Chapter 4 - Nobody Touches Juny
The front window was broken when they arrived.
Police vehicles filled the street.
Delaney jumped from the car before it stopped completely.
Allesio caught her arm.
“Wait.”
“My sister is inside.”
“So are police.”
“I don’t care.”
“I do.”
She looked at him.
Not possessive.
Not commanding.
Afraid.
That stopped her for half a second.
Then the front door opened.
“Laney!”
Juny ran outside.
Delaney broke free and crossed the yard.
They collided halfway down the walkway.
Juny was barefoot, wearing pajama pants and an oversized cardiology-clinic sweatshirt.
Delaney wrapped both arms around her.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Did he touch you?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Laney, breathe.”
“I am breathing.”
“You’re really not.”
Delaney laughed and cried simultaneously.
Behind them, Allesio remained near the car.
He did not approach.
Juny noticed.
“Who’s Batman?”
Delaney turned.
“What?”
“The giant guy dressed in black who looks like he owns Gotham.”
Despite everything, Delaney laughed.
Allesio heard.
“I’ve been called worse.”
Juny squinted.
Then recognition arrived.
“Oh my God.”
“No.”
“You’re him.”
“Juny.”
“The mafia guy from the video.”
Allesio coughed.
Delaney closed her eyes.
“This is why fourteen-year-olds should not have internet access.”
Juny whispered, “He’s hotter in person.”
“Inside. Now.”
“Heart patient.”
“You’re abusing that excuse.”
“Doctor’s orders.”
Allesio almost smiled.
Police found no intruder.
The man had entered through the side window, searched Delaney’s bedroom, then fled when he heard sirens approaching.
He left fingerprints.
He also left something else.
A note.
BRING BACK WHAT ELAINE STOLE.
Delaney stared.
“My mother didn’t steal anything.”
Allesio stood beside her in the kitchen.
“People who steal millions tend to redefine ownership.”
Detective Lena Ortiz collected the note.
Unlike the uniformed officers, she knew exactly who Allesio was.
Her expression toward him was not friendly.
“Corsetti.”
“Detective.”
“You want to explain why your people arrived two minutes after patrol?”
“I drive faster.”
“You expect me to believe that?”
“No.”
She looked at Delaney.
“You involved with him?”
“No.”
Allesio said simultaneously, “Yes.”
Delaney turned.
“What?”
“I’m involved in keeping you alive.”
“That is not what she asked.”
Ortiz sighed.
“I already regret this case.”
Then she saw the document bag.
“What’s that?”
Delaney looked at Allesio.
He did not answer for her.
Good.
She faced Ortiz.
“Evidence that Randolph Howerin’s medical foundation diverted millions from patient-assistance funds.”
Everything changed.
By sunrise, state financial investigators were involved.
Copies of Elaine Shaw’s files went to prosecutors.
The originals went into evidence.
The Copper Kettle eviction was temporarily blocked by emergency injunction.
Randolph Howerin went on television at noon.
He called everything a fabrication.
He called Elaine Shaw a “disgruntled former employee.”
Delaney watched from the diner kitchen.
Her hands trembled.
“My mother can’t defend herself.”
Ruth Anne stood beside her.
“You can.”
Randolph continued.
He expressed “deep concern” over organized-crime involvement in the allegations.
A photograph of Allesio appeared.
Then a photograph of Delaney.
Taken outside her home that morning.
The caption read:
WAITRESS LINKED TO CORSETTI CRIME FIGURE.
Delaney stared.
“That was fast.”
Allesio stood behind her.
“Howerin knows how to redirect a story.”
“Now everyone thinks I’m your mistress.”
“Not everyone.”
She looked at him.
He cleared his throat.
“Probably many people.”
“Helpful.”
“I try.”
She turned off the television.
Her phone immediately rang.
Hospital billing.
She answered.
“Ms. Shaw, I’m calling regarding Juniper Shaw’s surgical deposit.”
Delaney’s shoulders tightened.
“Yes.”
“Your current payment arrangement will not meet the preoperative requirement.”
“I know.”
“We need twenty percent within six weeks.”
“How much?”
“Sixteen thousand eight hundred.”
Delaney closed her eyes.
“I’m working on it.”
“Ms. Shaw, without the deposit, scheduling may be delayed.”
“She cannot delay.”
“I understand, but—”
Allesio watched her face.
Delaney turned away from him.
“I will get it.”
She ended the call.
He did not offer money.
That mattered.
Instead he asked, “How long?”
“Six weeks.”
“How much?”
“Don’t.”
“I’m asking, not paying.”
She hesitated.
“Sixteen-eight.”
He nodded.
“Can the diner hold a fundraiser?”
She looked at him.
“That was almost a normal-person suggestion.”
“I occasionally have them.”
Ruth Anne said, “We can do breakfast all day.”
Juny, sitting in a booth doing homework, shouted, “I can sell drawings.”
Delaney looked toward her.
“You are not funding your own surgery with art.”
“Capitalism, Laney.”
Ruth Anne pointed a spatula toward Juny.
“I like her.”
The fundraiser plan spread across Halver.
Something strange happened.
People came.
Truck drivers.
Teachers.
Nurses.
Factory workers.
Parents whose children had once received foundation assistance.
Some donated five dollars.
Some fifty.
An anonymous envelope held two thousand.
Delaney immediately looked toward Allesio.
He lifted both hands.
“Not me.”
She believed him.
By midnight, they raised $11,420.
Delaney cried in the supply closet.
Ruth Anne pretended not to see.
Then Juny appeared.
“We’re close.”
“Yes.”
“We’ll make it.”
Delaney wiped her eyes.
“We will.”
Juny hugged her.
After she left, Allesio appeared in the doorway.
“You hide badly.”
“I wasn’t hiding.”
“You were crying beside canned tomatoes.”
“I like privacy.”
He leaned against the frame.
“For what it’s worth, your mother would be proud.”
Delaney’s face changed.
“You didn’t know her.”
“No.”
“Then don’t say things like that.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
He started leaving.
“Allesio.”
He turned.
It was the first time she used his first name.
He noticed.
“So what can you say?”
He considered.
“I can say I’m proud of you.”
She stared at him.
“That sounds worse somehow.”
“Probably.”
But neither smiled.
For a moment, the noise from the diner disappeared.
He looked at her as if she were not tired, not poor, not the woman from the viral video.
Just Delaney.
Her heart beat strangely.
Then a glass shattered in the dining room.
Both turned.
Bryce Howerin stood inside.
Alone.
No friends.
No camera.
He looked wrecked.
Unshaven.
Eyes bloodshot.
Every customer fell silent.
Allesio stepped forward.
Delaney moved first.
“What do you want?”
Bryce looked at her.
“My father is lying.”
Nobody moved.
Delaney’s pulse quickened.
“About what?”
“Everything.”
He looked toward Allesio.
“My dad knows who broke into your house.”
Allesio’s expression darkened.
Bryce swallowed.
“And if he finds out I came here, I’m dead.”
Delaney studied him.
“This isn’t one of your jokes?”
“No.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because my father just told me I’m responsible for destroying the family.”
Bryce laughed bitterly.
“He said if I hadn’t humiliated some nobody waitress, none of this would have surfaced.”
Delaney flinched.
Bryce saw it.
For once, shame appeared.
“I’m sorry.”
She did not respond.
He continued.
“There’s a gala next week. Howerin Foundation annual benefit.”
“I know.”
“My dad is moving money before investigators freeze the accounts.”
Allesio stepped closer.
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you know?”
Bryce pulled a keycard from his pocket.
“His private office.”
Allesio did not take it.
Delaney did.
Bryce stared at her.
“If you want to destroy him, that’s where you start.”
Delaney looked down at the card.
Then back at the man who had spit in her face days earlier.
“Why are you helping me?”
May you like
His answer was almost a whisper.
“Because today I finally realized what my father thinks of people when they stop being useful.”
