Chapter 11 - The Father Beyond the Border
Declan recognized Gabriel immediately.
“He’s older,” he said, holding the photograph beneath the hospital light. “But it’s him.”
Sofia stared over his shoulder.
“My brother died in a boating accident.”
“No body was found,” Mave said.
“Rafe searched for months.”
“Maybe Gabriel did not want to be found.”
Finn slept behind the glass wall of the recovery room, his new heart beating steadily beneath layers of monitors.
Mave looked at his face.
If Gabriel was his father, Finn deserved the truth.
But every truth in their lives seemed connected to another trap.
Nico traced the clinic in the photograph to a neurological rehabilitation center outside Montreal.
The image had been taken six days earlier.
“He may be a patient,” Nico said. “Or visiting one.”
“Vincent sent the photograph,” Declan replied. “He wants us to go.”
Mave folded her arms.
“That doesn’t mean Gabriel isn’t there.”
Nico looked at her bandages.
“You are not traveling.”
She gave him a flat look.
“I have noticed that Colazo employees enjoy giving me orders.”
“We enjoy keeping you alive.”
“You are not very successful at it.”
Sofia almost smiled.
Mave remained with Finn while Declan and Nico flew to Canada.
Sofia went to the detention center to confront Rafe about the marriage certificate.
He sat behind reinforced glass, wearing a plain gray shirt instead of his tailored suit.
For the first time in her life, Sofia thought her brother looked tired.
“Did you know?” she asked.
Rafe understood immediately.
“My attorney received the document before my arrest.”
“And you said nothing.”
“It was unverified.”
“Mave thinks you used Finn.”
“I know.”
“You should have told her.”
“Yes.”
Sofia blinked.
She had expected an argument.
“You admit it?”
“I had spent three days watching her risk her life every time someone she loved was threatened. If I told her Finn might not be Gabriel’s son while he was waiting for a transplant, she would have tried to solve that too.”
“You were protecting her.”
“I was controlling what she knew.”
Sofia looked down.
“That sounds like Vincent.”
Rafe flinched almost imperceptibly.
“I know.”
In Montreal, Declan and Nico entered the clinic under false names.
Gabriel Colazo occupied a private room on the third floor.
He sat near the window in a wheelchair, reading a newspaper.
His hair had gone silver at the temples. A surgical scar crossed the back of his skull.
When Declan entered, Gabriel looked up calmly.
“You took longer than I expected.”
Declan stopped.
“You know me?”
“I know Evelyn’s son.”
Nico closed the door.
“Are you Finn Donovan’s father?”
Gabriel’s calm expression disappeared.
“Finn?”
“Evelyn had a son nine years ago.”
Gabriel stood too quickly and caught the chair for support.
“She was pregnant?”
“She died during childbirth.”
Gabriel closed his eyes.
For several seconds, the room held only the sound of his breathing.
“I tried to return.”
“What stopped you?”
“Vincent.”
Gabriel explained that he had discovered evidence connecting Vincent to Antonio’s murder. Before he could reach Rafe, Vincent’s men forced his boat onto rocks near Cape Ann.
Gabriel survived with a skull fracture and memory loss.
A Canadian fishing crew found him without identification.
For six years, he remembered nothing before the accident.
“When fragments returned, Vincent found me,” Gabriel said. “He threatened Evelyn and her children. He showed me photographs of Mave leaving work and Finn entering school.”
“Why didn’t you contact Rafe?”
“Vincent controlled every route back. I didn’t know whether Rafe was part of it.”
Nico placed the photograph of Finn on the table.
Gabriel touched the image with trembling fingers.
“He has Evelyn’s mouth.”
“Will you take a paternity test?”
“Yes.”
A nurse knocked.
Before Nico could answer, the door burst inward.
Two men in clinic uniforms opened fire.
Nico pulled Gabriel behind the bed.
Declan shot one attacker.
The second escaped through the corridor after triggering a fire alarm.
As patients were evacuated, Declan found a black crow ring on the dead man.
“Vincent knows we found him.”
They moved Gabriel through a service exit and onto the private plane.
During the flight, Nico received an alert from Boston.
Vincent had leaked the identities of twelve officials listed in the stolen ledger.
One judge died in an apparent suicide.
A police captain disappeared.
The others began blaming Rafe publicly.
Vincent was forcing every compromised person to choose a side.
At the hospital, Mave received another message.
Bring Gabriel to Pier 17 at midnight. Come without Rafe’s people, or I release the location of every surviving woman your brother rescued.
Attached was a list of names.
Declan had spent nine years helping victims escape Vincent’s network.
If their locations became public, dozens of lives would be at risk.
Mave called Declan.
He was still in the air.
“You cannot go,” he said after reading the message.
“He has names.”
“He may be bluffing.”
“Can you risk that?”
Declan went silent.
Mave looked through the glass at Finn.
“I’ll meet him.”
“No.”
“I’m the person he asked for.”
“That is because he knows you will sacrifice yourself.”
“He’s right.”
“Mave!”
She ended the call.
At 11:52 p.m., wearing a dark coat over her bandages, Mave reached Pier 17 alone.
Fog rolled across the empty dock.
A figure waited beneath a yellow security light.
Not Vincent.
Gerald Moss.
He leaned on a cane, his wounded leg extended stiffly.
“You always were desperate to be useful,” he said.
Mave kept one hand inside her coat, wrapped around a small pistol.
“Where are the names?”
“Safe.”
“Give them to me.”
Gerald smiled.
“First, you are going to tell the cameras that Rafe Colazo ordered the attack at the Salt Line.”
Mave looked toward the dark warehouse windows.
“You’re recording.”
“We’re broadcasting.”
A red light appeared on a nearby camera.
Thousands of viewers were already watching.
Gerald stepped closer.
“Tell Boston that Rafe hired the attacker so he could pretend to rescue you and use Finn’s illness to manipulate the public.”
“And then?”
“The witnesses remain hidden.”
“How do I know?”
“You don’t.”
Mave looked directly into the camera.
Gerald smiled triumphantly.
She began speaking.
“My name is Mave Donovan. Three nights ago, I was struck by a steel baton at the Salt Line.”
Gerald nodded.
“Rafe Colazo did not arrange that attack.”
His smile vanished.
Mave continued.
“But Gerald Moss knew it was coming.”
Gerald reached for her.
Mave pulled the pistol.
A shot echoed across the pier.
She looked down.
Blood spread across the front of her coat.
May you like
From the fog behind Gerald, Vincent lowered his gun.
Mave collapsed beside the water.
