Chapter 2 - The Heartbeat in the Dark
The funeral director froze, his hands trembling violently as he reached for the brass latches of the white casket.
"Sir, please," the director whispered, his face drained of color. "This is highly improper. The family—"
"I said open it," I repeated, my voice dropping into a register that made two of my lieutenants step back.
Rosa Vasquez sobbed, burying her face into her husband’s chest. Tomas stared at me with wide, bloodshot eyes, torn between horror and a sudden, desperate flicker of hope that he didn't dare speak out loud.
Bruno didn't wait for the keys. He slammed his broad snout against the seam of the lid, whining frantically, his sharp claws scratching deep grooves into the white mahogany.
The director snapped the brass latches open. With a heavy creak, the lid swung back.
The scent of formal lilies and formaldehyde drifted into the air. Laying on the satin lining was little Elena. Her pale skin was powdered, her dark hair carefully curled, her hands folded neatly over a silver rosary. To any human eye, she was a corpse.
But Bruno didn't see with eyes. He thrust his large black nose directly against the child’s neck, his hot breath ruffling her small collar. He let out a sharp, ear-splitting bark, then turned his dark eyes back to me, whining aggressively.
I stepped up to the coffin. I reached down, placing two fingers against the side of her cold neck.
Nothing. No pulse. Her skin was chilly, stiff.
"Boss," Tony whispered nervously from behind me. "She’s gone. The coroner signed off three days ago. The dog is just confused by the scent."
"Bruno is never confused," I said softly.
I leaned down closer. I placed my ear directly over Elena’s chest.
At first, there was only the hum of the funeral home’s air conditioning. The muffled weeping of her mother. The heavy breathing of twelve armed mobsters in the room.
Then, beneath all of it, I heard it.
Thump.
It was so faint, so impossibly weak, it felt less like a heartbeat and more like a flutter of a bird's wing trapped beneath ice.
Thump... pause... thump.
"She’s alive," I breathed.
Tomas let out a strangled gasp. "What?"
"She’s alive!" I roared, grabbing the child under her shoulders and lifting her small, limp body out of the coffin. "Tony! Call Dr. Vance right now! Tell him to get his surgical team to the brownstone in ten minutes or I’ll gut him myself!"
"Boss, the hospital—" Tony began.
"No hospitals!" I yelled, pulling Elena close against my chest, wrapping my heavy trench coat around her freezing frame. "If Harlan and the coroner lied about her death, the hospitals are monitored. If they find out she’s breathing, they’ll finish the job. We move now!"
I whirled around toward Marco. My underboss was backed against the mahogany door, his hands trembling, realizing the nightmare he had created had just unraveled completely.
"Hold him," I barked at my two guards, Sal and Paulie. "Put him in the basement at the warehouse. Don't touch him until I get there. If he dies before I question him, I'll put both of you in the ground beside him."
"Dominic, please!" Marco screamed as Sal pinned his arms behind his back. "I didn't know! I swear to God I didn't know she was breathing!"
I ignored his pleas, pushing past the crowd and rushing through the heavy glass doors of the funeral home out into the rain. Bruno bounded right beside me, barking wildly, clearing a path through the bewildered onlookers on the sidewalk.
I threw open the rear door of my armored SUV, sliding onto the leather seat with the small, pale girl cradled securely in my arms.
"Drive!" I yelled to my driver. "Break every red light in Queens!"
The engine roared, tires screaming against the wet asphalt. I pressed my palm over Elena’s chest, feeling that fragile, erratic pulse beneath her ribs.
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"Stay with me, little girl," I muttered, my rough, scarred fingers brushing a strand of dark hair away from her pale forehead. "Your father owes me forty-two grand. I don't let anyone die until their debt is settled."
Beside me, Bruno rested his massive chin on my knee, his eyes fixed on Elena, letting out a soft, steady whimper that kept time with her dying heart.
