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But the prospect that she’d been viciously murdered by Max’s family was so much worse.
I drew in a shuddering breath and hardened my resolve. Continuing on in ignorance and uncertainty was no longer an option. I could face the proof that would be in my mother’s autopsy and the arson report. I had to be strong enough to bear it.
Mike had shared the details for his contact at the D.A.’s office when I’d asked him about the Bratva. They should be able to help me access the records I needed.
I straightened my shoulders and gathered my courage before returning to the office to make the call.
My hands shook, and I firmed my fingers around my phone to prevent myself from dropping it. I’d just received an email from the D.A.’s office asking me to call them when I had a minute. There was only an hour left in the workday, but I couldn’t wait a minute longer before I found out the truth. Mike would have to forgive me for taking a break to make a personal call.
I stepped into the break room, wishing I had somewhere more private where I could fall to pieces after I got confirmation of the horrific reports. Luckily, the room was empty so close to the end of the day, so I would have a moment to myself.
My knees were rubbery, so I dropped down onto the worn couch as I entered the D.A. office’s contact details in my phone. It rang twice before the receptionist answered.
“This is Allie Fitzgerald,” I informed her. “I received an email from your office asking me to call. I spoke with you earlier about pulling the autopsy and arson report for Marie Fitzgerald?” The last lilted like a question as all the air left my chest.
“Oh, yes. I’m afraid I have some disappointing news. The records are missing.”
My heart missed a beat, and my lungs froze. “What?” I managed to exhale.
“I’m sorry, but they’re just not in the system,” the woman clarified. “The NYPD was fully switching from paper to digital around that time, so they must have gotten lost in the transition. I really am sorry, Allie.” Her voice gentled. She knew who I was—Ron Fitzgerald’s daughter. My relation to the beloved mayor had no doubt expedited my request for the records about my mother’s death.
Records which no longer existed.
“Thank you,” I choked out before ending the call.
My head spun, and I couldn’t get enough oxygen in my heaving lungs. I buried my face in my hands, as though I could force back the tears that wet my lashes.
There was no proof that Mom had died in a fire. There was no proof that the fire had been an accident—the result of faulty wiring, as I’d always been told.
Daddy couldn’t be guilty of the heinous crimes Max had told me about. He just couldn’t.
But now it was impossible to prove otherwise. And it was impossible to identify the anonymous Russian informant who’d given my dad his big break in the Mafia case.
His Russian friends killed my mom in retribution. Max’s accusation knifed through my mind, and I clutched at my aching head.
The men who’d murdered his mom had stabbed Max and forced him to watch. They’d almost killed him too.
I gagged, but I had nothing in my stomach. My chest convulsed on a harsh sob as my entire world began to crumble.
“Allie?”
I jolted at Mike’s voice, far too close. I lifted my face from my hands and found him kneeling before me, his gray eyes regarding me with concern. He settled a comforting hand on my shoulder.
“What’s wrong?”
“N-nothing.” I dashed the tears from my cheeks and sucked in a breath, struggling for a normal tone. I was completely losing it, and I couldn’t fall apart at work.
Mike’s bushy brows drew together. “It’s not nothing.” He frowned when I was unable to gather enough breath for another response. “You’re not well. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. Go home. Get some rest. I don’t want to see you in this office until next Monday.”
“No!” I gasped, horrified that my boss was telling me I couldn’t come to do my job for the rest of the week. I’d messed up, and now I was being professionally punished for my lack of composure.
His jaw firmed. “Yes. This isn’t a reprimand, Allie. I’m worried about you.” He gave my shoulder a little squeeze. “Now, go home. Take some time for yourself, and don’t look at a single casefile. I’ll see you in a few days.”
“Okay,” I agreed thickly, unable to do anything but agree when he fixed me with that stern stare. I’d completely embarrassed myself, but I could barely worry about that; there wasn’t enough room in my head to think about anything but the fact that everything Max said about my dad might be true.
