The next morning, I met with Emily Costa at a diner in Queens.
She was already there when I arrived. Coffee in front of her. Folder on the table. The same folder with all the evidence about Brian's death.
"Thanks for meeting me," I said, sliding into the booth across from her.
"You have two days left. I hope you're here to tell me Dante agreed to testify."
"He did. He's willing. But I'm asking you not to make him do it."
Her expression hardened. "Why would I do that?"
"Because it'll get him killed. His family won't let him testify. They'll murder him before he ever makes it to a courtroom."
"That's his problem. He should have thought about that before he watched my brother die."
"Emily, please. I understand you want justice. Brian deserves justice. But there has to be another way.
