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“And by everything, you mean where the missing Genovese daughter hid,” I deduce.
Desmond nods in confirmation. “Yes, his father planned to fly to New York, but it’s what happened after that sealed Sal’s fate,” he murmurs, the early morning stillness amplifying the weight of his words.
My body tingles with anticipation as I stand in the middle of the diner, on the precipice of a revelation that could change everything. “What?” I ask, my curiosity driving my inquiry.
“He called my grandfather,” Desmond says, his voice dripping with disdain. “He was prepared to tell him exactly where his daughter had been hiding all these years. I couldn’t allow that to happen.”
A pit forms in my stomach as I connect the dots. “When I called the cops…”
“Matthew Hayes picked up the call, but he wasn’t the only one listening,” Desmond confirms.
“Your grandfather?” I guess, my voice trembling with realization.
“Yes,” he acknowledges. “Every scout my grandfather and Sal’s father sent met the same fate.”
I recall the man in my basement and the chaos that followed. “The man in my basement…”
“You, Charlotte, unknowingly blew the lid off,” he states. However, his tone leaves me uncertain about his feelings toward the situation. “While my grandfather only guesses at our location, Sal Senior knows the location.”
I frown, puzzled. “How can your grandfather only guess?”
Desmond hesitates, his gaze locked onto mine. There’s a moment of uncertainty in his eyes, but he finally breaks his silence. “My grandfather is dying. His mind isn’t what it once was. His deathbed wish is to see his daughter one last time. It’s my mother’s wish to never see him again.”
I read between the lines, understanding the depth of Desmond’s loyalty to his mother. “You honor your mom,” I observe quietly, realizing the sacrifices he’s made to protect her and the secrets they hold.
“Not only that, but no one will defy my grandfather. They are waiting until his death to have another take his place,” Desmond asserts, his tone carrying a sense of calculated determination. “We have time, and I have someone steering him to look the other way, so to speak.”
My mind races with the implications of Desmond’s words, the intricate web of power and secrecy surrounding his family. Realizing that the man in my basement had been one of Sal’s men sends a shiver up my spine. I instinctively hug myself, trying to chase away the unsettling feeling.
“Am I safe?” I finally voice my fears, the weight of reality crashing down on me.
Desmond remains silent for a moment, drawing out the tension as he contemplates his response. “Sal’s men suspect we killed his son,” he eventually replies, his voice measured. “You were the last person with him. You are safe where you are, Charlotte, until I can’t protect you.”
My frustration and fear surge, and I step toward him, demanding clarity. “What the hell does that mean, Desmond?”
Tatum’s sleepy yawn pierces the silence, and I turn to see her emerging from the shadows. “About time you filled her in,” Tatum mumbles sleepily as she shuffles over to the coffeemaker to pour herself a cup. My jaw nearly drops to the floor at her words. She cracks her head and wrinkles her face up.
“You’ve been listening this whole time?” I mutter.
Tatum, unruffled, pours herself a cup of coffee. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
Desmond’s voice turns ice cold as he addresses Tatum’s involvement. “Don’t think I’m unaware of what you, Harlow, and Autumn orchestrated.”
Tatum sips her black coffee nonchalantly, her demeanor unapologetic.
“You guys forced me to take that shift,” I grumble. “No wonder you were fine with watching Milo.”
Tatum sips her black coffee and shrugs. “I decided to keep you.”
I can’t help but interject, exasperated. “You can’t just keep a person, Tate!” The unfolding revelations and tangled relationships between these people only add to my growing sense of unease.
“Baptism by fire. Either you lost your shit at the murder and ran, or you—” She tilts her head to the side. “Do what you did.”
“It was a risk you shouldn’t have taken,” Desmond scolds Tate.
“Eh, you knew this whole fifteen-minute mafia town would eventually bite you in the ass.” There’s an undercurrent of worry in her words that she shrugs off completely. “And look, you got the girl out of it.”
“Wait, he didn’t get the girl.” My mind swirls with information that I can’t grasp.
