He smirked. “I wonder what you’d make of me. Hey, what do you say? You could be our analyst, like in that movie with Robert De Niro and Billy Crystal.” Once again, he gave that too-loud laugh again that made me start. “What about it, Special Agent? I could lie down on your couch and tell you all about my messed-up childhood.”
“I’m not that kind of psychologist. I only consult with law enforcement agencies.” Every time you told someone you majored in psych, they wanted to tell you their deepest, darkest secrets—or they never wanted to talk to you again. I was pretty sure which type Finch D’Amato was, and I was also pretty sure I did not want to hear his deepest, darkest secrets, not for love nor money.
I saw with relief that Angelo and Luca had turned around to start walking back. But Finch wasn’t finished.
“That’s not true anymore, though, is it?” he asked. “They kicked you off the task force. You’re the one they think did it.” He looked me head to toe. I had several inches on him but he made me feel knee-high in that moment. “Did you do it, Special Agent? Did you kill all those poor innocent souls wandering through Central Park?”
“Of course not,” I snapped, pushed beyond reasonable measure. But I raised my voice too much, and Angelo glanced over at me with a frown. “Someone set me up,” I said, more quietly.
“We can make that kind of thing go away,” Finch said, just as quietly. “Why should you take the fall? You and me, we could come to some arrangement. You slip me a few prescriptions for uppers and downers, and I have a word with my husband.”
“Angelo and I are going to figure it out,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “And I’m not registered to provide pharmaceutical prescriptions. Besides, from what I hear, you’re sober these days. No drugs, right? People put it down to your husband’s influence on you.”
He gave a sly smile. “You seem to know everything about me, Special Agent.” Then he shrugged. “That was just a test. Luca had a bet with me that you’d bend the rules for self-interest. I must admit, I was curious about how important your reputation was to you. I guess the answer is: not much, since we really could fix it for you if you let us.” That stung, and I was going to retort, but he kept talking before I could. “But do keep in mind, won’t you, that I make a much nicer friend than I do an enemy.”
At this point, Luca and Angelo returned. Neither seemed like they were gearing up to shoot me, and Angelo even gave me a very quick smile in between quiet words with his Boss. Finch, unfortunately, seemed to notice it, too. “Oh,” he said softly. “Is that how it is?”
“We’re working the case together.”
“Uh-huh.”
“We’re… I’ve been helping.”
“You’ve been getting yourself shot at by Colin O’Sullivan, from what I hear, but I guess that might be helpful somehow. Maybe Angelo can explain it to me later when all this is over. Maybe we’ll have you two around for dinner, Baxter Flynn, and you can explain it yourself.”
One thing I was sure of, Finch D’Amato was definitely the craziest of the Morellis. And that was my professional diagnosis.
* * *
I waiteduntil we were five minutes’ drive away from the warehouse—my blindfold safely back on—before I said anything. I wasn’t very articulate when I did. “Holy shit.” I sucked in a breath and said it again: “Holy fuckingshit. I just met the Morelli Don. And walked away alive.Holy shit.” I started chuckling, a nervous response, but it felt so good to get the tension out that I kept laughing until I was howling, crying, gasping for air. It took a while to calm down, and Angelo said nothing the whole time. “Fuck me,” I said at last, reverentially.
“You done?” Angelo asked, but he sounded amused.
“Sorry,” I said, though I wasn’t. “But you gotta understand, that isnota scenario I ever pictured.”
“Me either,” he deadpanned, and my laughter threatened to well up again.
I blew out another slow breath. “He’s a scary guy even when he’s not really saying anything.”
“He is, isn’t he?” Angelo said fondly. Then his voice changed as he continued, “I bought us some time, but he’s not happy with me.”
That killed my good mood then and there. “How come?”
“Because you’re a federal agent,” he said, as though speaking to a child.
Was I, though? I’d come so far from my moral center that I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever truly been the man I thought I was. Not knowing myself or my motives or where I was headed—it was an odd sensation. I’d always thought my superpower was absolute honesty with myself. Not so much, it turned out.
I was irritated with myself and uncertain, so naturally, I projected. “Aren’t you tired of playing second fiddle to someone half your age?” I asked.
Angelo gave a chuckle of his own. “How old do you think I am, kid?”
But I wasn’t going to let him laugh it off. “I mean, you’reAngelo Messina. You’re a fucking legend. But you’re still second-best as far as the Morellis are concerned.”
He was quiet for a long time before he said softly, “You misunderstand my relationship with the Boss.”
“Do I, though? Or is ityouwho misunderstands? Tino Morelli should’ve named you his successor years ago. Luca D’Amato just came out of nowhere, from soldier to Boss in a matter of months. How’d that happen, huh? Was he fucking Tino?”
“Flynn,” Angelo said, “I’d advise you to shut up.” The car was accelerating.
