Chapter 9 - Forty-Eight Front Doors|
I had never visited Hawthorne Court before that Saturday.
I knew Chicago had neighborhoods where people worked two jobs to keep a roof over their heads.
I knew there were families who could barely afford groceries after paying rent.
But knowing those things wasn't the same as standing in front of forty-eight homes and realizing someone was trying to take them away.
The buildings stood along a narrow residential street lined with old maple trees.
Their redbrick walls showed years of Chicago winters.
Some windows had flower boxes.
Others displayed faded American flags.
A bicycle leaned against the front railing of one building.
A small wooden sign beside the entrance read, "Hawthorne Court Community."
Luca stood beside me, looking at the buildings in silence.
Marco had insisted we bring security.
Naomi had insisted we coordinate our visit with the residents' legal representatives.
After what happened to Mercer, nobody wanted another surprise.
Lucia had agreed to meet us there with an independent security escort.
She emerged from the first building wearing her familiar navy cardigan.
"You're late," she told Luca.
He glanced at his watch.
"Four minutes."
"Four minutes matters when someone's trying to steal your home."
For the first time that week, Luca almost smiled.
She led us inside.
The lobby smelled of fresh coffee and lemon cleaner.
A noticeboard displayed community announcements, volunteer schedules, and handwritten birthday cards.
I paused beside a photograph of several elderly residents standing around a birthday cake.
Lucia noticed.
"We celebrate everyone's birthday here."
"That's lovely."
She smiled.
"Some of us don't have families nearby anymore."
She walked toward the stairs.
"But we have each other."
On the second floor, she introduced us to Gloria Whitfield.
Gloria was seventy-four years old, with silver braids and bright pink slippers.
She had worked as a public school teacher for thirty-six years.
Her husband had died five years earlier.
She greeted Lucia warmly.
Then she saw Luca.
Her smile vanished.
"You're Salvatore's boy."
Luca nodded.
"Yes, ma'am."
Gloria folded her arms.
"Your father promised nobody would ever put us out again."
"I know."
"Now a company says we have thirty days to leave."
Naomi stepped forward.
"We believe the notices are based on fraudulent documents."
Gloria looked at her.
"That doesn't answer where I'm supposed to sleep if someone changes the locks."
The room became silent.
Luca took a slow breath.
"Mrs. Whitfield, I'm here to help stop that."
She studied his expensive suit.
"Men like you always say they'll help."
Luca lowered his eyes.
"Then don't believe me because I said it."
He looked around her small apartment.
"Believe what we can prove and what we're willing to do."
I glanced toward the mantelpiece.
There were photographs of Gloria with former students.
A framed teaching certificate hung beside a small portrait of her late husband.
This wasn't a piece of real estate.
This was a life.
Gloria noticed me staring at the photographs.
"My husband built that shelf."
Her voice softened.
"He wasn't very good with tools, but I told him it was beautiful."
I smiled.
"It is beautiful."
She laughed quietly.
"He'd be happy someone finally agreed with me."
Then her expression became serious.
"If they make me leave, I don't know where I'd go."
Those words followed me for the rest of the afternoon.
In another apartment, we met a night-shift nurse who had lived there since nursing school.
Downstairs, an older veteran showed Luca a garden he had planted beside the parking area.
A woman named Rosa Alvarez explained that her neighbors helped her with groceries after her knee surgery.
Every doorway held another story.
Every hallway connected people who depended on one another.
Luca listened to all of them.
He didn't interrupt.
He didn't make speeches.
He simply listened.
By the time we returned to the courtyard, his face had changed.
He looked toward Lucia.
"My father knew these people?"
"Most of them."
"Did he come here often?"
"More often than you might think."
She gestured toward the little garden.
"He helped Rafael build those raised flower beds."
Luca stared at the wooden planters.
Then he shook his head.
"I never knew."
Lucia studied him.
"Your father was ashamed of what he'd done."
She paused.
"But being ashamed isn't the same as making amends."
Luca nodded.
"I understand that now."
A young woman approached us holding a stack of notices.
Her name was Tessa Morgan, and she helped coordinate the residents' association.
"Mr. Moretti, can you explain these?"
She handed Luca the papers.
Each notice claimed that serious building safety concerns might require immediate evacuation.
Naomi examined them.
Her expression hardened.
"These weren't issued through the normal notification process."
Tessa looked frightened.
"Someone taped them to every door this morning."
"Who?"
"We don't know."
Luca studied the notices.
The logo belonged to a private inspection company associated with Briarstone Development.
A chill went through me.
Mercer had warned us about creating an emergency.
Now someone was preparing the residents to believe one was inevitable.
"Have the buildings actually been inspected?" I asked.
Tessa shook her head.
"Not by anyone we recognize."
Naomi began making calls to verify the documents with the city.
Luca turned toward Marco.
"I want additional lighting and legitimate emergency safety services arranged with the residents' permission."
Marco nodded.
"And the police?"
"Give them copies of every threat."
I watched Luca as he spoke.
For years, I had assumed his power came from making people afraid.
Today, he seemed to be discovering that protecting people required something far more difficult.
It required earning their trust.
As we prepared to leave, Gloria appeared in the courtyard.
She held a small paper bag.
"Miss Bennett?"
I turned.
"Yes?"
She handed me the bag.
Inside were two homemade oatmeal cookies.
"Lucia told me about that poor dog."
I felt my throat tighten.
"Thank you."
Gloria smiled.
"I hope he's getting better."
"He is."
"Good."
She glanced at Luca.
"Your father loved him."
Then she looked back at me.
"And any woman who gives her own coat to a freezing dog has a decent heart."
I wanted to thank her.
But my emotions were already too close to the surface.
Gloria patted my hand.
"Take care of yourself too, honey."
We were almost at the car when a loud mechanical hum echoed from the buildings.
The courtyard lights flickered.
Then the windows went dark.
One after another, the six buildings lost power.
Tessa looked up.
"That's strange."
Marco checked his phone.
"The utility company hasn't reported an outage in this area."
A cry came from an upstairs window.
Then another.
I turned toward the buildings.
"Someone's trapped in the elevator!"
Luca was already running toward the entrance.
Behind us, Naomi looked at the suspicious notices in her hands.
May you like
Her face turned pale.
The emergency Mercer had warned us about had begun.
