Redemption (Sempre 2)

“I see I’m wasting my time,” Agent Cerone said. “Anything you want to say before we end this?”

“Just that I’d like to speak to my lawyer.”

Agent Cerone gathered his things, not the least bit surprised. “Of course. Hang tight. It’ll take a while to get you released, but we should have you out in plenty of time for the funeral.”

“Whose funeral?”

“Vincent’s.”

“Vincent’s dead?”

The agent shook his head. “At least you’re consistent. But yes, he is. They should be alerting the next of kin any moment.”

As Agent Cerone stood to leave, Corrado’s expression fell. He was much too weary to keep up the charade. He sat still in the seat and stared at the far wall as his stomach twisted again . . . this time with something much closer to anxiety. He hardly noticed the stench anymore, his grief strong enough to overpower it.

“Wait,” he said, stalling the agent’s footsteps.

“Yes, Mr. Moretti?”

“I need to make a call.”

The agent sighed. “Your lawyer’s already next door with Carmine DeMarco. I’ll send him over as soon as we’re done there.”

“I don’t need to call my lawyer,” he said. “I need to call my wife.”

“Your wife can’t help you right now.”

Corrado glared at the man. “She’s going to think it’s me.”

“What?”

“You said they’re going to be making the notification soon. As soon as they show up at my door, she’s going to think it’s me.”

A debate played out on the man’s face momentarily, his lips twitching into a frown. “Her brother, her husband . . . it’ll hurt either way. They’ll explain it to her.”

“I made her a promise that I’d never leave her again,” he said. “I don’t want her to think I broke it, even if it’s only for a minute.”

The agent’s brow furrowed. “How could you promise her that? Living the life you live, you’re bound to break it someday.”

“I won’t,” he said. “There’s nothing I won’t do to keep my vows.”

“Even if it means killing?”

Corrado just stared at the man, and he stared right back. The agent broke first, though, a deep sigh reverberating his chest as he looked away. Frowning, he released Corrado from the interrogation room and led him to a small cubicle, where he picked up a black phone and handed it to him. “You have five minutes.”

Corrado dialed his house number, listening as it rang and rang. He was on the verge of giving up when he heard Celia’s voice on the line. Although she spoke hesitantly, he could detect no distress. Worried, but not heartbroken. She hadn’t been told yet. “Hello?”

“I didn’t think you were going to answer.”

Celia let out a deep sigh. “Corrado, why does the caller ID say the Cook County Police Station?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Does it end with you getting arrested again?”

“No.” He glanced down at himself, eyeing the handcuffs secured to his wrists. “Not technically.”

“Do you need me to get you out?” she asked. “I don’t think I can come up with bail money until morning, although we might have—”