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“How long ago did you initiate?” the other officer asked casually, changing the subject.
Carmine glanced at him, surprised at his nonchalance. “Initiate what?”
“La Cosa Nostra.”
He scoffed. “You’re joking, right?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?” he asked, raising his voice. “We know you’re involved, so there’s no sense denying it.”
“You must’ve watched Scarface one too many times,” he muttered. “That shit’s not real. It doesn’t exist.”
He sighed exasperatedly, giving Carmine an annoyed look. ”We know it exists. We’re not stupid.”
“Neither am I,” Carmine snapped. “Take your bullshit questions about the Mafia elsewhere, because I have nothing to say about it. Period. End of motherfucking story.”
A tense silence fell over the room before Agent Cerone cleared his throat. “I saw her, you know.”
“Who?” Carmine asked, the shift in topic catching him off guard.
“Haven,” he clarified, his lips twitching as he fought back a smile.
“How . . . ?” His confusion deepened. How the fuck? “You’re lying.”
“I’m not,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about looking her up again.”
“Leave her the fuck alone,” Carmine spat, standing and shoving his chair back in haste. “I swear to God if you—”
Before he could finish, Mr. Borza grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat. “Threatening my client’s loved ones isn’t going to help you.”
“I wasn’t threatening anyone. I was simply saying—”
“We’re all well aware of what you were saying,” Mr. Borza said, “and it was nothing but a thinly veiled threat. You claim to want his cooperation, but yet you bring up Miss Antonelli in an attempt to upset him further.”
“I did no such thing,” Agent Cerone said. “As far as I’m concerned, he doesn’t care about her. In fact, last we spoke, he denied even knowing her.”
“Then why bring her up at all?” Mr. Borza countered. “I requested once that you stay on topic and it’s clear you have no intention of doing so. Mr. DeMarco agreed to answer your questions, but he’s under no obligation. Given the fact that mere hours ago he witnessed his father’s murder, I’d say he’s been quite forthcoming.”
“He’s given us nothing,” the other officer said, still glaring at Carmine.
“That’s because he has nothing to give,” Mr. Borza retorted. “You can’t get from him what he doesn’t know. Because of that, I’m going to have to say this conversation is over. Either charge him with something or let him go.”
“We don’t have to do either,” the officer said smugly, crossing his arms over his chest. “We have every right to detain him.”
“True, but you won’t. Not only is my client injured, but he’s also traumatized. The media would have a field day if you detained him . . . as if you don’t already have enough damage control to do. You don’t need to add harassing an innocent man to it.”
“Harassing? Innocent? He’s one of them!”
“Him?” Mr. Borza asked, glancing at Carmine. “You honestly believe the public is going to look at this boy and think ‘criminal’?”
Agent Cerone sighed. “You’re right.”
The officer looked at him with disbelief. “You’re going to let him walk?”
“I gave my word,” Agent Cerone said quietly, pushing his chair back and glancing at his watch. “Sit tight while I secure your release. I told you I’d have you out by morning and it looks like I was right, considering the sun will be up soon.”
38
Kelsey and Haven sat at the diner near their brownstone in a booth by the door. It was Sunday morning on their first weekend of summer vacation. There were a few other patrons in the diner, an elderly couple a few seats away and a family in the back, as well as two men drinking coffee at the bar.
