Chapter 7: The Last DeLuca Chooses a Different Way
Agent Dana Kowalski arrived at the DeLuca estate at 5:47 a.m.
in a dark sedan with two other agents and a federal prosecutor named Holt who had the focused, unhurried manner of someone who had been waiting for exactly this phone call for a very long time.
Julian met them at the door.
He handed Holt a folder.
Inside: Elena Vasquez's copied records, the chemist Reyes's account information, the ballroom security footage Marcus had pulled, and a signed statement from Thomas Bell detailing everything he had known and failed to act on, including the name of the household contact Victor had used to intercept Claire's letters.
Holt opened the folder, looked at the first page, and looked up at Julian.
"This is comprehensive," he said.
"I want it done correctly," Julian said.
"Everything through proper channels.
I want a case that holds."
Kowalski studied Julian's face.
She had been building a file on the DeLuca family for six years.
She had interviewed him twice.
She had never been able to determine whether he was a man who operated above the law or simply one who had learned to move so carefully that the law could not find its footing.
"You understand," she said, "that some of what's in this folder raises questions about operations connected to your own family."
"I understand."
"And you're handing it to us anyway."
"There is a four-year-old girl asleep upstairs," Julian said.
"She is Claire Arden's daughter.
She is my daughter.
I am not going to build her life on the same foundation that got her mother kjlled." He paused.
"Whatever that costs me, it costs me."
Kowalski looked at him for a long moment.
Then she nodded.
Victor DeLuca was taken into federal custody at 6:15 a.m.
from a warehouse in Bridgeport where Marcus's team had held him through the night.
He came out between two agents in a gray tracksuit, his silver hair uncombed, his face carrying the specific expression of a man who had spent decades believing he was untouchable and was now recalculating at speed.
He saw Julian standing by the car.
He stopped.
"You would burn your own family," Victor said.
"For a maid's child."
"She is not a maid's child," Julian said.
"She is my child.
And she has a name."
"You're making a mistake.
There are people connected to this operation who will not — "
"Victor." Julian's voice was very quiet.
"The folder I handed to the federal prosecutor this morning has enough in it to dismantle every connection you're about to threaten me with.
I spent four years building legal companies and closing down the operations that made this family vulnerable.
I did it carefully and I did it completely." He held Victor's gaze.
"There is nothing left for you to threaten me with."
Victor's mouth opened.
Then it closed.
The agents moved him forward.
He turned once more before they put him in the car.
"Claire came to me," he said.
"Did you know that?
She came to me first, asking for help.
She said she was afraid of what carrying a DeLuca child would mean for her safety.
She asked me to help her reach you quietly." His voice was almost conversational.
"I told her I would.
I told her to trust me."
Julian did not move.
"I want you to carry that," Victor said.
"She trusted me.
And she came to me because she was afraid of what this name would do to her.
Think about that."
The agent put a hand on Victor's shoulder and guided him into the car.
The door closed.
Julian stood in the early morning air.
The sky over the lake had gone from gray to the pale, colorless white that comes just before the first real light.
His hands were at his sides.
Still.
Cassandra appeared beside him.
She had found a coat somewhere.
She stood close but did not touch him.
"He wanted that to land," she said.
"It landed," Julian said.
"Does it change anything?"
He was quiet for a moment.
"It means she was more frightened than I knew.
It means she reached out to the wrong person because she didn't know who the right person was." He paused.
"It means I should have made it clearer.
That she could come to me.
That she didn't have to be afraid of my name."
"You can't carry that forever."
"No," he said.
"But I can carry it long enough to make sure Lily never has to."
Cassandra looked at the car pulling away.
Then she looked at Julian.
"Go inside," she said.
"Your daughter is going to wake up soon.
She's going to want breakfast.
And I suspect she's going to want to know where Percy the rabbit ended up."
Something shifted in Julian's face.
"He's on the kitchen table."
"Then you'd better go get him before she panics."
Julian looked at Cassandra — really looked at her, the way he had not had space to look at anyone since the night began.
"You are a remarkable person," he said.
"I know," she said.
May you like
"Go."
He went.
