Chapter 5 - THE CHILD IN ROOM 307The explosion at St. Catherine’s did not destroy the building.
It destroyed the lie that Salvatore still cared who got hurt.
By the time Dominic’s convoy reached the Lower East Side, flames were climbing from the rear entrance of the converted hospital shelter.
Fire engines blocked the street.
Women stood barefoot beneath emergency blankets.
Paramedics pushed stretchers through smoke.
Madeline opened her car door before the vehicle stopped.
Dominic caught her wrist.
“You’re injured.”
“Sarah is inside.”
“So are firefighters.”
“Her daughter—”
“I will find them.”
Madeline stared at him.
Hours earlier, she might have obeyed.
Now she pulled her wrist free.
“You don’t get to lock another door between me and someone I love.”
Dominic released her.
The words struck deeper than anger.
“Stay beside me.”
“No promises.”
She ran toward the building.
Dominic followed.
A fire captain blocked them.
“You can’t go inside.”
“My foundation operates this shelter,” Madeline said. “There are twelve residents, three staff members, and possibly one child.”
“We evacuated fourteen adults.”
“Sarah?”
“Last names?”
“Collins.”
The captain checked a tablet.
“No Sarah Collins.”
Madeline’s face tightened.
“Her daughter Emma?”
“No child listed.”
She turned toward the burning doors.
Dominic caught her.
“Madeline.”
“She’s still inside.”
The fire captain raised his voice.
“My crews are searching.”
A woman beneath a blanket suddenly stood.
“Mrs. Vitiello!”
Madeline hurried to her.
The woman was shaking badly.
“Where is Sarah?”
“She went back upstairs.”
“Why?”
“Emma was sleeping in the staff room.”
Madeline looked toward the building.
“Which floor?”
“Three.”
The fire captain shouted into his radio.
“Possible child, third floor, staff room!”
A firefighter answered through static.
“Third-floor east hall compromised.”
Madeline’s eyes filled.
Dominic saw it.
Then he saw something else.
Two men near an ambulance.
Not paramedics.
Wrong boots.
No hospital credentials.
One carried a medical bag too carefully.
Dominic’s hand moved beneath his jacket.
“Mateo.”
Mateo followed his gaze.
The men realized they had been noticed.
One ran.
The other drew a weapon.
Dominic pushed Madeline behind a fire engine as gunfire cracked through the street.
Civilians screamed.
Mateo fired.
The shooter fell.
The second man disappeared into an alley.
Dominic turned to Madeline.
“Are you hit?”
“No.”
“Stay here.”
“Dominic—”
“This is not punishment. This is gunfire.”
He ran after the second man with Mateo.
Madeline looked back at the burning shelter.
Then she heard it.
A faint scream from above.
“Mommy!”
Madeline lifted her head.
Third floor.
A small face appeared at a window through smoke.
Emma.
“Emma!”
The child slapped both hands against the glass.
A firefighter yelled from the street.
“We can’t access that hallway!”
The east stairwell was burning.
Madeline looked at the building beside the shelter.
A narrow brick apartment structure.
Fire escapes crossed the alley between them.
Close.
Very close.
She started running.
The fire captain shouted.
“Ma’am!”
She ignored him.
Inside the apartment building, she took the stairs despite the pain tearing through her ribs.
Second floor.
Third.
Her wound burned.
She reached a hallway window facing the shelter.
Across the alley, Emma was crying behind glass.
Ten feet.
Maybe twelve.
A metal fire escape ran along the shelter wall.
Madeline forced open the apartment window.
Cold smoke rushed inside.
“Emma!”
The girl looked toward her.
“Aunt Maddie!”
“Back away from the window!”
Madeline climbed onto the apartment fire escape.
The metal was slick with rain.
Below, firefighters began shouting.
She looked across the gap.
There was no bridge.
But an old maintenance plank leaned against the brick wall.
Madeline grabbed it.
Too short.
She extended it between the fire escape and the opposite railing.
It barely reached.
Her heart pounded.
Then a voice roared from below.
“MADELINE!”
Dominic had returned.
She looked down.
He stood in the alley, face lifted toward her.
“Do not move.”
“Emma is there.”
“I see her.”
“The stairs are blocked.”
“Fire crews are coming from the roof.”
“Smoke is filling the room.”
“Madeline!”
She stepped onto the plank.
Dominic’s entire body went rigid.
“No.”
She took another step.
The wood shifted.
“Madeline, I swear to God—”
She looked down at him.
“What are you going to do? Lock me outside?”
For one second, even in the terror, Mateo almost smiled.
Dominic did not.
Madeline reached the opposite railing.
She climbed over.
The window was locked.
Emma was coughing inside.
Madeline wrapped her hand in Dominic’s jacket sleeve and punched the glass.
Once.
Twice.
It broke.
She reached through and unlocked the frame.
Smoke poured out.
Emma threw herself into Madeline’s arms.
“Mommy won’t wake up!”
Madeline carried the child into the room.
Sarah lay near the door.
Unconscious.
Alive.
Madeline tried to lift her.
Pain shot through her wound.
She almost collapsed.
Then the room’s exterior door burst inward.
Dominic appeared through smoke wearing a firefighter’s spare respirator mask.
He crossed the room.
Madeline stared.
“How did you—”
“Roof access.”
He lifted Sarah over one shoulder.
“Take Emma.”
Madeline pulled the child close.
Dominic looked at her.
Even through smoke and alarms, the moment held.
Hours earlier he had refused to open a door for his wife.
Now he had walked through a burning building because she was behind one.
“Follow me.”
They reached the roof.
Firefighters helped them across to the adjoining building.
On the street, paramedics took Sarah.
Emma clung to Madeline until her mother regained consciousness.
Dominic stood several feet away.
He watched his wife kneeling beneath flashing emergency lights, holding a terrified child against her chest.
Her green dress was torn.
His black jacket hung around her shoulders.
There was dried blood on her side.
She looked exhausted.
Beautiful.
And impossibly far away.
Mateo approached.
“We caught the second shooter.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Talked?”
“Enough.”
Dominic’s gaze remained on Madeline.
“What did he say?”
“The explosion was a diversion.”
“For what?”
“Salvatore wanted hospital records.”
“Whose?”
“Antonio’s witnesses.”
Dominic turned.
“Did he get them?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Mateo’s expression shifted.
“Because the records were never here.”
Dominic frowned.
“Where are they?”
Mateo looked toward Madeline.
“She moved them.”
Madeline had heard.
She rose slowly.
“I moved them six days ago.”
Dominic stared at her.
“Where?”
“I won’t tell you.”
His eyes narrowed.
“Madeline.”
“No.”
“This is not the time.”
“It is exactly the time.”
He stepped closer.
“Those records can prove what Salvatore did.”
“And anyone who knows where they are becomes a target.”
“I can protect them.”
She looked at the burning building behind him.
“Can you?”
Dominic flinched.
Madeline hated that she had hurt him.
But she did not take it back.
A paramedic approached to rebandage her wound.
As he worked, Dominic’s phone rang.
Mateo answered his own simultaneously.
Across the street, three other Vitiello soldiers checked phones.
Something had happened.
Mateo looked at Dominic.
“Boss.”
“What?”
“Turn on the news.”
A firefighter nearby raised the volume on a television inside an ambulance.
A reporter appeared live from Brooklyn.
“—breaking developments tonight at Pier Fourteen, where authorities say multiple bodies have been discovered following what appears to have been an organized shooting.”
Dominic moved closer.
The camera showed police lights across shipping containers.
The reporter continued.
“Sources say at least eleven victims are believed to be connected to the Vitiello organization.”
Dominic’s face hardened.
Eleven men.
His men.
Men he had sent earlier to inspect the pier.
Then the reporter said the sentence Salvatore had designed for him to hear.
“Police sources have also confirmed that evidence recovered at the scene appears to implicate rival Brooklyn crime figure Lorenzo Castiglione.”
Lorenzo stood behind Dominic.
He laughed once.
“Predictable.”
Dominic ignored him.
The reporter touched an earpiece.
“We are now receiving another update.”
Her expression sharpened.
“A warrant has reportedly been issued for the arrest of Dominic Vitiello in connection with a federal racketeering investigation that officials say has been developing for several months.”
Madeline looked at Dominic.
“This is Salvatore.”
“Yes.”
“He wants you trapped.”
“Yes.”
“Either dead or arrested.”
“Yes.”
Sirens appeared at the end of the block.
Not fire engines.
Black federal SUVs.
Dominic looked at Mateo.
“How long?”
“Maybe thirty seconds.”
Lorenzo stepped forward.
“My vehicle.”
Dominic looked at him.
“You expect me to run with you?”
“I expect you to decide whether you want to discover the truth from outside a cell.”
Dominic glanced toward Madeline.
She was watching him carefully.
He made his decision.
“Get Sarah and Emma somewhere protected.”
Madeline shook her head.
“I’m coming.”
“No.”
Her eyes flashed.
Dominic stopped himself.
The old instinct.
The command.
The control.
He changed the sentence.
“I don’t want you in more danger.”
Madeline studied him.
“That is different.”
“Is it enough?”
“Not yet.”
Federal agents poured from vehicles.
“Dominic Vitiello!”
Mateo opened the SUV door.
Lorenzo climbed inside.
Dominic looked at Madeline.
She moved toward him.
Together, they entered.
The SUV shot into traffic.
Behind them, agents shouted.
Ahead, the city became a maze of lights and betrayal.
Then Lorenzo’s phone rang.
He listened.
His face changed.
“What?” Dominic asked.
Lorenzo lowered the phone.
“There’s something you need to know about the bodies at Pier Fourteen.”
Dominic waited.
Lorenzo looked directly at him.
“One of them is carrying Mateo Bianchi’s identification.”
Everyone in the SUV went silent.
Dominic turned toward Mateo.
Mateo looked just as stunned.
Lorenzo continued.
“Someone wants the police to believe Mateo died tonight.”
Madeline whispered, “Why?”
Mateo stared through the windshield.
Then he understood.
“Because if the world thinks I’m dead…”
May you like
He slowly turned toward Dominic.
“…Salvatore can use the other Mateo.”
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