Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“What about the restaurant you were staking out?” Mr. Harlan asks.
“I’m going through some of the photos that Mario took,” I respond.
“Did you find anything yet?” Harlan wonders.
“I identified two individuals with criminal histories,” I confirm.
“That’s good,” he says. “So, what now?”
“Unfortunately, those two individuals aren’t related, as far as I can tell,” I admit.
“But they were both at the restaurant?” Harlan asks.
“That’s right,” I explain. “But I’ll need some more time to do more research.”
“What about the family connections?” Mr. Harlan continues. He knows I’ve been researching the Corello family and the other potential crime families in the area.
“I’ve developed something like a family tree,” I say, flipping to the right page. “It’s nothing official, but I’m mapping out some relationships in the Corello household.”
“And?” he prompts.
“And I’m spending a good deal of time with one of the family members,” I say.
Harlan looks impressed.
“Frankie,” I go on. “Francisco Corello’s son. I’ve developed a sort of friendship with him.”
“Corello's only son, correct?” Harlan clarifies.
“That’s right,” I reply. “Through him, I learned Francisco’s second wife is pregnant.”
“What are your plans going forward?” Harlan asks. “How soon can I expect a finished article?”
I hold my breath, wishing for an easy way to answer that question. The fact is that I don’t know. I don’t want to tell my boss about my ulterior motive. He knows Danny died, and he understands I suspect it was a mafia hit. But he doesn’t know that I’ve narrowed in on the Corellos as the culprits, or that I’m simultaneously trying to collect information for an official investigation. Those two things would impede my job as a journalist and might influence any decisions I make in the field. It’s a big red flag when someone is too close to the story.
“I need a little more time,” I admit.
“How much more time?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I respond.
He doesn’t look pleased. I feel my window of opportunity shrinking. If I lose this assignment, then I’m on my own. I won’t have access to all the resources at the paper, which will make finding my brother’s killer that much more difficult.
“What if I did a story about mafia children?” I suggest. “I could focus on the new baby and how he or she affects life inside the family.”
Mr. Harlan shakes his head. “That would take way too long. You’re talking about a graduate level thesis project, not a newspaper article.”
I open my mouth to object. I think it’s a pretty interesting topic, one that readers of the paper would be sure to enjoy. But Mr. Harlan is right about one thing; it would take a lot of time to follow the new baby through childhood. I might get some amazing data that would revolutionize our criminal justice system, but I wouldn’t be able to deliver it soon.
“You’re doing a great job,” Mr. Harlan says, surprising me out of my funk. “Just keep working with the family member you’re talking to. See if you can find out anything more about the customers at the restaurant. And try to have something to show me next week.”
“Yes, sir,” I respond, standing up.
He’s given me some more room to pursue my cause, but the deadline of a week from now is very close. I decide I need to spend some time thinking about how I can turn what I already know into a well-rounded story. I can’t deliver the smoking gun yet, but there may be enough information to write a decent article.
I return to my desk and the nearly blank Word document that’s waiting for me. There are just three short sentences about Frankie’s panic attack. I delete them all and go back to my notes to start over.
I wonder what Frankie will say when he sees my byline in the paper. He’ll know I betrayed him then, and all my secrets will be out in the open. I wonder if he can ever forgive me for not being honest. I want to take the entire family down, but my heart aches knowing that I’ll hurt Frankie in the process.
It can’t be helped. This is my job. I need to focus on Danny and do what is best for his memory. Nothing else matters, including my relationship with Frankie. In another lifetime, maybe we could have been happy together, but not in this one. Not in the same world where Frankie’s father is directly responsible for my brother’s death. I square my shoulders and type.
CHAPTER 17
FRANKIE
If I thought what Uncle Gio did every day was exhausting, I had no idea. Following Dante, one of my father’s soldiers, is even more grueling. We go into basements to meet with gangs of thugs. I even see a beatdown, which makes my stomach turn.
I have to stand there while Dante pounds his fist in some poor gambler’s face, proving to him that being late on his payments isn’t an option. When the guy is on the ground, Dante gets up. He wipes his hand off on his own shirt, smearing blood across the fabric.