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My expression contorts, the subtle touch of grief finally piercing the façade I’ve maintained. “When I arrived in Lenora,” I begin, my voice tinged with a mixture of frustration and vulnerability, “I had nothing. My brother and I sought a clean slate after our parents passed. We were stuck in Yonkers, a world away from the city’s promise.” The bitterness of the memories surfaces as I lock eyes with Hayes, a debate raging within me on whether or not to restrain or release my emotions. Friday, I remind myself, is reserved for the therapist, but I find myself gifting them to Hayes. Chalk it up to stress. “If we stayed there…” My words trail off, my shrug communicating my unspoken reality.
“If you stayed there, you felt like you’d never get out,” he finishes for me.
“Yeah.” I rip off a piece of pretzel and run my finger across the cheese, licking it as I run through my past. “I packed up our Subaru with everything I could and just drove. Milo was only three. He didn’t need school. We had to stop a lot. I think after a while, I planned to head to Canada.”
“May I ask how your parents died?” Ever the agent. Death is like a moth to the flame for cops.
“You can ask,” I tease, but maybe I just need to explain why Sal meant a lot to me. “They, ah, died after attending a Christmas party. Hit black ice hidden under a layer of snow.” Before Agent Hayes can express pity or sympathy, I rush on. “A couple of years after traveling, we landed in Lenora, and Sal reminded me of my parents’ generosity. My parents had an open-door policy. They didn’t care about time. They showed up if someone needed them at two in the morning.”
“And Sal showed up for you,” he states, understanding rippling across his face. “I’m so sorry, Charlotte.”
I shrug, letting it roll away. “We stopped at The Tulip, and it was like Sal just knew we needed someone. Milo and I had stopped at countless diners, and he was the first to look at us and offer us something more than fries and a milkshake. He offered us a place to sleep by sending us to the shelter, and then he offered me a job.”
“So you stayed in Lenora.”
“We stayed,” I agree, but then because I need to know, I ask, “Who was Sal, and before you hesitate, lay it out for me. Don’t lie to me.”
“It’ll ruin the lie,” he says, telling me that the lie is the person I thought Sal was.
Doubt creeps in, casting shadows over my certainty. “My dad used to drill one thing into me,” I share, a contemplative edge to my voice. “Pay attention to actions, not words, and when someone stumbles, observe how they pick themselves up. Despite it all,” I murmur, grappling with my own convictions, “at heart, I saw a different side of Sal—a man capable of more.” I pause, having an internal struggle. “I choose to believe in that,” I declare softly, my gaze unwavering.
Agent Hayes nods once before setting his partially eaten pretzel aside. “Salvatore Bonanno was the son of a man who shared the same name. His father was born into the Bonanno crime family, one of the five of New York.”
“I’ve come to that realization,” I remark with a touch of dryness. “Initially, I resisted accepting it.”
“The family dealt mostly with fraud, some murder, and even racketeering. They supposedly disbanded the families.” He runs a thumb along his bottom lip.
“You don’t believe that?”
“The mafia is like a roach—they will survive an apocalypse. To the public and media, the families don’t exist, but to me, to the FBI, they do.” He chooses his words carefully, speaking slowly and keeping his eyes locked on me.
“That’s your domain, isn’t it? Crimes, mafia families?” I blink, my realization crystallizing. The existence of the mafia, I assumed, was a distant memory. Though city gangs still lurked, their menace seemed trivial in comparison to the specter of the mafia.
“They went underground,” Agent Hayes says carefully. “And I believe Salvatore Bonanno, your Sal, was undercover.”
I frown at him, my lips parting as I stare at Agent Hayes until he blurs completely. “The mafia isn’t real.”
“I have dead bodies that say otherwise,” he challenges me.
“I don’t.” I lick my denial away, my tongue brushing against the cut on my bottom lip. My fingers shake as I press them against that damn cut. I don’t know if I can deny him. Shock and bone-deep fear travels through me like cold water pouring over my head.
“You believe me now, don’t you?” Agent Hayes drops his feet and props his elbows on his thighs. “You know something, don’t you? Tell me.”
No. That I won’t do. “Why do you think Sal was undercover?”
“Tell me why that look of understanding crossed your face, and I’ll tell you why.” It’s a negotiation I’ll take.
Damn my curiosity. “The hitman. He didn’t want money, and a person who doesn’t shake while holding a gun to someone’s head has done it before.” It isn’t the whole truth, but it’s enough to hook him.
Agent Hayes leans back, lifting his leg. He drops his ankle onto his kneecap, and his arms spread across the back of my couch. “Genovese. They were and still are the most dangerous of the families. Cunning, ruthless, smart, and still alive today.” He waves a finger at me. “Over ten years ago, there was a disturbance in the family, and they broke apart right after their boss went to jail. Those members disappeared. Gone.”
I swallow, not really sure where this is going. “And Sal?”
“Should have changed his name,” Agent Hayes says, and I do not know what he’s saying. I must give him a look of confusion because he gives me that panty-melting smirk again. “They disappeared. We assumed some of them fled to Canada. See, the families always operated within lines that were mostly invisible to anyone else.”
“Except you.”
“Yes.” He smiles at me like I get it. I don’t. “Passports. They left paper trails, even if it was to throw someone else off, but this little section of the family? No trace until I hear a Salvatore died over a police scanner with a matching description of one missing person, Salvatore Bonanno.”
