Chapter 58
“Hang on,” Gideon said into the phone as he walked behind the false wall they’d built to hide the audio equipment.
He had done his research well. He knew that Rachael would be petrified at the mere sound of dogs. And that was all it took to bring her to the point of hysteria—a cut from a sound effects library.
He stepped outside the rear door and put the phone to his ear. “Mom, what’s up? I’m a little busy.”
“I thought your shift would be over. That’s why I waited till now.”
“My shift is over. I’m busy with life.” He still had the choke pear in his other hand, and he fondled it.
“Fine. I’ll make this short. You’ll never believe who came to the house today.”
“Mom, can this wait? I’m really busy here.”
“Teresa Salvi.”
“That’s great, Mom. I gotta— What? Who?”
“Mrs. Salvi. She told me to call her Teresa.”
“What the fuck was she doing there?”
“Gideon. Language.”
“Mom, Mom, I’m sorry. I wasn’t focused. Just tell me again. Teresa Salvi came to the house? Joe Salvi’s wife?”
“Now I have your attention. Yes, she did. She made a special trip just to thank me for returning her son’s book.”
There was a plastic milk crate behind the garage, and Gideon slowly lowered himself to it. “What book?” he asked. But, of course, he knew the answer before he even asked the question.
“Her son Enzo’s journal. I found it wedged behind a desk drawer when I was cleaning up your room.”
“That’s…that’s impossible.”
“Is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?”
His brain was racing. His mother couldn’t have the book because he had it. He could swear he had it.
That rainy night in 2001, he had read through every page. He remembered thinking, If the people in this book knew I was the one who put Enzo Salvi out of the protection business, they would throw me one hell of a party.
But he couldn’t tell anyone. And he couldn’t bring himself to burn it either. He was sixteen, and Enzo Salvi’s leather book with the gold froufrous on it was a trophy. Over the years, he’d thought about destroying it, but he couldn’t. It was a symbol of what he could accomplish when he was only a kid. Imagine how powerful he could become.
Sure, it was dangerous to keep, but Gideon never ran away from danger. He never told Dave he still had it. Dave would shit. But over the years, he’d had no regrets—he was happy he’d kept it. If he’d ever had any guilt about killing Enzo, the details in that journal were a living list of the scumbag’s crimes.
A few years ago, when he’d moved out of his mother’s house, he’d packed up everything he’d wanted to keep. He could swear he’d taken the journal. He’d been drinking that night, but still—he was sure he’d buried it at the bottom of one of those cartons that were stored in the closet of his new apartment. It had to be there. It had to.
“Gideon—are you listening?” his mother said. “I asked you a question.”
“What, Mom? I didn’t hear you.”
“I said I hope I didn’t do the wrong thing. The book had Enzo’s name on it, so I gave it to Father Spinelli, who gave it to Mrs. Salvi. The poor woman’s son was killed when he was only eighteen.”
“No, Mom, you didn’t do the wrong thing.”
“I know those Salvis are mixed up in all kinds of shady nonsense. But not the mother. She’s always going to Mass. She throws those big parties for the neighborhood. I thought the least I could do was let her have a little touchstone of her dead son. God only knows how his book wound up with your things.”
“You did fine, Mom,” Gideon said. “Thanks for telling me. I’ve got to go now.”
“I know, I know, you’re so busy with life, but maybe one night you can squeeze in a dinner with me and Sherman.”
“I promise,” Gideon said. “Love you, Mom.”
He set down the phone and buried his face in one hand.
He didn’t have to check the cartons in his closet. Somehow he’d screwed up. He had left Enzo’s book at his mother’s house, and she’d given it to the Salvis.
He stood up. And now the Salvis are going to come after me and Dave.
The back door opened, and Dave stepped out.
“Hey, Gid, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Gideon said. “Just the usual stupid Mom phone call. You know—‘Who are you dating? Don’t work too hard.’ Nothing important.”
“You did great in there with the choke pear. And the dogs—that was a good call. She’s cracking.”