Chapter 8 - Family Dinner
Marco arrived that night smiling like a man who thought he was untouchable.
“Rico,” he said, opening his arms. “You call, I come.”
Ricardo didn’t hug him.
We sat in the dining room. Leo ate beside me. Detective Torres listened from a hidden earpiece in the next room.
Ricardo poured coffee.
“Where were you the night Sofia died?”
Marco blinked once. “We did this already.”
“Do it again.”
“At my club in Queens.”
“Your cameras were down.”
“Bad luck.”
Ricardo slid the traffic photo across the table.
Marco didn’t touch it.
“Looks blurry.”
“You changed Sofia’s security detail.”
Marco’s smile faded. “Victor told you that?”
There it was.
He knew Victor had talked without Ricardo saying so.
I saw Ricardo notice too.
Marco leaned back. “You’re letting a waitress and a frightened kid turn you against blood.”
Leo’s spoon stopped halfway to his mouth.
I put my hand near his without touching him.
Marco looked at me. “You should be careful, sweetheart.”
Ricardo’s chair scraped back.
“Don’t call her that.”
Marco laughed, but his eyes were cold.
Then Leo whispered, “Blue car.”
Marco turned toward him too fast.
Leo dropped his spoon.
“Bad man,” he said.
Marco stood.
Ricardo stood with him.
The room went silent.
Marco’s phone vibrated on the table.
The screen lit up.
One message preview appeared before he could grab it.
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Marco ate like a man at a business dinner, cutting his steak neatly while Ricardo questioned him. That calm bothered me more than anger would have. He looked at Leo only when he thought no one noticed, and each time his eyes were measuring something. Fear? Memory? Risk? I couldn't tell. But when Leo called him the bad man, Marco's fork stopped in the air before his smile returned.
SHE FOUND THE RECORDING.
