Chapter 5
We called Detective Carter—the same detective who had handled our father's case all those years ago.
He was older now, grayer, but he still had that same sharp look in his eyes.
He met us at the restaurant.
"The old warehouse on Third," he said, writing it down in his notebook. "You're sure about this?"
"Jimmy Rizzo told us," Tony said. "He's Marco's right-hand man. He wouldn't lie about something like this."
Detective Carter nodded. "I know Jimmy. He's a coward. If you scared him enough, he'd tell you anything."
He closed his notebook.
"I'll put a team together. We'll raid the place at dawn. When they're all tired and hungover. Less chance of someone getting hurt."
He looked at us.
"And you boys stay out of it. This is police business now. You've done your part. Let us handle the rest."
We nodded.
But I knew none of us would be able to stay away.
That night, none of us slept.
We sat in the back office, drinking coffee, waiting for dawn.
Sarah came down around four in the morning.
"You should be asleep," I said.
She shook her head. "I couldn't. I keep thinking about... everything."
She sat down beside me.
"Are you going to be there?" she asked. "When the police go to the warehouse?"
I hesitated.
"Detective Carter said we should stay away."
"But you're not going to, are you?"
I looked at my brothers. They all had the same determined look on their faces.
"No," I said. "We're not."
Sarah nodded. "I thought so."
She was quiet for a moment.
"When you see him... when you see Marco... will you tell him that Leo and I are okay? That we're safe?"
I stared at her.
After everything Marco had done to her. After he'd left her to face his enemies alone. After he'd put her and their son in danger... she still wanted him to know they were safe.
"You're a better person than he deserves," I said.
Sarah smiled sadly. "Maybe. But he's still Leo's father. And I don't want him to worry about us. Even if he doesn't deserve that kindness."
I reached over and squeezed her hand.
"I'll tell him."
Dawn came.
We drove to the docks.
We parked a few blocks away, where we could see the warehouse but wouldn't be seen.
The police were already there. Unmarked cars. Officers in tactical gear. Detective Carter giving instructions.
We watched, our hearts pounding.
Ten years.
Ten years of grief. Ten years of anger. Ten years of wondering where the man who had killed our father was.
And today, it would end.
Detective Carter gave the signal.
The officers moved in.
They surrounded the warehouse.
"POLICE!" someone shouted over a megaphone. "COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP!"
Silence.
Then—
Gunshots.
From inside the warehouse.
The officers returned fire.
My brothers and I tensed, ready to run in there ourselves.
But Tony held us back.
"Wait," he said.
The gunfight lasted for what felt like forever but was probably only a minute.
Then silence.
The officers moved in.
We waited.
And waited.
Finally, Detective Carter came out.
He was talking into his radio. He looked... grim.
He saw us and walked over.
"Well?" Tony asked.
Detective Carter shook his head.
"Marco wasn't there," he said.
My heart sank.
"What?"
"His bodyguards were there," Carter said. "And a lot of guns. But Marco was gone. He must have left yesterday. Jimmy Rizzo's information was old."
He paused.
"But we found something else. Something you should see."
He led us toward the warehouse.
Inside, the air smelled like gunpowder and fear.
Two men were being led out in handcuffs.
And on a table in the middle of the room...
Papers.
Lots of papers.
And photographs.
Photographs of our restaurant.
Photographs of us.
Photographs of Sarah and Leo.
Marco had been watching us.
He knew we were in town.
He knew we were looking for him.
And he knew about his wife and son staying with us.
May you like
"He's planning something," Detective Carter said. "And whatever it is, it's not good."
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