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Celia gathered the bail money as the men were processed out of the system. It was later that evening when Vincent walked out the front doors of the jail to come face-to-face with his sister, leaning against the side of her car, her face lined with worry as if she had aged a decade over night.
“Hey, little brother.” She forced a smile. “You look like hell.”
“Look who’s talking,” he said. “You’re starting to look like Ma.”
She laughed awkwardly. “Ouch, low blow. Speaking of Mom, you should call her. She’s worried about you.”
“That woman hates me,” Vincent said. “She’s probably worried I’ll publicly disgrace the DeMarco name.”
“She doesn’t hate you. She just has a strange way of showing her love. I had to talk her out of calling the Department of Corrections to ask if the foot of your bed faced the door, since it’s bad luck. She was worried your soul would slip out while you slept.”
Despite his stress, he managed to smile. “Must be why I got lucky enough to be released today. The bed faced the other way.”
Things grew tense as they drove toward Portage Park in silence. “Did Corrado get released?”
“Yes,” she said. “He went home an hour ago.”
Vincent turned to look out the window. He wanted to ask about Carmine, but it was an answer he wasn’t ready to hear. It had been two weeks since the girl disappeared, and Vincent couldn’t imagine what his son was going through.
When they reached the Moretti’s house, Celia headed inside without waiting for him. He followed, his footsteps faltering when he heard her frantically whispering in Corrado’s office.
“I couldn’t do it,” she said. “How am I supposed to tell him?”
“You know him better than anyone,” Corrado said. “He’ll take it better coming from you.”
“It doesn’t matter who it comes from—he’s going to flip out.”
“That may be true, but someone needs to tell Vincent.”
Vincent stepped into the doorway. “Tell me what?”
Celia stammered. “Carmine was worried. Or, he is worried. He couldn’t just sit around. I suspected what he was going to do, but I couldn’t forbid him. I didn’t even know if I should. He’s an adult, and it’s not what she would want for him, and I knew you’d be upset, but it’s his life. And he was worried, Vincent. You were in jail, and he didn’t know who else to turn to.”
Her statements were disjointed, but the gist of them registered with him. “Don’t tell me he . . . No, there’s no way he went to them after everything I did to make sure it didn’t happen.”
“He did.”
“You’re wrong! He’s not that stupid, Celia!”
Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m not wrong.”
“Then you misunderstood.”
“I didn’t,” she said. “Giovanni was here with him.”
“Giovanni? You have to be kidding. If he—”
“Vincent,” Corrado said, his harsh voice cutting him off. “You know there are things we cannot and should not say as men of honor, and you’re teetering dangerously close to saying something you’ll later regret.”
“But this is Carmine we’re talking about. This is my son!”
“Yes, and he’s made his choice. He’s in the life now, and nothing can change that fact.”
“There has to be something! Carmine isn’t cut out for this! He’s throwing his life away and why, Corrado? For what?”
“For her,” he said, giving him an incredulous look. “How soon you forget. You were once that eighteen-year-old boy, turning to La Cosa Nostra to save the woman you loved.”
“But I didn’t save her! She’s dead, and if I would’ve never gotten involved in this, she’d—”
