“Please mister, buy this painting so we can buy bread,” three dirty triplets begged. The billionaire mafia boss stared at the canvas, his heart stopping. The woman painted on it was the wife he mourned for years. With shaking hands, he pulled out a black card and whispered, “Take me to her.”
and a grudge against you.” Luca tapped the envelope. “He knew she was in Boston, Dante. He knew about the triplets.”
I ripped the flap open. A dozen 8×10 glossies spilled out. Elena walking out of a free clinic. The girls walking to a public elementary school, wearing oversized backpacks. A telephoto shot of Elena at the Roxbury shelter.
