Chapter 32

PHILADELPHIA, PENNSYLVANIA

Shane O’Leary threads through the mourners like a zombie. The wake at their estate is packed with black suits and black dresses and black hearts on this black night. It’s not a traditional Catholic vigil. Anthony’s casket isn’t there. No priest blathering on. They’re lapsed Catholics, after all. A server offers him hors d’oeuvres from a silver tray and he declines.

He sees Gina in the far corner of the grand room near the Steinway. He flashes to an image of Gina and Anthony sitting on the piano bench, her showing him how to play something. It’s too much, he can’t do this.

Someone stops, says something, and he nods. It’s like he’s out of his body. He needs a drink. He slips into the hallway and past Brian, his hulk of a brother, who stands at the foot of the spiral staircase. Security at a wake—what a sacrilege. But it’s for the best. In his business, some are bound to view this as an opportunity. A chink in the armor. If he can’t protect his own son…

Upstairs, he heads into his private study. It’s the only room Anthony wasn’t allowed in. The only room O’Leary won’t be slammed in the heart by memories of his little boy.

He doesn’t turn on the light. He just heads over to the bar cart and pours himself a Macallan—expensive stuff that someone gave him as a gift. And he falls into the leather chair.

He eyes his big, expensive desk. Gina found it at some auction house. He couldn’t believe how much she paid for it. And he’s never told her about having a gun holster mounted under it.

He chokes back a sob, knowing that Anthony used one of O’Leary’s own guns. He was usually so careful. This was normally the only place in the house he kept firearms. He left a Glock in the bedside table one time, after they’d fed that Sabatino soldier to the fish and feared retaliation, and Anthony must’ve found it. One goddamned time.

There’s a tap on the door.

“Go away,” O’Leary calls out.

“Boss, you have a moment?” Chaz’s voice comes from behind the door.

The door opens a crack, Chaz pokes his head in. He has dark circles under his eyes that match the suit. “Sorry to bother you, boss. Gina asked if I’d check on you.”

“What? She think I’m gonna off myself too?”

“No, I think she—”

“Come on in. Get a drink, take a seat, my friend.”

Chaz pours himself a glass, takes one of the fine wicker chairs that are more decorative than functional, and pulls it close to O’Leary.

They sit quietly for a long while. O’Leary has always appreciated that Chaz is one of those guys who talks only when they have something to say. Unlike the rest of the nitwits in the crew.

“You hear from the computer guy?” O’Leary asks.

Chaz shifts in his chair. “I did, Shane.” He rarely calls O’Leary by his first name even though Chaz has known him since he was a boy, was his dad’s top man. Chaz could treat O’Leary like a kid, but he doesn’t. He shows respect.

“And…”

“How about we talk about it tomorrow, after the funeral?”

“I want to know now.”

Chaz retrieves a cell phone from his jacket’s inside pocket. “Anthony’s phone didn’t tell us much. He deleted a lot of what was on it. But our guy managed to find some texts. He was being bullied.”

O’Leary feels the temperature of his blood bubble, his breath shorten. He takes a drink, lets Chaz continue.

“It gets worse.” Chaz swallows. “Our guy got into the headmaster’s computer and phone. The school knew—and the headmaster and some parents covered it up.”

O’Leary listens in a haze. About weeks of relentless bullying. About a video of his son. About a report to the school about it. About the slap on the wrists to the kids who did it. About powerful people making sure it stayed quiet.

“You have the video?”

“Shane, you don’t want to—”

“Show me the goddamned video!”

Chaz looks down at his lap, then fiddles with his phone.

O’Leary feels the tears streaming down his face as he watches. He can’t seem to swallow, to say anything. He feels a cocktail of unbridled sadness and rage.

Gina’s standing in front of him talking now, a concerned look on her face. Chaz is saying something to her, but O’Leary can’t make out the words. Then he sees her rip the phone away from Chaz and slide to the floor in devastation.