Chapter 22: The Bus Station

Silvio left the city on a Tuesday, on the six-fifteen bus.

The family had decided it.

He could go with one suitcase and nothing else.

He could never be seen within a hundred miles of Falcone ground.

Dominic told me where and when. He did not ask me to come.

"I want to," I said.

"You don't have to see him again."

"I know."

"Then why?"

"Because he put my ring in a box." I buckled the collar at the back of my neck myself. "I want to give it back."

He looked at me for a long moment. Then he went and got his coat.

The bus station was cold and half empty, with a row of orange seats and a coffee machine that didn't work.

Silvio sat on a bench under the departures board.

He was not in the grey cardigan. He wore a cheap brown windbreaker, and a pair of shoes I didn't think he had ever walked far in.

A small battered suitcase sat between his feet.

Two of the family's men stood a few yards back, with their hands folded.

He looked up as we came.

For a second I saw the whole man, every year of him. He was fifty-four and tired, and he had a bad knee.

I did not feel sorry for him.

"Miss Hayes," he said. "Boss."

Dominic stopped a pace in front of me.

I put my hand on his arm.

"Stay," I said, quietly.

He looked at me.

Then he stepped back, and folded his hands, and let me go forward alone.

I held out the white gift box.

The gold ribbon was still on it, a little crushed. The ring sat inside, and the note, in his small tidy hand.

"This is yours," I said.

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