Chapter 1 - THE MAFIA BOSS WHO WALKED INTO MY DINER
The most feared man in New York had just walked into a diner where the coffee cost $2.50, and he was looking directly at me.
I considered hiding behind the pie display.
Unfortunately, Roman Moretti had already seen me.
"Harper Hayes."
My boss, Eddie Murphy, turned so pale I thought he might need a chair.
"You know Mr. Moretti?"
"Not socially," I whispered.
Roman approached the counter in a charcoal overcoat that probably cost more than Eddie's refrigerator.
"May we talk?"
I glanced at the breakfast crowd.
"I'm working."
Roman looked toward Eddie.
Eddie immediately opened his mouth.
"She can take the whole day—"
"No," I interrupted.
Both men stared at me.
"I need my shift."
Roman's expression changed.
Then he nodded.
"Then I'll order breakfast."
I blinked.
"What?"
"Coffee. Eggs. Whatever you recommend."
I studied him suspiciously.
"You don't look like a scrambled-eggs person."
The corner of his mouth moved.
"Surprise me."
Ten minutes later, Roman Moretti was sitting beneath a flickering Budweiser clock, eating pancakes while a truck driver three booths away pretended not to recognize him.
I brought his coffee.
"Is your mother all right?"
His expression softened.
"She asked about you this morning."
"That's nice."
"She also said my behavior embarrassed her."
I smiled.
"She seems very perceptive."
Roman almost laughed.
Then he reached into his coat and placed a photograph on the table.
"Harper, I came because of your brother."
My smile disappeared.
The photograph showed Owen.
Twelve years old.
Dark curls.
A missing front tooth.
And the blue hearing aids he hated wearing until I decorated them with tiny superhero stickers.
I hadn't seen that photograph in seven years.
My hands began shaking.
"Where did you get this?"
Roman watched my face.
"My mother found it among some old medical records."
I stared at him.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"Because Owen died when he was thirteen."
Roman's expression changed.
He leaned forward.
"Harper, what hospital treated him?"
"St. Catherine's Children's Hospital."
Roman went completely still.
Then he asked something that made the diner seem suddenly silent.
"Did you actually see your brother after they told you he died?"
I swallowed.
"No."
My parents had been told the complications were too severe.
His body had supposedly been transferred before I arrived.
There had been a closed-casket funeral.
Roman slowly turned the photograph over.
On the back was a date.
Six months ago.
My knees almost gave way.
Then Roman looked directly at me.
"Harper, my mother believes your brother is still alive."
May you like
Before I could answer, he added:
"She also believes someone in my family paid to make him disappear."
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