Chapter 11 - WHO PAYS THE PRICE
Antonio kept his voice even. “What about Sophie?”
“She’s digging through things she doesn’t understand.”
Park held up a hand, asking him to keep Bellini talking.
“She found her grandmother’s records,” Antonio said.
A pause. Then Bellini laughed softly. “Rosa collected paper like some people collect stamps.”
“Meet me and explain it.”
“I’d rather you come alone.”
Bellini named a time and a place. Park wrote both down. When he hung up, she told Antonio not to go without her team’s plan in place.
I wanted to tell Bellini myself that Rosa had been right. Instead, I went to her apartment and sat on the floor beside the sewing machine.
Lena arrived with takeout. We ate in silence until I said, “I spent her last year thinking the bills were my fault somehow. Like if I worked one more shift, I could make it all okay.”
“You were there for her,” Lena said.
“I was too tired to ask why the charges kept changing.”
“You trusted what the clinic sent you. Most people would.”
The next morning, Park called. Bellini had canceled the meeting. Someone had tipped him off that police were watching.
Marco was in custody. Ruth was cooperating. Price had handed over his backup. Still, Bellini seemed to know every move.
Park narrowed her questions to who had access to the investigation. A clerk at Harbor Bridge had also been sending Bellini copies of document requests. Once Park found the leak, she stopped him, but Bellini was already preparing to leave New York.
Maria came to see me that afternoon. We sat at my grandmother’s little kitchen table.
“Antonio thinks he can fix everything if he reaches Bellini first,” she said. “He’s been like that since he was a boy.”
“He already tried that.”
“I know. He told me.” She turned her cup in its saucer. “I’m asking you to call me if he does something foolish.”
“You’d have to be more specific.”
Maria laughed, then grew serious. “Rosa trusted me with her concerns because she knew I loved my son. She hoped I’d make him listen.”
“Did you?”
“Too late.”
She opened her purse and showed me a photograph of Rosa holding me as a baby. I had never seen it.
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On the back, in my grandmother’s handwriting, were four words:
Tell Sophie when ready.
