Chapter 13 - THE NAME ON EVAN'S SKIN
The tattoo was small.
A series of numbers.
No names.
No words.
Just coordinates.
Arthur stared at it.
“Where did you get those?”
Evan looked at him.
“You knew.”
Arthur nodded.
“I knew your brother had something.”
“You never asked.”
“I was afraid of the answer.”
We took Evan to a safe apartment.
My mother was still missing.
Vale was gone.
The Costello organization was collapsing.
Arthur's phones wouldn't stop ringing.
One lieutenant after another was declaring independence.
Chicago was turning into a battlefield.
But the coordinates mattered more.
Arthur entered them into a map.
A cemetery appeared.
St. Michael's.
My father's grave.
I laughed bitterly.
“Of course.”
We went there before dawn.
Snow covered the graves.
My father's name was carved into a black stone.
Arthur stood beside me.
“There's something under it.”
We dug.
A metal cylinder appeared.
Inside was a single photograph and a letter.
The photograph showed my father, Arthur, Gabriel and Vale.
But there was someone else.
A younger man.
I stared.
My mother's brother.
Samuel.
Arthur took the photo.
“That's impossible.”
“Why?”
“Samuel died before Gabriel took control.”
My mother appeared behind us.
We turned.
She was alone.
Blood covered her sleeve.
“Samuel didn't die.”
She looked at the photograph.
“He was the one who betrayed Thomas.”
I shook my head.
“He was my uncle.”
“He worked for Vale.”
Arthur's face hardened.
“Then why did he help us?”
“Because he changed sides.”
I stared at her.
“Did my father know?”
“Yes.”
“Then why did he write that the traitor was someone I loved?”
My mother's eyes filled with tears.
“Because he meant me.”
Silence.
Arthur looked at her.
“What did you do?”
My mother whispered,
“I gave Vale your father's location.”
My blood went cold.
“Why?”
“Because they had Evan.”
“You traded Dad for him?”
“I was trying to save my children.”
Arthur looked away.
I felt tears burning my eyes.
My mother fell to her knees.
“I thought if I gave them Thomas, they would leave you alone.”
“They didn't.”
“No.”
She cried.
“They never intended to.”
Arthur found the final clue.
The photograph contained a reflection in the background.
A hospital corridor.
Room 17.
A figure standing near my father's door.
I zoomed in.
The figure was Arthur.
But not alone.
Standing beside him was a police officer.
Detective Julian Cross.
I knew that name.
Chicago's most celebrated detective.
The man who had solved dozens of mafia murders.
Arthur stared.
“Cross.”
I whispered,
“He worked for Gabriel.”
Arthur shook his head.
“No.”
He looked at the photograph.
“He worked for me.”
I turned.
“What?”
Arthur's voice was almost inaudible.
“Your father wasn't the only person I betrayed.”
I stepped away.
“You were there.”
“Yes.”
“You watched him die.”
“No.”
“What happened?”
Arthur's face broke.
“He asked me to leave.”
“Why?”
“Because he knew they were listening through the wall.”
I stared.
“Who?”
Arthur said,
“Cross.”
He took out his gun.
“He was the one who switched off the hospital cameras.”
My mother whispered,
“Then Cross killed Thomas.”
Arthur shook his head.
“No.”
He looked at the grave.
“Cross didn't kill him.”
He looked at me.
“Your father did.”
I froze.
“What?”
Arthur pointed to the letter.
“Read the last line.”
I picked it up.
My father's handwriting shook across the page.
I chose my death because my life would have killed my children.
Then the cemetery gates slammed shut.
Cars surrounded us.
Dozens of armed men stepped out.
At the front stood Detective Julian Cross.
He smiled.
“Arthur Costello.”
Then he looked at me.
“Norah Hayes.”
May you like
He raised a gun.
“Your father was right.”
