think she saved you because she cares?”
Hazel’s face hardened.
“Carlo.”
“She entered your office to investigate you.”
“I know.”
“She copied schedules.”
“I know.”
“She accessed family archives.”
“I know.”
Hazel looked at Damian.
He continued.
“She told me.”
Carlo was silent.
The manipulation failed.
Good.
Carlo tried another.
“Ask her about Prague.”
Damian looked at Hazel.
Her face changed.
There.
Carlo laughed softly.
“She didn’t tell you everything.”
The line disconnected.
Grant turned.
“Trace?”
His technician shook his head.
“Burner routed through relay.”
Hazel stared at nothing.
Damian said, “Prague.”
“Later.”
“Immediate safety?”
“No.”
“Then later.”
Her eyes lifted.
He had learned.
A black SUV appeared at the end of the street.
Security moved.
Hazel reached for her weapon.
The vehicle stopped.
Door opened.
A woman stepped out.
Seventy-one.
Elegant.
Dark coat.
Lucia Russo.
Damian’s aunt.
She raised both hands.
“I’m unarmed.”
Damian stared.
“You mailed Antonio’s letter.”
Lucia looked at Elaine.
“Yes.”
Hazel’s mother began crying again.
Lucia entered the house.
No one relaxed.
She sat.
“I have spent eight years waiting for Carlo to make a mistake large enough that Damian would believe me.”
Damian’s jaw tightened.
“You could have told me.”
“No.”
Lucia looked at him.
“You worshiped him after Antonio died.”
Damian flinched.
Not worshiped.
Trusted.
Perhaps worse.
“He made himself your teacher before the funeral flowers died.”
That was true.
“What do you have?” Hazel asked.
Lucia removed a flash drive.
“Antonio gave this to me the week before he died.”
Damian stared.
“What is it?”
“A recording.”
Again.
His family apparently documented everything except affection.
Lucia looked at Hazel.
“Your father is on it.”
They played it.
Antonio.
Thomas.
Lucia.
Discussing Carlo.
Evidence.
A plan.
Then Thomas said:
“If this goes wrong, Hazel stays out.”
Antonio:
“Your daughter knows?”
Thomas:
“She knows I’m investigating a dangerous transport group. Not names.”
Lucia:
“Can she protect herself?”
Thomas laughed.
“She could disarm all three of us before breakfast.”
Hazel’s face broke.
A sound escaped her.
Half laugh.
Half sob.
Her father’s voice after eight years.
Thomas continued:
“She’s better than this life. I don’t want her inheriting my enemies.”
Damian looked at Hazel.
Her eyes were full.
The recording ended.
Silence.
Elaine touched her daughter’s face.
“He wanted you out.”
Hazel whispered, “I know.”
“But you came back.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Hazel looked toward Damian.
Then the evidence.
“Because I thought truth would make it stop hurting.”
Elaine’s face softened.
“Did it?”
Hazel shook her head.
“No.”
Damian understood.
Revenge and truth could answer questions.
They could not resurrect anyone.
Grant’s phone buzzed.
“We have Carlo.”
Everyone turned.
“Where?”
“Not exact. But one of his burners connected to a tower near Milwaukee.”
Lucia’s face changed.
“He has a house there.”
“Address?”
She gave it.
Grant moved immediately.
Damian looked at Hazel.
“You stay.”
She laughed once.
“No.”
“Your mother—”
“Has police and six of your men.”
“She also has the ceramic goose.”
Elaine looked offended.
“His name is Franklin.”
Damian nodded respectfully.
“My apologies.”
Hazel almost smiled.
Then became serious.
“I’m going.”
Damian wanted to order her not to.
He stopped.
“What do you need?”
The question changed everything.
Hazel answered.
“A vest.”
Grant tossed one.
“Vehicle.”
“Ready.”
“Backup.”
“I’m coming,” Damian said.
She looked at him.
“Not because I own the operation.”
“Good.”
“Because Carlo killed my father too.”
Hazel nodded.
“Then come.”
They left together.
Not boss and secretary.
May you like
Not protector and protected.
Two children of dead men heading toward the person who had spent eight years believing their grief made them controllable.
