Chapter 4 - The Judgment of Mateo
By three-thirty in the morning, Captain Thomas Vance of the 114th Precinct arrived at the warehouse alone.
He was a tall man in his late fifties with iron-grey hair, wearing a dark trench coat over his service uniform. He didn't bring back-up. He knew that if I wanted him dead, a precinct squad wouldn't save him anyway. He walked into the warehouse with his hands in his pockets, his posture rigid, his boots clicking against the concrete.
He looked at Miller lying zip-tied on the floor, then at Marco tied to the steel chair, and finally at me.
"Carmine," Vance said, his voice deep and weary. "You kidnapped one of my detectives."
"I brought you a criminal, Thomas," I answered, gesturing toward Miller. "This man took fifty thousand dollars to erase the evidence of a fatal hit-and-run that killed a seven-year-old girl in your precinct."
Vance's eyes narrowed. He looked down at Miller. "Is this true?"
Miller couldn't look his captain in the eye. He remained silent, trembling on the floor.
Tony stepped forward and handed Captain Vance a tablet displaying the recovered traffic camera footage and the financial transfer trail linking Marco's private account to Miller's offshore holding space.
Vance watched the video in silence. I saw his jaw muscles clench tight. I saw the vein in his temple bulge as he watched the dark blue Lincoln strike the child and speed away, followed by Miller's cruiser pulling into the frame minutes later.
When the video finished, Vance slowly handed the tablet back to Tony. He turned to Miller, reached down, unclipped the detective's badge from his belt, and threw it onto the concrete floor.
"You're a disgrace to the uniform, Miller," Vance said, his voice shaking with restrained rage. "You're going to spent the rest of your natural life in a maximum-security state prison. And I'll personally make sure you're placed in general population."
Miller burst into tears, begging his captain for help, but Vance turned his back on him and walked toward me.
"What about Marco Ricci?" Vance asked, looking at the underboss tied to the chair. "He drove the car."
"Marco is an internal matter," I said flatly. "He violated the core law of my family. He doesn't belong to the state."
Vance stared at me for a long moment. He knew the rules of the neighborhood. He knew that pushing me on Marco would spark a war between the department and my organization that neither side wanted.
"Give me Miller and the digital evidence," Vance said carefully. "I'll hold a press conference at six AM announcing the arrest of Detective Miller for official corruption and vehicular manslaughter accomplice charges. The Vasquez family will get their justice in court for the cover-up."
"Agreed," I said. "Paulie, put Miller in the back of the Captain's car."
Paulie hauled Miller up by his armpits and dragged him out into the night. Captain Vance tipped his hat to me, gave Bruno a solemn glance, and followed them out.
When the doors closed, only Marco, Tony, Bruno, and I remained in the dark warehouse.
"Bring Mateo Vasquez here," I told Tony.
"Boss..." Tony hesitated. "Mateo is a civilian. A restaurant owner. He's never seen blood like this."
"He lost his daughter, Tony," I said, my voice echoing in the empty space. "He deserves to decide how her killer pays the debt."
An hour later, Mateo Vasquez stepped into the warehouse. He was pale, his eyes swollen from crying, his hands tucked deep into the pockets of his faded jacket. He looked small, broken, devastated by the weight of a grief that no man should ever have to carry.
He walked over to Marco, who sat helpless in the steel chair.
"Mateo..." Marco whispered, tears leaking from his eyes. "I'm sorry... I swear to God I'm sorry..."
Mateo didn't speak. He reached out and touched the edge of Marco's chair, staring into the face of the man who had left his little girl dying on 104th Street.
I walked over and placed a nickel-plated .38 revolver into Mateo's hand.
"It's loaded, Mateo," I whispered in his ear. "He took Elena from you. No one in this town will ever question what you do right now. The decision is yours."
Mateo held the heavy iron gun in his trembling hands. He raised it slowly, pointing the barrel directly between Marco's eyes. Marco squeezed his eyes shut, sobbing hysterically, praying under his breath.
The warehouse was dead quiet. Even Bruno stood still, watching the father's hand.
For two minute, Mateo stood there, his thumb resting on the hammer of the gun. His entire body shook with fury, grief, and pain.
Then, slowly, Mateo lowered the gun.
He turned to me, his eyes full of tears, and handed the weapon back into my palm.
"If I kill him," Mateo whispered, his voice cracking, "I become like him. Elena... Elena wouldn't want her father to have blood on his hands. She was pure, Don Carmine. She was good."
May you like
Mateo looked at Marco one last time, his voice filled with a quiet, devastating power. "Let him live with what he did. Put him where he can never see the sun again."
Mateo turned and walked out of the warehouse, his shoulders slumped, carrying his grief back into the cold night air.
