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She settled back into the seat and turned her head to gaze out of the window. “The trip to California last year took three days.”
14
Carmine stood in a dank hallway, leaning against the wall beside a door. It was cracked open, the flimsy wood barely hanging on its rusted hinges. Muffled screams of agony rang out of the apartment, keeping Carmine locked in place. Whatever was going on inside of there, he didn’t want to see it.
The prepaid cell phone in his pocket vibrated with a message for the second time that day. He slowly pulled it out, not having to look to know who it was. Sal had given it to him so la famiglia could constantly be in touch, the name untraceable and messages safe from wiretaps. It had gone off for the first time less than an hour ago with nothing but an address. He had dressed, slipping out in the middle of the night, and ran the few blocks to where he was needed.
But getting there and going inside were two different things.
He glanced at the new message on the phone.
Where are you?
He started to type a reply when the apartment door was ripped open from the inside. It slammed into the wall and Carmine jumped as a man stepped out. He was short and husky, a stern expression on his round face and a pair of bolt cutters slung over his shoulder. He said nothing, stalking away as Salvatore stepped out behind him.
“There you are,” Sal said, eyeing Carmine.
“Yeah, I, uh . . . just got here.”
“Ah, well, you missed the fun!” Sal said. “It’s over now.”
“Damn.” Carmine slipped the phone back in his pocket, relief washing through him. “I got here as fast as I could, sir.”
“It’s all right, dear boy,” he replied, throwing his arm over Carmine’s shoulder. “You missed the demonstration, but you can still take notes.”
He pulled Carmine into the apartment before he could object.
The place was vacant of furniture, the old wooden floor covered in grime. Sal led him to the bathroom and Carmine froze in the doorway the moment he caught sight of the body in the bathtub. The man’s arm was slung over the side, his hand secured to the nearby sink with a pair of metal cuffs. He was stark naked and covered in blood, his brown eyes wide open and a look of sheer terror covering his pale face. Duct tape was wrapped around his head, completely covering his mouth.
A blue tarp carpeted the floor, catching the excess blood splatter, but most of it coated the bathtub and sink, the white porcelain wet with bright red. It smelled like metal, the sickening taste of copper tingling the back of his throat.
Carmine averted his gaze, trying to avoid the dead man’s eyes, and Sal laughed at his reaction. “First dead body?”
“No,” he said. “You know it’s not.”
“Ah, yes, Maura. How could I forget?”
o;All of it,” Corrado muttered. “Every bit of it is wrong.”
A sharp, sudden laugh echoed through the room, cutting off as quickly as it had sounded. Corrado didn’t turn around or try to figure out which man it had come from. It wasn’t worth it. He would only want to kill them for mocking him, and the last thing he needed was another death on his hands.
Besides, if his life hadn’t been on the line, he would have likely laughed, too.
Corrado had little hope of finding help anywhere in that room. The indictment, while vexing, mostly rang true. The government had done their homework. His only saving grace would be sabotaging their case.
“Do you want to take these audio recordings home to listen to them?” Mr. Borza asked after a moment.
“Depends,” Corrado said. “How many are there?”
His question was met with silence. Corrado turned around, glancing at his lawyer, and saw the man peering into a massive box. “Two hundred and twenty CDs, I believe.”
Corrado blinked rapidly as he took that in. Two hundred and twenty, each one eighty minutes long. “That’s almost three hundred hours of recordings.”
“That it is,” Mr. Borza said. “Had they included Vincent’s, it would be double that.”
The prosecution had been granted its request to separate Vincent’s and Corrado’s cases under the assumption they had a better chance of a conviction that way. Mr. Borza opted to defend Corrado, likely because he was terrified of rejecting the man. And while Corrado sympathized with his brother-in-law, having to start over on a defense with his life on the line, he certainly wasn’t upset about the new development.
For Corrado suspected Vincent was a man who had already given up hope.
