Chapter 3 - THE THING SAINT WAS WILLING TO DIE FOR
Nobody touched the brass capsule for several seconds.
It was barely larger than Josie's thumb.
Scratched.
Dented.
Ordinary enough that she might have thrown it away if she'd found it on a sidewalk.
Marco looked at it like a loaded gun.
“Put it on the table.”
Josie did.
Carlo returned moments later and stopped when he saw it.
“You found it.”
“No,” Marco said.
His eyes remained on Josie.
“She did.”
Carlo's expression changed.
“Where?”
“In her coat lining.”
Josie crossed her arms.
“Would someone like to explain why everybody suddenly looks like we're holding nuclear launch codes?”
Marco didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he took a pair of medical gloves from a dispenser and carefully picked up the capsule.
He twisted one end.
Nothing.
Carlo examined it.
“Sealed.”
“Get Andre.”
Josie sighed.
“Who is Andre?”
“Our technical specialist.”
“Does anyone here have a normal job?”
Carlo actually coughed to hide a laugh.
Marco looked at him.
Carlo's face went blank.
A thin man in glasses arrived carrying a small case.
He examined the capsule under magnification.
“Custom threading. Pressure seal. If there's electronics inside, forcing it could damage whatever it contains.”
Marco nodded.
“Open it.”
“I'll need equipment.”
“Do it here.”
Andre disappeared.
Josie's phone buzzed.
A text from Ruthie.
Diner. Now. Customer threw coffee at Kevin. We need sane people.
Josie slipped the phone away.
“I really am leaving.”
Marco turned.
“No.”
“Still not a word you get to use with me.”
“Josie, someone tortured my dog looking for this object. Those same people watched you take him away.”
“I didn't take him away. You did.”
“They don't know that matters.”
“What do you want me to do? Move into your secret animal hospital?”
“For tonight, yes.”
She stared.
Marco didn't appear to be joking.
“No.”
“It would be safer.”
“For you.”
“For both of us.”
Josie grabbed her backpack.
Marco's hand moved toward her arm.
Then he apparently remembered her reaction to being controlled and stopped before touching her.
“You think I'm trying to keep you prisoner.”
“Are you?”
“No.”
“Then I'm leaving.”
Marco's gaze hardened.
“Take Carlo.”
“No.”
“A driver.”
“No.”
“Someone follows at a distance.”
“No.”
Josie stepped closer.
“If you're genuinely worried about my safety, give me a phone number and I'll call if something happens. But you don't get to rearrange my life because your dog hid something in my coat.”
Marco studied her.
Then he took a card from his pocket.
There was no business logo.
Only a number.
“Call this.”
“Fine.”
“Any time.”
“Fine.”
“If you see either man from the alley—”
“I'll call.”
“If anyone approaches you asking about Saint—”
“I'll call.”
“If—”
“Marco.”
He stopped.
It was the first time she'd used his first name.
Something subtle passed through his expression.
“I understand.”
She pocketed the card.
Then she looked through the window.
“Can I see him before I go?”
Marco nodded.
Saint lay under heated blankets surrounded by machines.
His enormous body looked strangely vulnerable.
Josie stood beside him and rested her fingers against his paw.
“You owe me half a sandwich.”
One cloudy eye opened.
His tail moved beneath the blanket.
Josie smiled.
“You're stubborn.”
Marco stood behind her.
“So are you.”
She glanced over.
“Maybe that's why he likes me.”
Saint's paw closed slightly around Josie's wrist.
Marco watched.
He had owned Saint for seven years.
He knew the dog's moods, warnings, loyalties.
Saint tolerated almost everyone Marco trusted.
He loved perhaps four people.
Three were dead.
The fourth was Marco.
Yet now the dog was holding the wrist of a woman he'd known less than an hour.
Marco didn't know what that meant.
He only knew it unsettled him.
Josie left.
Two blocks from the clinic, she noticed the black sedan.
It followed slowly.
She stopped.
The sedan stopped.
Josie turned around and walked toward it.
The driver lowered the window.
Carlo smiled awkwardly.
“Hi.”
“You've got to be kidding me.”
“Boss said you could say no to a driver.”
“He specifically offered somebody following at a distance. I said no.”
“Yes.”
“So?”
Carlo considered this.
“He didn't say I had to obey your no.”
Josie pointed back toward the clinic.
“Go away.”
“Can't.”
“Carlo.”
“I'm very attached to my paycheck.”
She glared.
He smiled.
“Pretend I'm Uber with boundaries.”
Josie gave up.
At Ruthie's Diner, she tied on an apron and worked the afternoon shift.
For three hours, nothing happened.
Normal felt strange after the morning.
Coffee.
Pancakes.
A toddler dropping cereal.
Two construction workers arguing about the Bears.
An elderly man leaving exactly fourteen percent tip.
Josie began believing maybe Marco's paranoia had been unnecessary.
Then a man entered at four thirty.
Gray coat.
Baseball cap.
He sat at the counter.
“Coffee.”
Josie poured it.
He looked at her bandaged arm.
“Bad day?”
“Something like that.”
“Dog bite?”
Josie froze.
The man smiled.
Then she noticed his right hand.
A burn scar across the thumb.
She had seen that hand.
Holding her coat in the alley.
The taller attacker.
Josie stepped back.
His smile disappeared.
“Where's the capsule?”
Her heart slammed.
“You've got the wrong person.”
He reached across the counter and grabbed her wrist.
Ruthie shouted from the register.
“Hey!”
The man pulled Josie close.
“Where is it?”
Josie grabbed the coffee pot and smashed it against the counter.
Glass exploded.
Customers screamed.
The man released her.
Josie ran for the kitchen.
He followed.
Then the diner's front door opened.
Carlo walked in.
He saw Josie running.
Saw the man.
His easy expression vanished.
“Down!”
Josie dropped.
Carlo crossed the room frighteningly fast.
The attacker swung.
Carlo blocked it, drove him backward, and pinned him against a booth.
The entire fight lasted maybe six seconds.
Then another customer stood.
Carlo saw the gun beneath the man's jacket.
“Josie!”
She threw herself behind the counter.
The second man drew.
Before he could fire, a heavy ceramic mug struck his wrist.
Ruthie had thrown it.
The gun clattered beneath a table.
“You don't pull weapons in my diner!” the sixty-three-year-old woman shouted.
Carlo stared at her.
Ruthie pointed at him.
“You too.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
Two more of Marco's men entered.
Josie rose slowly.
Her knees shook.
Carlo pulled out his phone.
“Boss.”
Josie grabbed it.
“No.”
Carlo blinked.
She raised the phone to her ear.
Marco answered instantly.
“What happened?”
“You were right.”
Silence.
“What happened?”
“The man from the alley came to my job.”
Marco's voice became very quiet.
“Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
“Stay there.”
“Marco—”
But the line had gone dead.
Twelve minutes later, three black SUVs pulled up outside Ruthie's Diner.
Every customer had their phone out.
Josie groaned.
“This is exactly what I needed.”
Marco entered.
Dark suit.
No overcoat.
Two men behind him.
The diner became silent.
Ruthie looked him up and down.
“You DeSantis?”
Marco paused.
“Yes.”
“You brought criminals into my restaurant?”
Marco looked at the restrained attacker.
“He's not mine.”
“He's bleeding on booth six.”
“I'll pay for it.”
Ruthie's eyes narrowed.
“You think money fixes everything?”
Marco glanced at Josie.
“No.”
That answer seemed to surprise both women.
He walked to Josie.
“Show me your arm.”
“I'm fine.”
“Josie.”
She held it out.
The attacker had reopened two stitches.
Marco's jaw tightened.
“Carlo.”
“Already called Levin.”
“I am not going back.”
“Yes, you are.”
Josie opened her mouth.
Ruthie interrupted.
“Go.”
Josie stared.
“You were just yelling at him.”
“I can yell at him and still agree with him.”
“Ruthie.”
“Someone came here with a gun because of you. You're taking the rest of the week off.”
“I need the money.”
Ruthie folded her arms.
“You need to be alive to spend it.”
Marco watched Josie's face.
There it was again.
Not fear of the men.
Fear of missing wages.
“How much does she make this week?” he asked.
Both women turned on him.
“Don't,” Josie warned.
Ruthie answered anyway.
“About six hundred if she works both jobs.”
Marco reached into his jacket.
Josie's eyes flashed.
“If you take out a checkbook, I swear—”
He stopped.
Then put his hand back.
“Fine.”
Ruthie smiled.
“I like her.”
“You don't know her.”
“Neither do you.”
Marco looked at Josie.
“Apparently that hasn't stopped either of us from getting involved.”
His phone rang.
Andre.
Marco answered.
“Tell me.”
The technical specialist spoke rapidly.
Marco's face lost all expression.
“What?” Josie asked.
He lowered the phone.
“The capsule is open.”
“And?”
Marco looked toward the attacker being held against the booth.
“There's a memory card inside.”
“What does it contain?”
Marco's eyes returned to Josie.
“A list of names.”
“Whose?”
“Police officers. Judges. Contractors. Politicians.”
Josie's stomach tightened.
Marco continued.
“And someone inside my own organization.”
“Who?”
“We don't know yet. The file is encrypted.”
The restrained attacker began laughing.
Marco turned.
The man had blood at the corner of his mouth.
“You're already dead,” he said.
Marco walked toward him.
The man wasn't looking at Marco.
He was looking at Josie.
“She is too.”
Josie's skin went cold.
The attacker smiled at her.
“You should've let the dog die.”
From outside came a sudden explosion.
May you like
The diner's front windows shattered inward.
And every light went out.
