“‘Who are you?’ whispers a scared explorer to the great monster in the mountain.
“‘I am that vast, secret promontory,’ says the Adamastor. ‘You Portuguese call me the Cape of Storms.’”
I study the circles and loops Belina drew around the letters before deciding it’s time to see Cynthia.
After putting Ester in another layer, I throw on a thick sweater and jeans before strapping her onto my chest with the wrap. I slip on my coat and zip it halfway over her. I toe into my snow boots, slinging on the diaper bag, and start walking. I hear Jack getting out of the shower and decide not to open myself up to more questions I can’t answer.
There are more lies than truth between you.
He might not be here when you get back.
I head toward Chip and text Phillip on the walk. He responds that he’ll meet me at Alec’s house in forty-five minutes.
Chip is busy with the lunch crowd, but Cynthia hurries over. She kisses my cheek and scans my face. “Jack called yesterday,” she says. “Are you sure you should be . . . out?”
“I’m fine,” I say, not sure if it’s a lie. “I needed some sleep.”
She grins, the pitying one. “Sure.”
I’m not in the mood to be placated. “What’d you find out from the owner at the Ivy?”
Cynthia hesitates, and I know it’s something good. “Alec was there that night but only for a couple drinks. He left at six p.m., just like they told the police. He was not wasted as he claims—”
“Damn it,” I interrupt, desperate. “He keeps lying.”
She cocks her head to the side and blinks at me. “May I finish?”
“Sorry.”
“He was not wasted at Ivy as he claims because he went next door to Hope Street Pizza Kitchen and got hammered there. He closed the place down.”
“So two a.m.?”
“Actually, the waitress, Joanna, helped close and remembers him eating a gyro, so it was more like three a.m.”
“The police never questioned her?”
“She was out from knee surgery when the police were there. They only did one round of questioning. The bartender that night left early and didn’t remember Alec.”
“Oh,” I say. “What did the server say?”
“Alec was meeting with one of their regular customers, who is a lawyer,” she says. “Care to guess what kind?”
“Divorce,” I say.
“The lawyer left after an hour, so he wouldn’t have helped with the alibi. But what does help is that Alec kept drinking. He was buying people shots and singing loudly. They just had one other waitress and one bartender working that night and were slammed. But when I showed her Alec’s picture, she remembered him.”
I grin at Cynthia, refraining from kissing her full on the mouth. “This is amazing,” I say. “Truly, you’ve saved his life.”
There’s worry in her eyes as if she’s wondering if saving Alec’s life comes with the price of mine.
“Got a couple to-go coffees?” I ask.
“Soy milk, three Splenda?” she asks, quoting Phillip’s usual order.
She doesn’t wait for my answer and instead goes behind the counter to quickly make them. I carry them in a tray, lessening the chance that either drips on Ester.
I walk cautiously down Hope Street, where there are several patches of salted sidewalk with ice shining. Even though it’s the steepest way, I wind down the well-shoveled and salted sidewalks of Rochambeau Street. Against my chest, Ester sleeps soundly. I feel her breath rise and fall. I can almost hear the soft murmurs echo in my ears.
How dare you bring her into this cold weather.
Everyone will see you’re the worst mother.
I stumble at the voice, loud and strong despite the cacophony of wind in my ears. Starting down Cole Avenue, I see Phillip’s car outside Alec’s house. The smoke from the tailpipe signals Phillip is waiting for me even before I see his outline in the driver’s seat.
As I near the car, he shuts it off and steps outside. He makes a big show of pointing to the alarm and activating it with a short beep, beep. “Scary neighborhood,” he says with a grin. “You okay?”
I hand him the coffee tray and run my gloved hands along Ester’s back. “Let’s go.”
Phillip leads us up the unshoveled sidewalk. There are footprints everywhere and small round marks where camera tripods were set up. I frown at the poop bags littering the snow.
Phillip knocks, and one of the curtains covering a narrow window by the door flutters opens. I see Misha’s cool blue gaze for an instant, and then she’s gone. Phillip clears his throat, adjusting his scarf. As he starts to knock again, the lock clicks, and the door opens.
“He’s putting Emmett down for a nap,” she says. “What do you want?”
“We have evidence that will keep him home,” I say. “But we need to speak with him privately.”
Her breath stutters, almost sounding huffy, but her eyes are relieved. “Okay.”
She shuts the door in our faces, and we stand there, not sure what to do. My anger spikes because she saw Ester and didn’t invite us inside.
Minutes pass, and then the door opens again. It’s Alec or a version of him. He’s thinner, unshaven, and the circles under his eyes are nearing the color of plums. I reach over and give him a side hug, squeezing his arm tight. “I’m glad you’re out,” I say. “Can we talk?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he says, as if he was expecting us. “Out back okay?”
Ester is warm against me and sleeping well, but I want to get her inside. “Seriously?”
“Why don’t we sit in my car?” Phillip suggests as a burst of cold wind scatters snow in our faces.
We hurry, and I get there first and open the door to the back seat. I slide inside and scoot forward so Ester has more room to stretch within the wrap. She remains settled as I gently pat her. Alec and Phillip shut the doors to sit up front.
The car starts, heat already cranked to full blast. We sit, warming up, waiting for someone to begin.
“I can’t go back,” Alec says. He runs his knuckles over the bottom of the passenger window where it’s fogging over. “I’ll do whatever you say. Please help me.”
You aren’t capable.
It’s all gone too far.
You’ve ruined everything.
“We will help,” Phillip begins, glancing at me in the mirror before continuing. “But we need the truth. All of it.”
“Okay,” Alec says. “Whatever you want.”
I lean forward a bit more. “How did you meet Belina?”
“Ricky introduced us,” he says. “She was working for Ricky’s boss, Stefano, and wanted a change. Misha had just fired another nanny, and Ricky thought Belina could do it. He’d brought her around to a couple polo matches, and I already liked her. I mean, she put up with Ricky. I just didn’t know about her and Stefano. That made it complicated.”
“She was dating Ricky and Stefano at the same time?” I ask.
“I don’t know if she was dating Ricky. They honestly didn’t seem to like each other very much. I only know about her and Stefano because of what happened later.”
“The money.” Phillip shifts to stare at Alec. “You admit that you were laundering money for Stefano?” he says. “Through your business?”
Alec turns away, and his fingers squeak against the window as he runs them back and forth. “Yeah,” he says. “I didn’t really have a choice. Stefano presented this opportunity after I got the grant from your uncle.” He glances back to me. “I needed cash, and he was so successful. I didn’t even realize it was that illegal at first.”
“Jesus,” I whisper, frustrated by that very Alec-like answer, as if it were a silly mistake. Whatever was left of my waning sympathy is gone. “We know you were meeting with your divorce attorney at Hope Street Pizza Kitchen,” I say. “Or did that just happen all of a sudden too?”
“Misha will leave me,” Alec shouts, and I put my hand on Ester. “I lost Belina,”
he says, softer, “now Misha. I never thought . . .”
“What happened when you told Stefano you were going to get a divorce?” I ask. “Did he want his money back?”
“Yeah,” Alec says. “I spent it to get things cleaned up with Misha. Belina had, you know, projected or whatever, that we’d be able to cover it long term, but things dried up. We had our worst quarter. Suddenly, I owed a half million dollars. But we were going to figure it out.”
“Stefano didn’t agree?” I ask.
Alec rubs his eye. “He punched me in the face.”
“Oh.” Phillip shoots me an intrigued look in the mirror. “He’s a violent guy?”
“He’s basically a thug in a fancy house,” Alec says bitterly. “I should have known better.”
“I don’t think you’re as dumb as you’re playing,” I say. “You knew CF was Stefano. That it’s more than likely he killed Belina. You lied. A lot. Why?”
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I still can’t believe they think I did it. I kept expecting that detective to catch the real killer. How could I ask Misha to support me when I was about to leave her? Bail me out like she did—” He pauses when his voice breaks. “If you can get me out of this . . . please, I can’t go back to jail. I can’t miss out on my son’s life.”
“If Stefano sent you a half million in dirty money,” I say, “you needed other sources to clean it besides the twelve boats.”
“Yeah,” Alec says. He slumps his body as if all that he’d been hiding was finally let go. “We used my boat to take coolers to New York regularly.”
“Black market fish?” I guess. “Cash?”
“Yeah.” Alec begins to fidget. No longer lazing his finger along the glass, he’s rubbing his thumbs together, scratching his shoulder, shifting in his seat. “Drugs too.”
He’s just as dirty as Stefano.
Why protect him now?
Because you’re just as guilty.
You’re just as bad as the boys.
I frown. “Ricky was with you on these New York runs?”
“Yeah, he brought the idea to Stefano,” Alec says. “Once the FBI targeted Stefano’s business . . . he needed us more. He had a lot of money to clean and hide. If things got bad.”
“You knew about the FBI sniffing around?” I snap. “Stefano told you? When?”
His chin drops, his whole face twisting left as he unsuccessfully holds back tears. “Not Stefano . . . Belina told me, just before she left to meet him that night . . . she told me that she knew the FBI was on to him and maybe us. She was going to give Stefano this money she had saved. And then the three of us . . . Belina and me and Emmett. We were going to start over.” Alec puts his head in his hands. “I loved her so much, and now everything is gone.”
I suck in a long breath, trailing my fingers along Ester’s back. Then I put the hand on Alec, squeezing his now boney shoulder.
“How could I go to jail when I didn’t kill her?” His voice is so distant, as if he’s speaking only to himself. “My life is over. And she . . . we . . . she was pregnant,” he sobs. “Oh God, the baby.”
I see it in a flash of memory, how Belina stared at my pregnant stomach that last afternoon I spent with her. Then later in the video, how she wrapped her arms around her waist in the gazebo, wearing Alec’s coat, staring at the river where her body would be dumped just a few hours later.
She needed you.
You ignored her.
God punished you both.
God’s not done with you, girlie.
“Alec,” I whisper, my hand still on him. “You should have told me.”
“It was just once,” he murmurs. “We didn’t want to have an affair. I loved her and told her, and she said she loved me too.” His voice is so soft, far away. “That’s why I had to move things along so fast. Paying off the mortgage, keeping Misha happy, and working for Stefano more. To get our new life started. Guess it was stupid, but at the time . . .”
“You can still be a father to Emmett,” I say, squeezing his shoulder, wanting him to keep fighting. “But you’re going to have to admit everything you did for Stefano. Even things that implicate Belina or Ricky.”
“I don’t want anyone to know about the baby,” he says.
I frown, glancing at Phillip. “The detective didn’t mention it? Her autopsy would have—”
“He lied about it,” he says, sounding disgusted. “They said the baby’s not mine. It’s an interrogation tactic, right? Assholes.”
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes, an alert that lets me know it’s an email from my brother. He confirms that the money Belina transferred was to an account belonging to Stefano. And the same account sent the money to Tina. From one payoff to the next.
I find Phillip’s stare again in the mirror. “Let’s call Agent Fincher.”
Chapter 29
The sun has set, and rush hour traffic is quiet. I watched most of it from a small conference room in the US Attorney’s Office, where the state’s FBI office operates downtown on Dorrance Street. Alec’s attorney got there shortly after us. Max interviewed Alec for almost four hours straight.
The attorney did a masterful job negotiating immunity for Alec’s testimony against Stefano. It wiped clean any charges against Alec related to the transporting of illegal fish, cash, or drugs. Alec was released without going into protective custody while Max continues to build the case.
I sat next to Alec in that room because he asked me. Squeezed his hand when his voice faltered. Gave him an encouraging nod whenever his scared gaze darted my way. He didn’t mention Belina’s pregnancy, but now that I know, I recognize his shame. The resentment of our sad shared knowledge. After it was over, with the last look he gave me, I knew he’d never want to see me again.
That’s how everyone leaves you.
Full of regret.
Full of shame.
Detective Ramos said they didn’t know who the father was. My guess is that’ll change once they arrest Stefano and compare his DNA. More motive for him killing Belina.
With Alec’s testimony over, he asked Phillip, who’d worked in a small office during the interview, to drive him home. It’s almost time for me to walk over to Jack’s office, where I left Ester with Gillian. Hopefully, he’ll be done for the day and can give me a ride to Uncle Cal’s.
Instead of leaving, I find an outlet in the women’s bathroom and pump a bottle while deciding I need one more conversation with Max.
I find him in the interrogation room, reviewing his notes. “What part of Stefano are you most interested in?” I ask, hoping that since the immunity deal is done, he can be more open.
He glances up at me and then back to his notes. “The drugs,” he says. “Though he may get more time for the black market fish. They do not fuck around at NOAA.”
I chuckle. “How about the money laundering?”
“It’s tough to prove. We’re looking at about . . . fifteen counts so far.”
“What if you get a tip? Some anonymous informant?”
Now he laughs a little. “I don’t know, Devon. I’d rather find it on my own. The right way.”
“Wait until you see it first,” I say. “Can you give me anything?”
He nods once, tightly, and I know it’ll come from an email account not tied to him. He used it before when I was trying to find something on Phillip to keep him from releasing the money-laundering story about Uncle Cal.
“Thank you,” I say and stand up.
“Need a ride?”
“No thanks.” I start toward the door and pause. “Do you think Belina told Stefano about the FBI? Or did he tell her?”
Max crosses his arms, his suit coat too tight for his muscles. “No offense, but I’m not sharing anything about the case with anyone besides Frank. I’ve already lost too much trusting people.”
“Trusting who?” I say.
“Doesn’t matter anymore,” he says. “Thanks to you.”
You were wrong about everything.
Jack is outside in the car, and I sit with Ester in the back. He doesn’t ask why I was at the FBI. Instead we drive in silence through College Hill, the neighborhood next to ours. My mind can’t settle, and then Ester begins to cry. I shush her, hum a sea shanty song I half remember from Gillian.
Jack wants to leave you.
Wants all of this to be over.
To be free of you.
To be free of this terrible child you forced him to have.
“I’m sorry,” I say, but he doesn’t look angry. He looks so damn sad. After a few seconds, I find my courage. “I need to see Uncle Cal.”
He slows down momentarily but then goes faster, up the hill, down the historic narrow Benefit Street, the cobblestone road reverberating the back seat. He continues toward Uncle Cal’s house until we’re there, sitting in silence.
“I’m not stupid,” he says finally. “I know Uncle Cal is pulling the strings. Working some angle you probably don’t even see.” He sighs, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. “I expected it of him. But you promised it’d be different.”
I glance at Ester, who’s fallen asleep, and I wonder why I can’t change for her. Change for Jack. “I have to help Belina,” I say. “What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t?”
He drops his head back. “I don’t know what to do.”
“I can take her in,” I say.
“She’s fine in here,” he snaps, and in the mirror I see him work to gather patience. “Half hour enough time?”
I run my fingers along his arm, but he pulls away. He gets out and pushes his seat forward so I can get out. “Thank you,” I say as I stand. I give him a kiss on the cheek, but he looks pained as he returns to the car.
He won’t come back.
If he’s smart, it’s the last time you’ll see either of them.
Ringing Uncle Cal’s doorbell, I’m unsure what I should say, only that I owe him this visit.
He’s not your real uncle.
He’s using you because that’s all you’re worth.
Uncle Cal answers in his work suit, martini in his hand, face a bit surprised.
“I’m coming from Agent Fincher’s office,” I say. “We need to talk.”
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