Chapter 6 - He Found Her Too Late
The memory card contained eleven photographs.
Every one showed pages from an old ledger.
Names.
Dates.
Shipping containers.
Payments.
The records connected Vincent Russo, Patrick Walsh, Thomas Hayes and several men who were now dead.
But one name appeared repeatedly.
Arthur Pierce.
Daniel Pierce’s father.
And beside the final payment was another name.
Walter Hayes.
Khloe’s father.
Leo scrolled.
“Walter wasn’t just a gambler.”
“No.”
“He knew all of them.”
Damian stared at the final photograph.
A handwritten sentence appeared at the bottom.
T.H. retained original evidence.
Thomas Hayes.
Khloe’s grandfather—or relative.
“What did they do?” Leo asked.
Damian looked at the shipping codes.
“Twenty-three years ago there was a dock fire.”
Leo remembered.
“Four workers died.”
“Officially.”
“You think this is about that?”
“My father and Walsh’s feud started the same year.”
They traced the ledger’s address codes.
One led to an abandoned textile factory in Greenpoint owned through a Pierce company.
Damian took six men.
No warning.
No calls.
No electronic devices except Leo’s encrypted radio.
They entered through three points simultaneously.
This time no one escaped.
Two guards surrendered.
One tried to run.
Damian ignored all of them.
He heard something upstairs.
A chair scraping.
Then a woman shouting.
Khloe.
Damian took the stairs two at a time.
“KHLOE!”
A door slammed.
He reached the second floor.
Daniel Pierce stood near a window.
Khloe was across the room, wrists tied but standing.
Her face was bruised.
Blood stained one sleeve.
Damian raised his weapon.
Pierce pulled Khloe toward him.
“Drop it.”
Damian froze.
Khloe looked at him.
Not frightened.
Furious.
“Don’t.”
Pierce tightened his grip.
“Tell him where the original ledger is.”
“I don’t know.”
“You photographed it.”
“I found copies.”
“Liar.”
Damian spoke.
“Let her go.”
Pierce laughed nervously.
“You have no idea what she found.”
“I don’t care.”
Khloe’s eyes flickered toward Damian.
Pierce noticed.
“That’s the problem with you Russos. You only care when it becomes personal.”
Damian’s voice remained cold.
“It became personal when you touched her.”
Pierce looked toward the hallway.
He expected help.
None came.
Leo had already secured the floor.
For one second Pierce was distracted.
Khloe drove her heel backward into his shin.
He lost balance.
Damian moved.
The next moments happened quickly.
Leo pulled Khloe away.
Pierce hit the floor.
Damian pinned him.
“You’re going to tell me everything.”
Pierce laughed despite the pain.
“No.”
Damian leaned closer.
“Why?”
“Because you’re too late.”
Those words hit harder than they should have.
Damian looked at Khloe.
She was alive.
Standing.
“What does that mean?”
Pierce smiled.
“Ask her.”
Khloe’s face changed.
Damian stood.
“Khloe?”
Her knees suddenly buckled.
Leo caught her.
Blood spread across the back of her blouse.
Damian’s entire body went cold.
He had not seen the wound.
“Khloe.”
Her eyes struggled to focus.
“They moved me before,” she whispered. “One of them… stabbed me when I fought.”
Damian caught her as she collapsed.
“Call an ambulance!”
Leo was already shouting into the radio.
Khloe’s hand gripped Damian’s sleeve.
“Listen.”
“No.”
“Damian.”
“You’re going to tell me later.”
“Listen.”
Her voice weakened.
“Your father didn’t steal from Walsh.”
Damian stared at her.
“He saved something.”
“What?”
Khloe’s eyes closed.
“People.”
Then she stopped responding.
“Khloe?”
No answer.
Damian touched her face.
“Khloe!”
The room erupted around him.
Leo calling paramedics.
Men dragging Pierce away.
Someone applying pressure to Khloe’s wound.
Damian heard none of it clearly.
For the first time in his adult life, he begged.
“Open your eyes.”
Nothing.
“Khloe.”
He held her hand.
“Open your eyes and you can insult me for the rest of my life.”
Still nothing.
“Please.”
Sirens approached.
Damian stayed beside her all the way to the hospital.
Doctors took her through double doors.
He tried to follow.
A nurse stopped him.
“You have to wait.”
“I’m going in.”
“You cannot.”
Leo caught Damian’s arm.
“Let them work.”
Damian turned toward him.
The look on his face made Leo release him immediately.
But Damian stopped.
He sat in the waiting room.
One hour.
Then two.
At 7:16 p.m., a surgeon entered.
“Mr. Russo?”
Damian stood.
“She lost a significant amount of blood.”
His heart stopped.
“But she’s alive.”
Damian exhaled.
The surgeon continued.
“We repaired the damage. The next several hours matter.”
“Can I see her?”
“In a little while.”
Damian nodded.
Then the surgeon asked:
“Are you family?”
Damian looked through the glass toward the hallway where Khloe had disappeared.
“No.”
The word felt wrong.
At 9:03 p.m., he sat beside her hospital bed.
Khloe was unconscious.
Machines surrounded her.
For three years, she had stood beside his desk every morning, arguing over contracts, schedules and mistakes.
Damian had never imagined the silence could hurt this much.
He reached for her hand.
“I was late.”
Her fingers did not move.
He lowered his head.
“I should have known.”
Outside the room, Leo appeared.
He did not enter.
“Damian.”
Damian looked up.
Leo held an envelope.
“What?”
“Daniel Pierce talked.”
“Already?”
“He thinks someone is going to kill him.”
“Maybe someone is.”
“He gave us a name.”
Damian stood.
“Who?”
Leo hesitated.
Then said:
“Walter Hayes.”
Damian stared at him.
Khloe’s father.
Leo held out the envelope.
“And there’s something else.”
Inside was a photograph taken three weeks earlier.
May you like
Walter Hayes stood beside Patrick Walsh.
And between them, smiling directly at the camera, was Nicolas Russo.
