Chapter 33
Chapter Thirty Three
Luca
I leave Elena satisfied and asleep and head downstairs. The house is quiet. In the office, Roberto and Antonio are already at the table. Nico stands by the window, phone in his hand, eyes on the hedges. Giovanni has a laptop open, cables snaking to a small black box we use when I want answers fast.
“Where’s Vito?” I ask, taking the seat at the head.
Nico doesn’t look away from the glass. “Confirming some information with a witness.”
Roberto’s mouth pulls, the closest he comes to a frown. We all know what it means when Vito’s doing the interrogations.
“Report,” I say.
Nico pockets his phone and moves to the table. “Bianchi’s clean. We pulled access logs, door swipes, camera timestamps—she never touched Elena’s chart outside the exam room, and she didn’t speak to anyone after. Staff phones and personal email headers look clean so far.”
“So who?” I ask.
“We think a PA,” Nico says. “Not on Elena’s chart. On another patient. She was in the hall when you came through the service corridor. We think she recognized you and put two and two together.”
“I need more than ‘think.’ Tell me more.”
“Name is Savino. Mid-twenties. Brother with small-time gambling markers.”
“So, you think that she told the brother, and he sold the info,” I say.
“That’s what Vito’s confirming with the brother now,” Nico says evenly.
I nod. “Good. Let me know when you do.”
Giovanni turns the laptop so I can see. “On the SUV: Tahoe, graphite. Partial we pulled matches six registered within fifty miles. Two are clean. One is in a body shop in Newark after a ‘parking mishap’, fifteen minutes after the garage hit. We’re en route to verify.”
“Driver?”
“Working through the shop’s intake. Cash job, fake name,” Giovanni says. “We’ll peel it.”
“Peel fast,” I say.
I look to Roberto. “Elena needs an attorney.”
He lifts a brow. “Isn’t she one?”
“She was fired this morning.” The room stills a fraction. “Some office of responsibility and a board next. They received another tip last night.”
Roberto whistles once, humorless. “The Office of Professional Responsibility,” he says.
“That’s the one,” I confirm.
“Then we move now.” He flips the small notebook he carries.
“Two options. Marta Levin—ex-OPR, runs a boutique shop now, eats administrative boards for breakfast. Or Chang, Durning you’ll get three lawyers and a small army of paralegals.
Levin is sharper on strategy, CDV has scale. ”
“Both. Get them working together,” I say.
“Getting her job back might not be realistic, Luca,” Roberto says. “We have to focus on the license.”
“Do it,” I say.
“I’ll start now,” he says and walks out.
I turn back to the rest. “The tip her boss received was more detailed than the last. They said she was carrying my baby. I need to know who knows and how. Now.”
Giovanni is already typing. “We’re tracing the tip to Hart.
Could’ve come by phone, anonymous web form, or dead-drop email.
I’ve got pull with two people in his IT who will tell me what the inbound looked like.
IP, carrier, attachment metadata. If it was paper, we’ll have to find another way, but there’s no way they got two tips in that quickly by mail. ”
“Do it,” I say. “If the photos came with it, I want the chain: who took them, who handed them off.”
Nico taps the garage stills. “Angle and lens say long glass. Could be the same freelancer who works Russo weddings on weekends. I’ve got three names; I’ll have faces by dinner.”
“Make sure he can’t find his camera tomorrow,” I say. “Antonio, the body shop.”
Antonio nods. “I’ll sit with the owner. We’ll leave with a work order, the driver’s face, and a name that isn’t ‘John Smith.’”
“And Caterina?” I ask.
“She’s on the brother,” Nico says. “Savino’s markers are spread across two rooms, and a bookie tied to Russo’s nephew. Cat’s pulling bank stubs, Venmo junk, burner top-ups. If there was a payoff for the rumor, she’ll see the bump.”
My phone buzzes. Vito.
I put him on speaker. “Talk.”
“He cracked,” he says.
“The brother?” I ask.
“Yeah, the PA is Paola Savino. Apparently, she recognized you in the corridor, told her brother Dino.”
“Dino?” I ask, dry.
“Yup. Dino sold it to a guy called Nello, who plays cards at one of Russo’s joints. Nello passed it to Russo’s people with a bonus for ‘the prosecutor is pregnant.”
“How much?” I ask.
“Five grand to Dino, two to Nello. Cash. Dino paid a chunk for his book right after.”
“The driver?” Giovanni asks.
“They don’t know. The line ends at Nello,” Vito says.
“Make sure of that,” I say coldly.
I can almost hear his smile over the phone. “My pleasure.”
The line dies.
Roberto steps back in, closing it behind him.
“Levin’s in,” he says. “Conflict check clear. She’ll want to talk to Elena by end of day and file an emergency response to OPR by morning: anonymous smear, immediate disclosure to the office today, pregnancy unrelated to the charged conduct, no case taint.
She wants to quarantine Elena’s devices and image them—standard defensive posture. ”
“She gets whatever she needs,” I say. “You’ll be there when they talk, Roberto.”
Roberto adds, “If OPR calls Elena directly, she says nothing without counsel. Not a word. She knows this, but she might be a bit off right now. Remind her.”
“Done,” I say.
“I’ll go try CDV again and be back later, all right?” He closes his notebook and stands, clapping me on the shoulder on the way out.
Antonio rises with him. “I’ll sit on Russo’s channels and keep our name out of their mouths.”
“I’ll check up on the garage,” Giovanni says and follows them both out.
Nico doesn’t move, eyes on the door Giovanni walked through, then back to me. “She’s asleep?”
“For now,” I say.
“You want someone at the hall?” he asks.
“Not the hall,” I tell him. “She needs some quiet.” I glance at the ceiling, as if I can see through it to Elena sleeping. “But make sure it’s airtight, huh?”
Nico nods once but doesn’t leave yet.
“You think Savino was the first leak?”
“Doesn’t matter, does it?” I say. “Now that it’s out, there will be more waiting to cash in.”
He accepts that, then adds, “We’ll keep the PA alive. In rumor. If Russo thinks his line is blown, he’ll start another. I want to see where he goes next.”
“Good,” I say. “Let him think he’s clever.”
Nico turns for the door. I stop him with his name.
He looks back.
“Thank you,” I say. “In the garage. With her.” I don’t say the rest—that if he’d been ten seconds later, I’d be planning a funeral and a war in the same breath.
He just dips his chin and slips out.