Chapter 12 - THE CITY WATCHES

By morning, Victor Harlan’s name was everywhere.

News anchors said “alleged trafficking network” with careful mouths.

Mothers said it differently.

They said monster.

Channel 9 played the footage of Red Hook until the whole city memorized the sight of Lily Shaw being carried into an ambulance, clutching a blanket and crying for her mother.

Then they played footage from outside Elmhurst Hospital.

A little girl named Elena Vasquez, alive after being declared dead.

The city went mad.

Reporters camped outside the hospital.

Police chiefs gave statements.

Politicians who had taken Harlan’s money suddenly found reasons to condemn him.

Men who had smiled beside him at charity dinners deleted photographs too late.

Mara called it public pressure.

I called it fear.

Fear is honest.

Marco was still missing.

So was Dr. Bell.

So were two hospital administrators, one funeral employee, and a judge whose signature had appeared three times in Harlan’s files.

By noon, my mother called.

“You dragged Luca into this,” she said.

“Luca dragged himself.”

“He is your brother.”

“He helped Marco move people.”

“He said he didn’t know.”

I looked at Luca asleep in my safehouse with a split lip and a guilty soul.

“Not knowing is expensive.”

My mother went quiet. Then she said, “And you? What have you not known, Dante?”

That hit harder than I wanted.

After we hung up, I went to Elena’s room.

Rosa sat beside her daughter, holding her hand.

Tomas stood when he saw me.

For a second, I thought he might attack.

Instead, he said, “Lily’s mother called.”

I nodded.

“She said Elena saved her daughter.”

“She did.”

His eyes filled. “My little girl saved someone while grown men tried to bury her.”

I had no answer.

Bruno limped into the room beside me.

Elena’s eyes opened.

Weak.

But open.

She looked at Bruno.

Her fingers lifted.

Bruno placed his head under her hand.

For the first time since the funeral home, Elena smiled.

Then she looked at me.

And whispered, “Marco cried.”

I stepped closer.

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“What?”

“When he chased me,” she breathed. “He cried. He said, ‘I’m sorry, Elena. He has my son.’”