Chapter 10 - The Pink NotebookThe pink notebook had unicorn stickers on the front.
That was the detail that ruined everyone.
Not the names.
Not the routes.
Not the coded payments.
The stickers.
A child’s notebook should have spelling words. Hearts. Horses. A crooked drawing of a family under a yellow sun.
This one held a map of monsters.
Price spread photocopied pages across a conference table at the precinct just after dawn. We were not supposed to be in the same room while evidence was processed. He broke rules carefully. I recognized the skill.
Tony stood behind me. Adriana sat across from us because Price wanted a medical witness for Dr. Cross’s notes. Tomas and Rosa had refused to leave Elena, and no one asked them to.
Isabella Ricci, now in protective custody, had written everything.
Names of Harlan’s men.
Police contacts.
Hospital staff.
Transport dates.
Warehouses.
Payments.
And in the oldest section, written years earlier in a different pen, were entries about Carlo and Matteo.
Price pointed to one page.
M.D. discovered Marco siphoning route money. Threatened exposure. Harlan says use C. as bait. M. refuses.
My brother.
Matteo DeLuca.
He had refused.
I read the line until the letters blurred.
Another page.
C. dead. M.D. has recording. Marco terrified. Harlan arranging accident before Sunday dinner.
Sunday dinner.
Matteo had died on a Sunday.
He had been driving to my house.
Adriana made a sound across the table, small and wounded.
I could not look at her.
Not yet.
Price turned a page. “There’s more.”
“I see it.”
“No. Recent.”
The page was dated two weeks before Elena’s accident.
Marco wants out. Harlan says no one leaves with debt unpaid. D.D. must be compromised or removed. Use child case if necessary. Make him look responsible.
D.D.
Dominic DeLuca.
Me.
Tony muttered a curse.
Price looked at me. “Harlan planned to frame you for Elena’s death.”
“He used Tomas’s debt.”
“Yes. A dead child connected to a restaurant owner who owed you money. Your dog at the funeral. Your underboss present. Public grief. Rumors would do the rest.”
Tony said, “And if Bruno hadn’t heard her?”
Price’s silence answered.
If Bruno had walked away, Elena would have been buried. Harlan would leak Marco’s connection to me. Police would raid my world. My enemies would move. My allies would scatter. The public would see only one story.
Mafia boss kills debtor’s daughter.
Simple stories are the most dangerous because people repeat them without chewing.
Adriana touched the page with Matteo’s initials.
“Did Matteo know about the children?”
Price checked another page.
“Looks like he knew Harlan was moving people, but maybe not the full scope. He recorded Marco discussing payments. The recording may still exist.”
I looked at Tony.
“My brother’s storage unit.”
Tony nodded. “Still paid?”
“Yes.”
After Matteo died, I had kept paying for his storage unit because I could not bear to empty it. Grief makes museums out of locked doors.
Now that locked door might hold his voice.
Price said, “We need a warrant.”
I gave him the address.
He stared. “You’re just handing it over?”
“My brother tried to expose this legally once. Maybe I should let him finish.”
No one spoke for a moment.
Then an officer entered quickly. “Detective Price?”
Price turned.
“We found Dr. Cross’s car near the river. Empty. Blood on the driver seat.”
Adriana stiffened.
“Body?” Price asked.
“No.”
“Harlan has him,” I said.
Price nodded grimly. “Or had him.”
My phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Price saw my face. “Speaker.”
I answered.
For three seconds, there was only wind.
Then Victor Harlan’s voice.
“Dominic. You look tired.”
Price signaled for tracing.
I stayed silent.
Harlan continued, “By now you have Isabella’s little diary. Sentimental woman. Useful body. Dangerous conscience.”
“Where is Cross?”
“Doctor Cross is reconsidering his professional ethics.”
“You mean he’s dead.”
“Not yet.”
Adriana’s hands tightened on the table.
Harlan heard the silence and laughed softly. “Is Dr. Vale with you? How poetic. Matteo’s widow who never became a widow.”
Adriana went white.
My voice lowered. “Speak carefully.”
“Or what? You’ll follow rules now? Detective Price has you on a leash, and your dog is busy babysitting a miracle.”
Price leaned close and whispered, “Keep him talking.”
I did.
“You failed, Victor.”
“No. I adapted. Elena woke. The warehouse fell. Isabella cried. Marco folded. All unfortunate. But none fatal.”
“You sound nervous.”
He laughed again, but this time there was metal in it.
“I sound free.”
“Not for long.”
“Freedom is not location, Dominic. It is leverage.”
The line crackled.
Then another voice came on.
A man crying.
“Please,” Dr. Cross begged. “Please, I’ll testify. I’ll say everything. Just don’t let him—”
The voice cut off.
Harlan returned.
“Bring me the original notebook and Matteo’s recording if you find it. In exchange, I send Cross back breathing.”
Price shook his head firmly.
I said, “Where?”
“Alley behind La Estrella. Noon.”
“You think I’m stupid?”
“I think you’re sentimental today.”
He was not wrong.
“Come alone,” Harlan said. “No police. No Tony. No loyal soldiers pretending not to be soldiers. And Dominic?”
“Yes?”
“If Bruno is there, I shoot the doctor before you park.”
The call ended.
Price exhaled. “Absolutely not.”
Adriana stood. “You can’t give him evidence.”
“I know.”
Tony said, “And you can’t go alone.”
“I know that too.”
Price looked at me with suspicion. “What are you thinking?”
I looked at the unicorn stickers on the notebook.
Then at my brother’s initials.
Then at Adriana, whose life had been broken by the same hand now holding another doctor hostage.
“Harlan thinks I’m sentimental,” I said.
“You are,” Adriana said quietly.
I looked at her.
She did not soften the truth.
“Good,” I said. “Then we use it.”
At 11:57 a.m., I walked alone toward the alley behind La Estrella with a brown envelope in my hand.
No Bruno.
No Tony.
May you like
No visible weapon.
Just me, the ghosts of two murdered men, and a child’s pink notebook copied so many times that Harlan could burn the original and still drown in the truth.
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