“You signed off on an emergency removal petition?” Dominic asked.

His voice rose slightly, just enough to show the crack in his shell.

“Under whose authority?”

Another pause.

“I am the father,” Dominic said, his words slow and dangerous.

“I have not declared her unfit.”

He listened for another three seconds before slamming the phone down on the console.

“He hung up on me,” Dominic said.

He sounded surprised, as if the concept of someone ignoring his call was entirely new.

“Arthur has been our family lawyer for twenty years,” Dominic muttered.

“He answers to your mother, Dominic,” I said.

My heart was hammering against my ribs.

“He always has.”

Marco turned onto Lafayette Street, accelerating through a yellow light.

“We have a tail,” Marco said.

I looked back through the rear window.

A dark sedan was two cars behind us, moving through the traffic with practiced ease.

“Is it Caterina’s men?” I asked.

“Could be,” Marco said.

“Or it could be the police.”

“They wouldn’t send police for a simple welfare check,” Dominic said.

“They would if Judge Whitmore signed the warrant,” I said.