She clears her throat. “When those index cards get here—your mamma’s recipes—pick one. We’ll make it. You can tell me about your mom, and I’ll tell you about mine.”
My throat tightens. “Almond cookies,” I say hoarsely. “Those were my favorite.”
Caterina’s mouth softens. “Then almond cookies it is.” She taps the doorframe twice. “Text me when the box gets here.”
“I will. Thank you.” I swallow.
She nods, hesitates, then walks out.
I sit very still after she’s gone. I stare at the little boxes I drew, the words inside them, until they blur.
The first tear slips before I can stop it. Then another. And then it’s just… open floodgates. I fold forward, palms over my eyes, shoulders shaking. It’s ugly and wet and absolutely unstoppable.
Damn these hormones. Damn all of it.
I cry for the job, for the picture of my life that just shattered, for two women who left a hole in this house, for my mother’s recipes I’m scared won’t make it here, for a baby who didn’t ask for any of this and is getting all of it anyway.
Eventually, the wave passes. I sniff, drag the heel of my hand under my eyes, and breathe until the hiccups go away. I tear a page from the notebook and blot my face because I don’t havetissues. With a shaky hand, I add them to the list, plus a trash can.
Then, in small print, I add: call Dad. Because I realize it’s been weeks since I’ve spoken to him.
I sit up straighter, close the notebook, and let myself be done crying for now. There are things to be done.
Chapter Thirty Seven
Luca
I’m at the desk, the house quiet in that particular way it gets when she isn’t in it.
Elena is out with Caterina—lunch, a couple of stores, two cars, and four men on them the whole time. I’ve checked the live pings twice and finally made myself stop.
Antonio steps in without knocking, shuts the door with his heel. His face is all business.
“What is it?” I ask.
“We traced the source of the hit,” he says. “It came from inside the U.S. Attorney’s office.”
Ice runs through me. “Who?”
“Assistant U.S. Attorney named Noah Akers,” Antonio says. “Mid-level. Not on your case team officially, but he’s had access to the shared case drive, comms, and the internal ethics channel. He used the comms liaison’s webform token to submit the ‘anonymous tip’ to Hart. I’ve got the server logs and the header trail. It’s him.”
I stand. “How certain?”
“Ninety-nine,” he says. “We got workstation ID, timestamp from his personal phone on a coffee shop Wi-Fi three blocks from the courthouse.”
I shove out of my chair as fire roars through me. Someone Elena works with put a hit on her?
“And Russo?” I snap.
“Akers hired Russo, and they were all too happy to do it. Luca,” Antonio starts.
“What?” I bark.
“There’re more messages…” He looks worried. “Luca, there’s a second hit on the way.”
At his words, I whip out my phone and rush out of the room.
Antonio follows. “Where’s Elena now? Don’t tell me she isn’t here.”
