Chapter 4 - The Missing Underboss
Frankie’s apartment was empty by the time Dominic’s men arrived. Closet half cleared. Cash gone. Phones destroyed. One passport missing. Sadie stood in the kitchen while security searched. “You suspended him and let him leave.” Dominic’s jaw tightened. “I did not expect him to run.”
“That is not a defense.” “No.” Elliot found a burner phone taped beneath a drawer. The last outgoing call was to an Indiana number. Sadie went cold. Indiana. The state where her father died. Dominic saw her face. “Do you recognize it?” “No.” They traced the number to a prepaid line registered near Gary.
No current subscriber. But historical tower records, obtained through Mara’s legal contacts, showed activity near the town where Thomas’s body had been found. That was enough to turn suspicion into urgency. Sadie wanted to drive there immediately. Dominic refused. “No.” She stared. “Excuse me?” “Frankie is armed and desperate.”
“So am I.” “You are not going alone.” “I didn’t say alone.” “I’m coming.” “That is not what I asked.” Dominic stopped. Old habit. Decision first. Conversation second. He took a breath. “Do you want me to come?” Sadie studied him. “Yes.” Good. They drove to Indiana with Elliot and two independent investigators chosen by Mara, not Russo security.
That was Sadie’s condition. Dominic accepted. The town was smaller than she remembered from her mother’s stories. Thomas had been found behind an abandoned machine shop under the name Daniel Brooks. No wallet. No identification. Death ruled accidental blunt-force trauma after a fall. Sadie had seen the grave once with her mother.
Never the place. The retired deputy who handled the case met them reluctantly. He remembered Thomas. “Quiet man. Scared.” Sadie’s throat tightened. “Did he say who he was afraid of?” “No.” “Did anyone visit him?” The deputy thought. “One guy.” “What guy?” “Chicago type. Good coat. Loud car.”
Frankie. Maybe. The deputy found the old visitor log from the motel where Thomas stayed. F. Calder. Sadie stopped breathing. Dominic looked at the signature. Same handwriting. Frankie had followed Thomas to Indiana. The deputy continued. “He came twice.” “When?” “Day before the death. Day of.”
Sadie closed her eyes. There it was. No more theory. Frankie had been there. Dominic’s voice became dangerously calm. “Did anyone investigate him?” “No one knew the dead man was Thomas Bennett.” “Why not?” “He had documents under Brooks.” Sadie turned toward the window. Her mother had found the grave through a private investigator years later.
By then the case was cold. They requested the full file. Photographs. Scene notes. Autopsy. Thomas had bruising inconsistent with a simple fall. A broken wrist. Defensive injuries. The medical examiner had noted possible assault but lacked evidence. Sadie sat in the motel that night with the file open across the bed.
Dominic remained near the door. She looked at one photograph too long. He quietly closed the folder. Sadie glared. “Don’t.” “You’re shaking.” “I’m fine.” “You’re not.” “That does not give you permission to take it.” He removed his hand immediately. “Fair.” The word mattered. Sadie looked at him.
“You’re learning fast.” “I have a demanding wife.” “You have a temporary wife.” His expression shifted. The marriage had begun as leverage. They both knew that. Still, the correction hurt him. Good. Maybe. Sadie hated not knowing. At midnight, Elliot called. Frankie had contacted one of his old bookmakers asking for cash.
Chicago. He had returned. Dominic wanted to go back immediately. Sadie agreed. On the drive, they said little. Then Dominic spoke. “My uncle raised me after my father died.” Sadie looked over. “He taught me docks, money, loyalty.” “And crime.” “Yes.” “You trusted him.” “Yes.”
“Like you trusted Frankie.” “Yes.” Sadie turned back toward the road. “Trust seems expensive in your family.” Dominic smiled without humor. “You entered a cage because of a public promise made by a mafia boss.” “Good point.” He looked at her. “Why did your mother never come to me?”
“She hated you.” “Personally?” “She believed the Russos killed my father.” “Reasonable.” Sadie glanced at him. “You admit that easily.” “I’m trying to separate insult from evidence.” “Therapeutic.” “I hate it.” She laughed. That sound surprised both of them. Then Dominic said, “If Frankie killed Thomas, I won’t protect him.”
Sadie’s expression hardened. “I don’t want you to kill him.” Dominic looked at her. “I want him arrested.” “That is not how my world usually handles betrayal.” “Then your world is part of the problem.” Silence. Sadie continued. “If you kill him, I get revenge. If he talks, I get truth.”
Dominic stared ahead. “And if the truth damages me?” Sadie answered immediately. “Then you deserve damage.” He nodded. “Fair.” Back in Chicago, they found Frankie at an old warehouse on the river. Not hiding well. Waiting. That frightened Dominic more. Frankie stood inside Warehouse 9 with a gun on the table.
Not in his hand. When Sadie entered, his face crumpled. “You should have left it alone.” Sadie stopped twenty feet away. “My father didn’t.” “No.” “Did you kill him?” Frankie looked at Dominic. Then at Sadie. “I was supposed to scare him.” The room went silent.
Sadie’s voice barely moved. “What happened?” “He fought.” Her eyes burned. “Of course he fought.” Frankie looked down. “I hit him.” “How many times?” “I don’t remember.” “Lie.” “Three. Maybe four.” Sadie stopped breathing. Frankie continued. “He fell. Hit the concrete edge. He was still breathing.”
“Then?” “I panicked.” “Did you call an ambulance?” “No.” “Did you leave him there?” Frankie’s face twisted. “Yes.” Sadie closed her eyes. Eight years. Her mother dying without proof. Her father alone behind a machine shop. All because Frankie panicked. Dominic stepped forward. Frankie reached toward the gun.
Sadie shouted, “Don’t.” Both men froze. She looked at Dominic. “Police.” He stared. “Sadie.” “Police.” For several seconds, the old world fought the new one inside his face. Then Dominic stepped back. Elliot called Mara’s investigator. Frankie did not resist. That was how Sadie learned Dominic’s promise might have been the least important thing he ever gave her.
The more important one was restraint. Before police arrived at Warehouse 9, Sadie made Dominic step outside with her. “You cannot be in the room when he gives the formal statement.” Dominic looked offended. “Why?” “Because every prosecutor in Illinois will say he confessed under threat from you.” The logic annoyed him because it was correct.
May you like
He left. Frankie noticed. For the first time, Sadie understood the practical difference between justice and vengeance. Vengeance would have let Dominic stand over Frankie until he broke. Justice required Dominic to remove himself from the room. Mara’s investigator recorded the confession. The police recovered the gun, Thomas’s old employee badge, and a torn page from the red ledger Frankie had kept for years. On it, Thomas had written Frankie’s name beside a payment authorization from Vincent.
Frankie finally explained why he kept it. “Insurance.” Against Vincent. Against Dominic. Against everyone. That single word summarized the entire system. Everyone collected secrets because no one trusted process. Sadie looked at Dominic through the warehouse window. He looked back. They both understood the same thing: if The Vault and the docks continued operating through fear and private leverage, another Thomas would eventually happen.
