Chapter 8 - THE DEAL
“No.”
Mom said it before Sterling finished breathing.
“You don’t touch my daughter.”
Sterling laughed.
“Then there’s no deal.”
The call ended.
Mom threw the phone.
It hit the couch.
Vincent caught her before she started pacing.
“You’re not bringing Rory.”
“I know.”
Vega said, “We can use a decoy.”
Mom turned.
“He knows what she looks like.”
“Not a child decoy.”
Vega pointed at the burner.
“We make him think Rory is nearby.”
Hannah frowned.
“How?”
Vincent looked at me.
Everybody looked at me.
I said, “What?”
Two hours later, I recorded six sentences.
“Mom, where are we going?”
“I’m hungry.”
“Can I have juice?”
“Is Mr. Sterling there?”
“I don’t like this.”
“Mom?”
I did not understand why grown-ups looked sad after hearing me say them.
Vincent did.
He walked outside.
Mom watched him go.
I asked, “Did I do it wrong?”
She hugged me.
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“You did perfect.”
The meeting was set for nine that night.
An abandoned banquet hall on the South Side.
Mom wore a wire.
Vega placed teams outside.
Vincent was ordered to stay three blocks away.
He ignored the spirit of that order while technically obeying the distance.
At 8:58, Mom walked inside alone.
I watched from a police van.
Sterling stood under a chandelier with half the bulbs burned out.
He looked terrible.
No suit.
Unshaven.
Eyes jumping everywhere.
“You brought her?”
Mom held up the phone.
I had recorded, “Mom, where are we going?”
Sterling listened.
His shoulders relaxed.
“Good.”
He placed papers on a table.
“Sign.”
Mom looked down.
A confession.
She had stolen thirty-one thousand dollars.
She had fabricated unpaid wage claims.
She was mentally unstable.
She had endangered her child.
Her hand tightened around the pen.
Sterling smiled.
“Then we’re done.”
Mom looked at him.
“No.”
His face changed.
“What?”
“I said I’d meet.”
She set down the pen.
“I didn’t say I’d lie.”
Sterling stepped closer.
“You stupid—”
Mom looked him straight in the eye.
“You starved my daughter.”
He froze.
“You bought a Porsche while she ate crackers for dinner.”
His face twisted.
“I didn’t make you poor.”
“No.”
Mom’s voice shook.
“But you made money off it.”
Outside, Vega whispered, “Hold.”
Sterling moved closer.
“You think anyone cares about a waitress?”
Mom smiled.
“I met someone who did.”
Sterling’s eyes narrowed.
“Vincent Kane?”
Mom said nothing.
Sterling laughed.
“You think Kane cares about you?”
That landed.
I could see it on her face.
Sterling leaned closer.
“He’s using you.”
Mom stayed quiet.
“You know what he is?”
She whispered, “Yes.”
“No, you don’t.”
Sterling smiled.
“He helped finance my first restaurant.”
Inside the police van, Vega sat up.
“What?”
Mom stared at Sterling.
“You’re lying.”
“I wish.”
Sterling leaned close to her wire.
“Vincent Kane gave me the money that built Sterling’s Bistro.”
Mom’s face went blank.
“And when I couldn’t repay him?”
Sterling grinned.
“He taught me exactly what happens to people who owe powerful men money.”
May you like
Outside, three blocks away, Vincent heard every word.
And for the first time since this began, he looked afraid.
