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Joseph sat on the edge of the white bench, facing the exquisitely crafted marble mausoleum that bore the name ANGELO COLONE in gold block letters. The structure was extravagant, made entirely of solid white marble with gilded touches and twin marble columns flanking it. The land on which it sat was peaceful and undisturbed—all green manicured lawns and gently sloping hills. It was an idyllic spot for eternal rest, one that bespoke the power and importance of those who resided there.
Angelo was the epitome of that definition.
He’d always been bigger than life, even as a boy with a legion of loyal followers—other kids standing behind him, playing stickball in the street. As a grown man, he kept that legion, expanded upon it, and climbed the ladder in a major organized crime family, a capo with a team of soldiers who did his bidding. Still, while the direction his power had taken him had been dark, his loyalty to and love for his friends and family had been indisputable and unwavering.
Joseph was the living example of that.
A songbird trilled in the tree overhead, and Joseph looked up, smiling as he felt Angelo’s presence. He’d planned this particular visit for the past few days, but he’d pictured it in his head since the day Angelo had passed. And now that the initial pandemonium of the primary win had quieted down, with only Donna’s and Lina’s frantic last-minute party planning as center stage, it was time to make this moment a reality.
Time ticked by as Joseph sat, head bent, paying his respects to the man who’d been his closest friend since childhood and who’d gifted him with his greatest blessings: his family, his career, and now his future.
“Hello, Angelo,” he said at last. “You know why I’m here. I’ve been thinking of you ever since the phone call came, and I wish you could have been there to share it with me.” Joseph interlaced his fingers, trying to put his feelings into words. “I’ve visited you here many times since you left us, and yet, this time seems the most humbling and significant—the culmination of all you’ve done for me and for my family.”
He reached down to open the cooler he’d brought with him, taking out a bottle of Prosecco and two fluted glasses.
“I’ve celebrated with Donna and Lina, with my campaign team, and with my constituents. But this bottle I saved to share with you. Just the two of us.” Joseph held the bottle up as if for Angelo to see. Then, sensing his friend’s approval, he placed the Prosecco back down on the bench beside him, removed the foil and eased out the stopper, and filled the two fluted glasses. He placed one glass on the smooth stone in front of the mausoleum and gripped the other in his hand.
“I don’t know how you did it, but somehow everything good that’s ever happened to me had your hand in it. You’ve given me all my dreams, including Tuesday night’s win—and gifts that are so much more precious. Always know that I’m fulfilling my promise to you, Angelo, and doing all you asked. Jimmy is safe and thriving, and I plan to make sure he always will be. But I can never truly repay you. I wish you were here in the flesh to toast with me—I know how much you believed in my success. I miss you, my friend. But a part of you will always be with me.” Joseph lifted his glass. “To you, Angelo. Grazie, amico mio.”
* * *
From behind a thick cluster of trees, Jimmy watched and listened.
He shouldn’t be anywhere near this cemetery. He’d been expunged years ago. But he loved his brother. He needed his brother. And he couldn’t stay away. So he’d crept onto the grounds, choosing a hiding place where he could pay his respects and beg for Angelo’s strength and guidance.
He hadn’t expected Joseph to be here. Joseph would ream the hell out of Jimmy if he saw him.
Still, Jimmy didn’t leave. He remained where he was, listening to everything Angelo’s dearest friend had to say. As the words sank in, Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut, tears seeping out from beneath his closed lids. Safe? Thriving? He was anything but. Day after day, he battled the drowning sensation that threatened to engulf him, drag him under for good.
Joseph could promise Angelo the world, and God help him, he believed what he was saying. But he didn’t know what he was talking about. Yeah, Angelo had been shrewd enough to keep those fucking girls under surveillance all these years—just in case. But now that “just in case” had happened? Unless Jimmy could make Gia Russo and Danielle Murano go back to their separate lives, the past would become the present, everything would blow up in his face, and his entire world would come crashing down.
And there was no way he was getting them to back down. Not with that ball-breaking investigative firm on their payroll.
He’d run out of options. He’d have to get rid of them. It would have to be done carefully, in two separate hits, so there were no glaring red flags about twins being knocked off. And the media coverage, especially the photos, would have to be hidden from Lina. She was Angelo’s godchild and his namesake. She had to be protected at all costs.
Maybe it was Jimmy’s proximity to the mausoleum that made him feel so close to Angelo. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him. But he could actually hear his brother’s voice clearly in his head: Finish what you started, Jimmy. Make things right and make me proud.
Jimmy would do that, no matter what it cost him. He’d make his brother proud and silence the damage he’d done twenty-seven years ago, the night he’d set this nightmare in motion.
The night he’d killed Anthony Ponti and his wife.
CHAPTER 28
Offices of Forensic Instincts
Sunday midday
Hutch was nursing a cup of coffee in Casey’s kitchen when she appeared in the doorway, wearing a fitted, cobalt-blue Armani jersey sheath and matching heels.
“What do you think?” she asked, turning from side to side. “Appropriate for the Brandos’ social scene?”
Staring, Hutch let out a long, low whistle. “You look… wow. I’d like to forget the promise I made to my boss to come in for a Sunday workday, call your regrets in to Donna Brando, and peel you out of that dress.”
Casey laughed. “I take that as a yes.”
Hutch studied her with that intense expression of his, not sharing her laughter. “I know you told me that Emma is friends with Angelina Brando, Joseph’s daughter, which is why you’re attending this victory party. But I’m not stupid. The fact that you didn’t ask to bring a plus-one and that the whole FI team is going means this isn’t a social appearance for you. If you’re investigating the Brandos for the case you’re working on, be careful. They’re a powerful family, and Joseph Brando represents the interests and estate of Angelo Colone. That hasn’t hurt his campaign, so it probably means nothing other than the fact that the two men were childhood friends. But it does mean you should be careful.”
Casey blinked in surprise. “I didn’t realize you’d done so much research on Joseph Brando. Pretty impressive, given I haven’t even told you what we’re investigating.”
