Page 122 of The Mafia's Christmas Baby

She doesn’t.

“If I let you do this,” she says softly, “you stop trying to turn my life into a parade?”

“I stop nothing that keeps you breathing,” I say. “But yes. I won’t make a scene. I’ll make a wall.”

Dr. Conte is already in the hall by the time I open the door.

Small woman.

Steady hands.

Eyes that see through excuses.

She takes one look at Elisa and holds out a gown.

“Come on,” she says. “We’re going to take a picture and make the men shut up.”

I stay in the chair by the door while they work.

Machines hum.

Gel smells like lemon.

A heartbeat flickers through the speaker, quick and sure.

It punches the inside of my ribs.

I don’t say a word. Elisa doesn’t either.

Dr. Conte angles the screen toward Elisa and away from me like a quiet boundary and then, when she’s ready, she turns it toward me too.

“Everything looks the way it should,” she says. “No bleeds. No flags. Your blood pressure is a little high, but I could have told you that when I saw his face.”

Elisa laughs for real at that. It breaks something tight in me.

I stand and thank the doctor in a way people in this building understand.

She takes the thanks and the envelope and tells me to stop hovering by the hinge like a cartoon bodyguard.

Alvarez calls while Elisa is tying her hair back.

“You have a gift for timing,” he says. “Security brought me a dumb kid with peppermint on his breath and a knife he bought with cash. Says he was trying to snatch his kid sister from a bad boyfriend. Says you’re the boyfriend. Says a lot.”

“Does he have a name?” I ask.

“Today he’s ‘Don’t Remember.’ Yesterday he was probably ‘Cash Upfront.’” Alvarez lowers his voice. “Plate on the SUV you shookthis morning comes back to a funeral home on Staten Island that’s been closed for a decade. Your fan club’s learning new tricks.”

“I want his phone,” I say. “And I want ten minutes with him before you move him. He’s not made for a room with you. He’ll crack on the wrong thing.”

“Can’t do the ten minutes,” Alvarez says. “But I can step out for coffee and forget my recorder is on. Two minutes. In the sub office. Keep it clean.”

“Always,” I say and hang up.

Elisa hears enough to catch the shape.

“You’re going to go scare a kid,” she says.

“I’m going to go make sure the next one stays away,” I say. “Rafe will sit outside this door. Tino will watch the other hall. You lock this from the inside and you don’t open it for anyone who doesn’t say my name.”