Chapter 5 - Sanctuary
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By noon, a private black town car had transported me to the Drake Hotel on Michigan Avenue.
Two men in charcoal suits, who introduced themselves only as Leo and Mateo, accompanied me up the private elevator.
The suite was larger than the entire floor of my apartment building.
Cream-colored carpets swallowed the sound of my limping footsteps.
Floor-to-ceiling windows offered an unobstructed panoramic view of Lake Michigan, shimmering blue beneath the crisp autumn sky.
On the king-sized bed lay four shopping bags from an upscale department store on Oak Street.
Inside were three pairs of soft cashmere trousers, silk blouses, warm woolen sweaters, and flat, orthopedic Italian leather loafers.
Everything was in my exact size.
A discreet envelope rested on the marble vanity in the bathroom, containing pain medication prescribed by a private physician who had already spoken to Dante.
I sat on the edge of the plush bed, holding a cashmere sweater against my chest.
For three years, every dime I earned had been counted down to the nickel.
I had worn thrift-store blouses with frayed collars, skipped dinners to buy bus passes, and washed my hair with dish soap when money ran out.
Now, surrounded by luxury, I felt like an impostor in a kingdom that did not belong to me.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
It was an unknown number.
I answered with a hesitant, "Hello?"
"Did the clothes fit?" Dante’s deep voice resonated through the receiver.
I gripped the phone tightly.
"Mr. Moretti, this is far too much."
"You didn't answer my question, Elena."
"Yes," I conceded softly. "They fit perfectly. How did you know my sizes?"
"Frank is observant," Dante replied. "And you were shivering in that thin coat when you arrived this morning."
"Thank you," I whispered, the sincerity heavy in my voice. "For the medicine, too."
"How does the ankle feel?"
"Better with the elevation and the ice."
"Good," Dante said. "A doctor will arrive at five to wrap it properly and check for hairline fractures."
"You don't have to do all this," I said, looking out at the endless lake.
"You barely know me."
"I know you took a beating on a concrete landing and still showed up to work because you refused to break a commitment," Dante said.
"I know you looked me in the eye and refused to lie, even when lying would have been easier."
"Loyalty and courage are rare commodities in my line of work, Elena."
"When I find them, I protect them."
There was a brief pause, filled only with the soft static of the line and the steady rhythm of his breathing.
"Get some rest," Dante added, his tone softening imperceptibly.
"Tomorrow, we close the ledger on Tony Brandt."
After hanging up, I took one of the pain pills and lay back against the sea of down pillows.
For the first time in thirty-six months, I did not have to listen for heavy footsteps in the hallway outside my door.
I did not have to calculate how many slices of bread were left in the plastic bag.
I closed my eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Three miles away, on 14th Street, a battered black sedan pulled up to the curb outside my apartment building.
Tony Brandt stepped out onto the sidewalk, lighting a menthol cigarette.
He checked his gold-plated watch.
May you like
It was two days before Friday, but he had spent the morning losing five thousand dollars at an underground poker table.
He needed cash, and he knew exactly which door to kick down to get it.
