Chapter 15 - The Marion Proposition
The federal visiting room at USP Marion smelled of industrial floor stripper and stale coffee.
Enzo Moretti sat on the opposite side of the reinforced bulletproof partition, his orange jumpsuit three sizes too large.
His once-manicured hands were bruised and calloused, handcuffed to a welded steel ring on the counter.
His dark hair, formerly styled by Chicago’s most expensive barbers, had been roughly buzzed down to the scalp.
When he looked up and saw me sit down, his hollow eyes widened with a mixture of terror and desperate hope.
I picked up the black plastic telephone receiver on my side of the partition.
Enzo lifted his receiver with both chained hands, leaning his forehead against the scratch-resistant glass.
"Elena," he choked out, his voice cracked and raw.
"You came; I knew you wouldn't let them keep me in this hole."
"I didn't come to save you, Enzo," I said, my voice dead and emotionless through the receiver.
"I came to thank you for the key to Box 814."
Enzo flinched as if I had struck him across the face with a lead pipe.
"You found it," he whispered, swallowing hard.
"I found the tape," I said.
"I found the Swiss lab reports; I found the receipts for the poison you fed me with my morning tea."
Tears sprang to Enzo’s eyes, spilling over his gaunt cheeks.
"It wasn't my idea, Elena! You have to believe me!" he pleaded, his voice breaking into frantic sobs.
"Marco had loans on my shipping terminals; he threatened to have my mother and sister killed in Naples!"
"You gave me the cup, Enzo," I said, watching him weep without an ounce of pity.
"Every single morning, you kissed my forehead and watched me drink it."
"I diluted it!" Enzo screamed through the receiver, drawing the sharp glare of two armed correctional officers.
"I lowered the dose! Marco wanted you dead too! He wanted an embolism on the bathroom floor!"
"I saved your life, Elena! I made sure it only took the pregnancy!"
The horror of his words hung between us like toxic vapor.
He genuinely believed that murdering our child while sparing me was an act of mercy.
"You are a monster," I said softly.
"A small, pathetic coward who traded his daughter’s life for forty percent of a harbor."
Enzo pressed both palms against the glass, his face contorting into an ugly, desperate mask.
"Bianca is gone, Elena," he hissed, his eyes darting frantically toward the guards.
"What do you mean, gone?" I asked.
"She was taken during the transfer from Cook County three nights ago," Enzo whispered, his voice trembling with genuine terror.
"It wasn't a police transport accident; the Bellini family intercepted the van."
"Why would the Bellinis care about a discarded mistress?" I asked.
"Because Bianca wasn't mine, you idiot!" Enzo spat, saliva dotting the glass.
"Bianca was never mine! She was planted in my office eighteen months ago by Don Bellini himself!"
"She was the one who supplied the prostaglandin to Marco; she was the architect from day one!"
"And now that I’m locked away, the Bellinis have broken her out to finish what Marco couldn't."
I looked at Enzo through the glass, noting the blue bruises along his jawline and the hollow terror in his gaze.
He wasn't lying.
A man in a cage facing thirty years does not invent a ghost that can already reach through the bars.
"Thank you for the information, Enzo," I said calmly, hanging the receiver up on the hook.
"Elena! Don't leave me here! They’re going to kill me in general population! Elena!"
May you like
His screams were muffled behind the thick glass as I stood up, smoothed my coat, and walked toward the heavy steel exit.
***
