Chapter 2 - THE NIGHT MY FATHER LEFT A WARNING
I had spent nine years believing my father abandoned us.
Now strangers were searching our apartment for something connected to his disappearance.
Salvatore didn't hesitate.
He signaled to his security chief, Marco DeLuca, and explained the situation in rapid American Sign Language.
Marco's face changed.
Then he reached for his phone.
I watched him contact the police while Salvatore wrote down Danny's address and the time of his last message.
For a man known for terrifying half of Chicago, Salvatore was strangely calm.
He wasn't ordering anyone to threaten Brett.
He wasn't promising revenge.
He was helping me preserve evidence and find my brother.
That surprised me.
But I wasn't ready to trust him.
Not yet.
Twenty minutes later, Detective Sarah Mitchell called.
Officers had reached our apartment building.
The front door showed signs of forced entry.
Several drawers had been searched.
But Danny wasn't inside.
My legs nearly gave out.
"Where is he?"
The detective's voice was gentle.
"We're still looking."
I covered my mouth.
Salvatore touched the table to get my attention.
When I looked up, he signed, What did she say?
I told him.
His jaw tightened.
Then he signed, Danny may have escaped. Don't assume the worst.
I wanted to believe him.
An hour later, Detective Mitchell called again.
Danny had been found at a twenty-four-hour diner three blocks from our apartment.
He was frightened.
Shaking.
But unharmed.
I started crying before the detective finished speaking.
Salvatore quietly passed me a tissue.
I didn't remember taking it.
When I reached the diner, Danny ran toward me.
He wrapped his arms around my waist.
I held him so tightly he laughed nervously.
Can't breathe, Lily, he signed.
I pulled back.
Are you hurt?
He shook his head.
No.
What happened?
His smile disappeared.
He told me he'd seen two men waiting outside our building.
One followed him into the lobby.
The other carried a photograph of our father.
Danny recognized danger and escaped through the rear stairwell.
He'd hidden his phone, then slipped into the diner where an employee helped him contact police.
I squeezed his hands.
You did exactly the right thing.
He looked down.
Then signed something that made my stomach tighten.
They asked about Dad's toolbox.
I froze.
Our father's toolbox sat beneath Danny's bed.
Old.
Rusty.
Filled with equipment we hadn't used in years.
"Why would they want that?" I whispered.
Danny looked toward Detective Mitchell.
Then signed slowly.
Because Dad told me never to let anyone open the bottom compartment.
I stopped breathing.
Danny had never mentioned that before.
When did he tell you?
His eyes filled.
The night he left.
My throat tightened.
Danny had been only thirteen.
I'd been nineteen.
Mom had already died.
I'd spent that evening working a double shift.
And Danny had been alone with Dad when he disappeared.
What else did he say? I asked.
Danny swallowed.
Then signed the words that changed everything.
He said if the men with the silver wolf came back, we should never tell them our last name.
May you like
I felt cold.
Because the silver wolf was the emblem embroidered inside Salvatore Marquette's suit jacket.
