It was a
holiday weekend, and the town was packed
with tourists. We couldn’t risk a mass
evacuation. It complicated things.
At 3:15, a sniper spotted him near the east
end of Main Street. He was wearing a
baseball cap and a mask, probably picking up
supplies. Our undercover units moved in. Just
as they were about to grab him, a parade of
lion dancers started banging their drums. Sal
bolted. The market erupted into chaos. Stalls
overturned, people screaming, a wave of
bodies surging through the narrow streets. I
watched from the surveillance van, my fists
clenched. The Chief kept a firm hand on my
arm.
Then, word came through. Suspect
apprehended. We all breathed a sigh of relief.
Then the camera zoomed in. It wasn’t Sal.
We’d grabbed the wrong guy.
<
“Clear the area!” I yelled, grabbing the
Chief’s arm. Too late.
The first bomb detonated at the east
intersection, sending a fireball into the air. I
jumped out of the van, ignoring the Chief’s
shouts, and pushed my way against the tide.
of fleeing people. My arm throbbed. Where
would Sal be? Somewhere hidden, with a
clear view of the carnage. And he wouldn’t
care about his own safety. I looked at the
burning teahouse at the center of the chaos. I
handed a crying child to a nearby officer, then
headed for the teahouse.
I soaked a handkerchief with water from the
bar and covered my mouth and nose. The
building creaked and groaned around me. My
arm screamed in protest. Debris rained down,
and I pressed myself against the wall, the
heat scorching my skin. Suddenly, I was
yanked into someone’s arms. A familiar voice
whispered in my ear. “Long time no see.”
I spun around, hitting him hard in the ribs. It
hadn’t been long at all. But it felt like a
lifetime. We fought, the floor shaking beneath
- us. “You’re a pretty good fighter, Liv,” Sal said, grinning. “Had to be, to deal with all those unruly…employees.”
I shoved him to the ground. He looked up at
me, still smiling. I reached for my cuffs, but
he flipped me over, pinning me down. He was
toying with me, pulling his punches, careful
not to hurt my arm. Even now, he was
showing me…mercy.
“Do you hate me, Livia?” he asked, his voice
soft. We were both exhausted. I leaned
against the counter, trying to catch my
breath. He stood up, swaying slightly. “I had a
friend, once. After juvie. I trusted him. He dragged me behind his car for two miles. I hate…betrayal. And you…you stomped on my
<
heart.” He pulled out his gun. One bullet left.
He pointed it at my chest. “Goodbye, Livia.”
“Look out!” I screamed. The ceiling above him
collapsed. He fell, the floor crumbling beneath
him. I lunged forward, grabbing his wrist. He
dangled precariously, his weight pulling me
down with him. “What are you doing?! Are
you crazy?! Let go!” He looked at me, his
eyes wide with disbelief. “Why are you saving
me? Let go, Livia! You’ll die too!”
I held on tight, my arm burning, blood
mingling with the dust and debris. His voice
softened, tinged with desperation. “Please…
let go. You’ll die…Livia. Why?”
Why? Because I was a cop. Because saving a
life, even his, was the only way to wash the
blood off my hands. “Live, Sal! Live and face
what you’ve done!”
I tried to pull him up, but the floor gave way
beneath me. We fell together.
く
I regained consciousness sometime later.
We’d landed on a pile of furniture, cushioning
the fall. I couldn’t move. Sal, however, was
already sitting up. He wiped the blood from
his face, then reached for my belt. I glared at
him, my body screaming in protest. He pulled
out my handcuffs, cuffing my wrist to his. He
dragged me towards the exit, his body
battered and bruised. The fire raged around
- us.
“Sal…” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “Will
you confess?”
He squeezed my hand. “Yes,” he said. I
closed my eyes, a wave of relief washing over
- me. I felt him wipe the blood from my hand, a
futile gesture. He was crying. “I wish…I wish
your hands were clean, Livia.”
I couldn’t feel the heat anymore. Couldn’t
speak. But I heard the sirens. The blessed
sound of sirens.
く
“Two hospital visits in one month, Captain
Chen. That’s gotta be a new record.” My
partner nudged me, grinning.
It was a big day. Three months and four days
after the teahouse collapse, I was finally
leaving the hospital. I’d been lucky to survive.
And today…today was Sal’s sentencing.
My partner drove me to the courthouse. We
sat in the back of the gallery. I hadn’t seen
Sal since that day. He looked…smaller,
somehow. The evidence was overwhelming.
He’d confessed to everything. His empire had
crumbled. The city was finally breathing
again.
The judge read the verdict. “The defendant, Salvatore Demarco, is found guilty of
racketeering, homicide, assault, kidnapping,
arson, and numerous other offenses. This
court sentences you…to death.”
I gripped the railing. my breath catching in my
I gripped the railing, my breath catching in my
throat. They led Sal away. He turned at the
bottom of the steps. “Livia,” he called out.
Our eyes met. His gaze was unreadable, a
mixture of pain, regret, and something…else.
He asked me, his voice barely a whisper, “Did
you…did you ever…love me?”
“Sal, look at this,” I said, tapping the badge
pinned to my jacket. “This is my badge. It
represents everything I am. My love is for this
city, for the law, for justice. That’s my
answer.”
I turned and walked away, towards the
sunlight streaming through the courthouse
doors. Someone called my name. Sal, maybe.
Or maybe it was someone else. I didn’t look
back. Not then. Not ever.
