THE LITTLE GIRL ASKED TO SIT WITH A STRANGER—BUT HER MOTHER NEVER EXPECTED THE MAFIA BOSS TO RECOGNIZE HER FACE

sooner. Harder.”

Clara pressed a hand flat against her chest.

“Then what do we do?”

By eight the next morning, the kitchen of the Cambridge safe house had become a war room.

Maps of Boston and the South Shore covered the small wooden table. A laptop glowed beside a fresh pot of coffee. Gray morning light seeped through the back windows.

Eli stood with a continue reading …