Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Joaquin
Can’t we have just one nice thing?
I by no means thought this shit was over just because it was quiet for a week. But I hoped against hope that we could make it through a dinner out with Tre’s parents. Two syndicate men at the table, and they still went after her.
The hit-and-run.
The car bomb and chase.
Poison.
At this point, there’s no questioning that Tre’s the target.
Nobody knows why. The most obvious culprit would be Don Francesco Toretta since Tre hasn’t come back with any actionable intel.
But that’s too obvious. Occam’s razor doesn’t apply to our world.
The most obvious and simplest explanation is almost never the right one.
It’s why the rivalries last generations.
Kathleen rode in the ambulance with Tre while I followed in the SUV we came in.
It nearly killed me, and Tre cried when I refused to get in.
Kathleen knows Tre’s medical history, and I don’t.
I didn’t know she had any allergies. It’s a brutal reminder that we still don’t know each other that well despite being inseparable and having a baby on the way.
We’re having a lengthy conversation about any and all illnesses, injuries, or surgeries when Tre comes home. I’m certain it’ll take far longer for me to recount my ailments than it will her.
Just like the last time Kathleen was at the hospital with us, she’s on one side of Tre, and I’m on the other. We’re both holding her hands. Tre looks absolutely wrecked. They pumped her stomach since we didn’t know what was in those little rice balls. Watching her go through that nearly broke me.
They have her hooked up to the fetal monitor, and we’ve both snapped at people to talk quieter so we can hear the machine. We’re desperate for the reassurance that our baby is all right. No one’s making any promises, so we’re clinging to the rhythmic sound as a sign that no news is good news.
Whoever’s doing this has made their last mistake.
I no longer hold any reservations about unleashing the darkest corners of my already corroded soul. Fear and rage are a dangerous combination in any wild animal.
“How’re you feeling, chiquita?”
It sounds like the most banal question, but I don’t want a cliché answer. I want to know if a doctor needs to examine her again. She’s still so fucking pale despite going through three bags of IV fluid.
“Like death warmed over, but not in need of more help. Just time.”
I assess her for a moment before bringing the back of her hand to my lips. If money bought everything, I’d pay for a doctor to stand in here just in case.
“Quino?”
Finally!
I texted Tía Margherita on the way to the hospital. She had to wait until her shift ended because Labor and Delivery is three floors above us. She’s still in her scrubs and lab coat.
“Tía.”
I rise and move my chair out of the way. That’s as much attention as I get from her. She greets Kathleen but focuses on Tre.
“I know you’re miserable, cari?o. Did they say how much longer they want you here?”
“No.” Tre’s voice is raspy after having a tube down her throat.
“Let me see what I can find out.”
She uses her badge to log into the computer on a stand that’s pushed off to the side.
I observe my aunt, and I can tell she’s visually examining Tre as she types.
When she’s satisfied with whatever she’s determined, she looks at the screen.
I’m uncertain whether she’ll have access to patient files that aren’t from her department.
I don’t know how it works, so I’m even more anxious than I was. I might need a Xanax.
“What do you know so far?”
I don’t like how my tía’s hedging. She saw something concerning. I look at Kathleen to see if she wants to answer for Tre, so she doesn’t have to strain her throat. But she defers to me since it’s my family member here to help.
“Nothing beyond they were sending a sample of Tre’s stomach contents to the lab.”
Tía Margherita glances at the screen again. “That was two and a half hours ago. Has anyone been in to check on you?”
She directs the question at Tre. None of us want to talk about her as though she isn’t here or is too feeble to understand. Tre nods, so I explain more.
“Yes. Every half an hour or so a nurse stops by to check Tre’s vitals and ask how she’s doing.”
“Have you slept?”
Tre loosens her hand, and I let go. She holds up her index finger and thumb to sign a little.
She dozed, but it wasn’t restful. She shifted in her sleep a lot.
Every time made me think about what they found when they undressed her.
Kathleen and I waited outside the curtains.
I can only imagine what they thought when they found the butt plug.
I’m certain Tre was humiliated—if she was with it enough to know what was happening—and that was the exact thing I promised her I wouldn’t let happen.
I’ve also promised not to let anyone keep harming her, and I’ve failed monumentally.
I don’t want to lock her away and refuse to let her leave the house.
She’s had some uneventful outings in Boston and NYC.
It’s tempting to think shit only goes wrong when I’m with her, but I’ve taken her out without shit going wrong.
It’s so fucking unpredictable on purpose.
“The toxicology report is in.”
I’d much rather hear this from my tía than a stranger.
I told the paramedic to bring Tre here because it’s where my tía works.
She splits her time between the private practice clinic and OBGYN at the hospital.
I knew she was on call, which would mean it would actually take her longer to visit us than if she’d been at home.
But with something like this, I’d rather get the information and unravel it without a stranger wanting to know why it happened. We’ll eventually have to answer that question with her doctor, but not right now.
“There are trace amounts of coriander, but clearly more than enough to cause a reaction. There’s an alarming amount of thallium sulfate. In humans, this is a slow-acting toxin. It can take five to seven days to be deadly. A person can start to have gastro discomfort within thirty minutes.”
Tre nods and does her best to whisper. “I felt sick almost immediately but thought I was just too hungry and ate too fast.”
“Whoever did this wanted the coriander to be fatal, but they had a contingency in case you didn’t have a reaction or used an EpiPen in time.
It likely would’ve presented as the stomach flu.
Even if you threw up, it would’ve already been in your system.
Getting here as fast as you did and insisting they pump your stomach saved you. ”
Thallium sulfate used to be common in rodenticides and insecticides.
I’m already plenty familiar with the shit.
I know what it does and how little it takes to kill someone.
Frank and I found the culprit—a sous chef that’d worked for Mikey for years.
Mikey’d wanted to fire him for ages because he was a constant fuck-up.
He knew the guy had gambling debts to Salvatore, except he has three kids under twelve and a wife who’d been injured in a car accident and was on permanent disability.
Frank stayed behind to deal with the guy.
We haven’t heard anything from Tre’s dad, so no news is good news.
The fucker’s likely shuffling off his mortal coil—excruciatingly slowly—right now.
Frank wasn’t capo dei capi merely because he’s the don’s brother.
He earned that rank before Tommaso even assumed the role. He’ll make the guy talk.
“What do we do now, Tía? What about the baby?”
“They already gave you Prussian blue, so it should have countered the toxin. Luckily, you got here within an hour of ingesting it. It was getting close, but taking it less than forty-five minutes may work in your favor.”
It was. We finished our appetizers five minutes before the main course came out.
It was about fifteen minutes before the ambulance arrived.
Tre swears it was only two or three, which is a testament to how out of it she was.
Then we hit traffic. Queens traffic might not be as notorious as Manhattan’s, but it can be gridlock.
Blessedly, with lights and sirens, it only took another twenty minutes to get here.
Lucky for us, the closest hospital was this one. Tía Margherita told me she’d call down to the ER and tell them her niece was coming in for potential poisoning. She has some pull here because the team was waiting and ready to pump Tre’s stomach before they could lock the gurney in place.
“Do they need to do anything else?”
This is when my tía pauses. My heart sinks. Tre’s hand tightens around mine. Everyone knows what I was really asking.
“They may give you another dose or two of Prussian blue. Thallium is quickly absorbed into the bloodstream, which means it can pass through the placenta. That exposure can lead to miscarriage, premature birth, low birth weight, and congenital defects. It’s too early in your pregnancy to know about the last three.
Tricia, there is a good likelihood you will lose this pregnancy. ”
Tía Margherita says it as gently as she can, but it’s still the most devastating thing I’ve ever heard.
I watch Tre, and she watches me. Tears stream down both of our faces.
Tre’s soon turn to sobs, but I’m still too stunned to make a sound.
I knew the potential outcomes, but I refused to consider them until I heard them out loud.
Tía Margherita leans down and hugs me as best she can since I’m leaning toward Tre.
Kathleen’s doing the same for Tre. My girlfriend and I remain focused on each other.
Eventually, Kathleen lets go, and so does Tía.
I rise, and Tía slips her arms beneath me to lower the bed rail. She gets it without me saying a word.