“Oh, oh oh! And a date! We have to get you a date!”
Haven blinked rapidly. “A date?”
“Yes! You get to bring guests, right? You can’t go alone!”
Reaching into the envelope, Haven pulled out the letter and unfolded it, eyeing the three wrinkly tickets tucked inside. She put hers back into the envelope and held the other two out to her friend. “I want you to come with me.”
“Me? But—”
“Take them,” Haven insisted. “You’ve been so great to me. You took me home on Christmas and introduced me to your family.”
“I should be making that up to you, not the other way around.”
Haven laughed. “Come with me. And if Fred’s the one, bring him, too.”
Kelsey hesitated before taking the two tickets. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.” Smiling, Haven took a step back toward the door. “Invite whoever you want. My thanks to you for being such a great friend.”
Haven started out of the apartment, hearing Kelsey yell after her as she descended the stairs. “Fine, but you’re still getting a dress! Don’t think you’re getting out of that one!”
* * *
“As to count one, participating in the conduct of the affairs of an enterprise through a pattern of racketeering activity, we the jury find the defendant, Corrado Alphonse Moretti . . .” There was a pause, one that seemed to stretch for eternity, before the fateful words were read. “. . . Not guilty.”
The packed courtroom erupted in noise, a few elated cheers mixing with the horrified shouts of disbelief from onlookers. Cameras flashed from the media, recording the moment, as the judge feverishly banged his gavel for silence.
Count after count was read, all of them with the same result: not guilty, not guilty, not guilty. Corrado remained still as he stood at the defendant’s table, the only one in the room not reacting emotionally. He felt it, though, churning in the pit of his heavy stomach, evident in the cold sweat formed along his back. It was the only time he had ever been unsure of a verdict before it was read. For the first time in his life, he had had a moment where he actually wondered if it could be the end for him.
And that moment to Corrado, as he contemplated his uncertain future, was worse than facing death. Death he could accept . . . being a caged animal he couldn’t. He would never let it show, though. He exuded nothing but total confidence, bordering on callous conceit.
When the jury finished, the judge ruled for Corrado’s immediate release. Corrado stood after the final bang of the gavel, ignoring the incessant shouting and name-calling from the gallery as he shook Mr. Borza’s hand. He turned then, seeking out his wife in the crowd, and found her in the back, standing all alone and smiling.
Corrado’s chest swelled. It felt like forever since he had seen her look happy.
“Congratulations,” Mr. Markson said, his voice laced with bitterness. “I’m curious how you did it this time. Intimidation? Extortion? Plain ole bribery?”
Corrado shook his head. “I did none of those things.”
“Murder, then?” The prosecutor raised his eyebrow in challenge. “Did you kill your own family, Mr. Moretti? Is that what happened to Vincent DeMarco?”
Corrado stared at the man, keeping his expression blank. If he only knew the depth of that question . . .
“The jury just saw through you,” he responded coolly. “You had no case. You should work on that, you know. You don’t seem to be very good at your job.”
The prosecutor’s posture stiffened. “I am good at my job. The problem is people like you have absolutely no respect for it. You have no respect for the law. But you’ll get what’s coming to you someday.”
“I look forward to it.”
The prosecutor stormed away as Corrado addressed his lawyer. “Juror number six . . . I want you to find out who she is.”
Mr. Borza blanched. “Why?”
“I think I owe my freedom to her.”
Corrado turned to the crowd of spectators, watching his wife make her way toward him. He opened his arms, pulling her to him in a tight embrace. Her body shook with happy cries as he kissed the top of her head.
“Six months away from you was far too long, bellissima,” he whispered. “I promise it’ll never happen again.”