Chapter 5 - The Scar Beneath Her Sleeve
Delaney did not forgive Bryce.
That surprised him.
He had lived in a world where apologies functioned like money.
Offer enough and the transaction closed.
Delaney listened to his apology, accepted the keycard, then said, “I don’t trust you.”
Bryce nodded.
“I know.”
“No, I don’t think you do.”
They sat in the diner after closing.
Allesio remained at the next table.
Ruth Anne was in the kitchen.
“You humiliated me because you thought it was funny,” Delaney said. “You filmed it because you wanted strangers laughing too.”
Bryce stared at his hands.
“I was drunk.”
“That explains balance. Not character.”
He looked up.
“I said I’m sorry.”
“And I heard you.”
“So what else do you want?”
“Nothing.”
That confused him.
“You don’t get forgiveness because you finally became uncomfortable with yourself.”
Allesio said nothing.
But the corner of his mouth shifted.
Bryce noticed.
“You enjoying this?”
“Yes.”
Delaney shot Allesio a look.
He became serious immediately.
Bryce leaned back.
“Fine.”
He looked at Delaney.
“You don’t forgive me.”
“Maybe someday.”
“Okay.”
“But if you’re helping because you think one good act cancels another bad one, stop now.”
Bryce swallowed.
“It doesn’t.”
“No.”
He stood.
Before leaving, he said, “My father keeps a second phone in his office safe.”
“How do you know?”
“I stole it once when I was seventeen.”
“Why?”
“To order a car he said I couldn’t have.”
Delaney blinked.
“You stole your father’s secret phone to buy a car?”
“I wasn’t always a deep thinker.”
Allesio murmured, “Evidence suggests continued challenges.”
Bryce glared.
Then left.
Delaney looked at Allesio.
“That was unnecessary.”
“It was accurate.”
She laughed before she could stop herself.
Allesio went still.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re staring.”
“I’ve never heard you laugh.”
“You’ve known me four months.”
“Three.”
“You tracked me for three.”
“I observed.”
“Stalked.”
“Semantics.”
She reached for a stack of menus.
Her sleeve slid upward.
Allesio saw the scar.
The pale crescent near her wrist.
His face changed.
Delaney noticed.
“That’s how you knew.”
“Yes.”
She touched it.
“I barely remember getting it.”
“I do.”
He leaned back.
“You broke the passenger window with a tire iron.”
“I was sixteen.”
“Yes.”
“That sounds insane.”
“It was.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I wasn’t sure you wanted that night back.”
She considered.
“That’s surprisingly thoughtful.”
“I contain multitudes.”
She smiled.
Then the smile faded.
“What happened before I found you?”
He looked toward the dark windows.
“You really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“My uncle’s organization was at war with another crew.”
Delaney sat.
“Real war?”
“Not tanks.”
“You know what I mean.”
“Yes.”
He paused.
“I wanted out of parts of it.”
“Parts?”
“My family owned legitimate shipping companies. Warehouses. Restaurants. But some money came from things I wanted no part of.”
“Drugs?”
“No.”
“Guns?”
He hesitated.
“Sometimes.”
Her face tightened.
“I argued with my uncle.”
“And somebody shot you.”
“Men loyal to a rival boss intercepted my car.”
“Your driver died.”
“Yes.”
“I remember.”
Allesio’s gaze dropped.
“He had two children.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.”
Delaney touched the scar again.
“What happened afterward?”
“My uncle retaliated.”
“How?”
He did not answer.
She understood.
“You became boss eventually.”
“Six years later.”
“Did you change things?”
“Some.”
“Enough?”
He looked at her.
“No.”
The honesty surprised her.
“Why stay?”
“Because leaving power creates a vacuum, and vacuums attract worse men.”
“That sounds convenient.”
“It is.”
He did not defend himself.
Delaney studied him.
“You’re not what I expected.”
“Good or bad?”
“I haven’t decided.”
He accepted that.
The next morning, Detective Ortiz arrived.
She had news.
The fingerprints from Delaney’s house belonged to a former Howerin security employee named Dennis Kroll.
Kroll had disappeared.
His bank account received twenty thousand dollars the day before the break-in.
Payment came through a shell company.
Allesio recognized the name.
North Vale Consulting.
The same shell company in Elaine Shaw’s records.
“That means they’re still using it,” Delaney said.
Ortiz nodded.
“And they’re getting sloppy.”
“Can you arrest Randolph?”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because shell companies don’t sign confessions.”
Delaney slid Bryce’s keycard across the table.
Ortiz stared.
“Where did you get this?”
“Bryce.”
“Why?”
“He says Randolph is moving money.”
Ortiz looked at Allesio.
“Did you threaten the kid?”
“No.”
“Did one of your people threaten the kid?”
“No.”
“Did you think threatening thoughts near the kid?”
Allesio almost smiled.
“Frequently.”
Ortiz pocketed the card.
“You’re not going into that office.”
Delaney frowned.
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
“I was considering.”
“No.”
“Detective—”
“This isn’t a movie.”
From the kitchen Ruth Anne called, “Could’ve fooled me.”
Ortiz continued.
“We use legal process.”
“And while you get warrants, Randolph moves money.”
“Yes.”
“That’s frustrating.”
“Yes.”
“Your job is frustrating.”
“Extremely.”
Delaney looked at Allesio.
He raised both hands.
“I’m enjoying this.”
Ortiz pointed at him.
“And you stay out.”
“I haven’t said anything.”
“That’s when you’re most suspicious.”
After Ortiz left, Delaney went to work.
At lunch, a woman entered wearing a gray coat.
She looked around nervously.
Then asked for Delaney.
“I’m Delaney.”
The woman’s eyes filled.
“My son had surgery through the Howerin Foundation.”
Delaney’s chest tightened.
“Is he okay?”
“He died.”
Delaney stopped.
“I’m sorry.”
“He needed surgery sooner.”
The woman’s voice shook.
“We were approved for assistance. Then the foundation said funding was exhausted.”
Delaney’s stomach turned.
“When?”
“2019.”
The same period as the transfers.
The woman placed a photograph on the counter.
A smiling little boy missing two front teeth.
“He was eight.”
Delaney covered her mouth.
“I saw your mother’s story on television.”
The woman continued.
“If somebody stole that money…”
She could not finish.
Delaney understood.
This was no longer about protecting her mother’s name.
It was no longer even about Juny.
Money on a spreadsheet had faces.
Children.
Families.
Funerals.
That evening, Delaney stood outside the diner beneath the neon sign.
Allesio joined her.
“You’re thinking loudly.”
“I want him stopped.”
“He will be.”
“No.”
She turned toward him.
“I don’t want you to destroy Randolph Howerin.”
Allesio studied her.
“I want the truth to destroy him.”
“That is usually more effective.”
She looked down.
Her sleeve had slipped again.
The scar showed.
Allesio gently touched the fabric, not her skin.
He waited.
Delaney did not pull away.
So he rolled the cuff down once.
Carefully.
“Why do you always cover it?”
“It isn’t the scar.”
“What is it?”
She hesitated.
Then pulled the sleeve upward.
Higher.
Allesio’s face changed.
Several faint scars crossed her forearm.
Not from Route 9.
“These weren’t from the crash,” he said.
“No.”
“Who?”
Delaney lowered her eyes.
“My father.”
Allesio became frighteningly still.
“He left when I was seventeen.”
“What did he do?”
“He drank.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“Allesio.”
“Is he alive?”
“I don’t know.”
“Name?”
“No.”
His jaw tightened.
“You promised my way.”
He looked away.
“Yes.”
“That means you don’t go looking for every man who ever hurt me.”
He met her eyes.
“What am I supposed to do?”
“Understand that I survived before you found me.”
He absorbed that.
Then nodded.
“I understand.”
Delaney looked toward the dark street.
“No, you’re learning.”
For some reason, that made him smile.
May you like
And for the first time, she realized the feared mafia boss might not be her protector because she was helpless.
Maybe he was becoming her protector because he finally understood she wasn’t.
