Chapter 3 - THE SCENT ON THE COAT
The first camera gave us nothing. The second showed a dark sedan turning
onto the side street at 6:14 p.m. The third captured it leaving less
than two minutes later.
Tony enlarged the image. The license plate was partly obscured, but its
final characters were visible.
“It’s one of ours,” he said.
“Who signed it out?”
“Marco.”
The footage showed the sedan slowing near the crossing. A small figure
stepped off the curb. Headlights flashed across the screen. Then the car
accelerated away.
I felt my jaw tighten.
“Give the original footage to the police. Don’t edit a frame.”
Tony looked surprised. “You want the police involved?”
“A child is dead. This isn’t a collections problem.”
Back at the mansion, Bruno paced outside my office. He had refused his
food and ignored every command except one: stay near Elena’s drawing.
I picked up the coat I had worn to the funeral. Bruno sniffed the lower
hem and began barking. He pawed at the fabric, then looked up at me.
Tony leaned closer. “What does he smell?”
A faint chemical odor clung to the wool. I had noticed it at the funeral
but assumed it came from the car.
“Fuel additive,” Tony said. “The kind used by the maintenance crew at
the East River garage. Marco’s men use it on the fleet.”
I remembered Marco standing behind me at the funeral. Bruno had moved
between them before I even noticed.
“Where did Marco go after leaving the funeral?”
“His apartment, according to the guard.”
“Check.”
Tony called. A minute later, his face hardened. “His apartment is empty.
His wife is gone too.”
“Find her. Quietly.”
May you like
I looked down at Bruno. A dog couldn’t explain what he had smelled, but
he had recognized something. I had ignored it for too long.
