Chapter 6 - THE PHOTOGRAPH
"Leo!" Vanessa screamed from the back seat, throwing her hands against the wet window.
The little boy on the chapel steps was terrified, kicking his bare feet against the massive enforcer holding him. Leo had Luca’s dark hair, but his eyes—even from this distance in the rain—were unmistakably Michael’s.
Luca slammed on the brakes, throwing the Honda into park in the middle of the street.
"Stay in the car," Luca ordered, his voice devoid of all emotion. It was the voice of a Moretti boss. The voice of a man about to commit extreme violence.
"Luca, he has a gun!" I yelled, seeing the glint of steel in the enforcer's free hand.
But Luca was already out the door. He didn't run. He walked with a terrifying, deliberate calmness straight toward the chapel steps. The pouring rain plastered his white tuxedo shirt to his skin.
The enforcer looked up, raising his weapon. "Stay back, boss! Silvio’s orders!"
Luca didn't stop. "Let my nephew go, Marcus."
"I can't do that," the enforcer barked, leveling the gun at Luca's chest. "Take one more step, and I put you down."
I couldn't just sit there. I looked at the photograph of the Police Commissioner and Silvio in my hand.
Answer one: Silvio's power came from buying the police, which is why Michael's murder was covered up so easily.
Open two: If the police were dirty, who could we possibly give this photograph to that would actually arrest Silvio?
I grabbed my phone from my apron and dialed the only number I could think of.
"911, what is your emergency?" the dispatcher answered.
"I need the FBI," I said quickly. "Not the Chicago Police. The FBI. I have proof of corruption regarding Police Commissioner Higgins and the Moretti crime family. We are at St. Catherine's church, and a child is about to be murdered."
I threw the phone on the dashboard, hoping they would trace it, and scrambled out of the car.
Vanessa followed me, sobbing Leo's name.
Luca had closed the distance to the steps. Marcus cocked his weapon.
"I said stop!"
But a sudden, loud creak echoed from the massive oak doors behind them.
The heavy doors swung open. Standing in the threshold, leaning heavily on a wooden cane, was Father Michael—the elderly priest of the parish.
He didn't yell. He didn't cower. He simply raised his heavy wooden walking cane and brought it down with all his remaining strength directly onto the wrist of the enforcer holding the gun.
A sickening crack echoed. Marcus screamed, dropping the weapon.
Luca moved like lightning. He lunged up the steps, grabbing Marcus by the throat and slamming his head brutally against the stone pillar of the chapel. The enforcer crumpled to the ground, unconscious.
Luca immediately dropped to his knees, catching the little boy as he fell.
"I've got you," Luca whispered fiercely, pulling Leo into his chest. "I've got you. I'm your Uncle Luca."
Leo buried his face into Luca's wet shirt, sobbing uncontrollably.
Vanessa rushed up the steps, collapsing onto her knees and throwing her arms around both of them. For the first time, I saw what true family looked like. It wasn't the cold, calculated dinners at the Moretti mansion. It was this desperate, fiercely protective embrace in the rain.
Father Michael breathed heavily, leaning against the doorframe. "Emily," the old priest said, recognizing me from my cleaning shifts. "You need to get inside. More of Silvio's men are coming through the rectory."
A reversal shattered our momentary relief.
If Silvio's men were already in the back of the church, we were trapped.
"Through the sanctuary," Father Michael ordered, ushering us inside and shoving the heavy deadbolt into place. "Hurry. We can go down into the catacombs."
We ran down the central aisle of the beautiful, candle-lit church. The stained glass windows rattled as heavy fists began pounding against the rear doors near the altar.
Leo clung to Luca’s neck, his small face pale with fear.
We reached the small door behind the baptismal font that led down into the crypts.
"Go," Father Michael said, handing Luca a heavy iron ring of keys. "The old smuggler's tunnel leads out to the river. Take the boy."
"Father, come with us," I begged, seeing the exhaustion in the old man's face.
"My place is here," the priest smiled softly. He reached into his vestments and pulled out a simple wooden rosary. He pressed it into my hand.
"Keep the faith, Emily," he whispered. "The truth always comes to the light."
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The rear doors of the sanctuary shattered inward with a deafening crash. Silvio's men were inside.
Luca grabbed my arm, pulling me down the stone stairs into the darkness, and slammed the crypt door shut just as the first shot rang out.
