Dust.
Sweat.
Stale air.
Then something heavier fell against the door from the other side.
Adrian caught it.
A man.
Thin.
Bearded.
Hair long and tangled.
Wearing an old charcoal coat stained with dirt.
His face turned toward the light.
Adrian dropped the fire poker.
The man’s eyes opened.
Gray-green.
The same as their mother’s.
Adrian’s knees nearly failed.
“No.”
The man tried to speak.
His lips were cracked.
“Adri…”
Adrian stumbled backward.
Mia stood frozen in the hallway.
The stranger dragged one breath.
“Don’t…”
Adrian stared at a face aged by twelve years he had never witnessed.
A scar ran from the right temple into the hairline.
His nose had been broken once, perhaps more.
He was thinner than Julian had ever been.
But the shape of his mouth—
The line of jaw—
The eyes—
Impossible.
The man whispered:
“Don’t call Mercer.”
Then collapsed.
Adrian caught his brother before his head struck the floor.
For several seconds the house contained no sound except Mia crying quietly behind him.
Adrian lowered the man.
“Julian?”
No response.
“Julian!”
Mia whispered:
“Mr. Duca?”
Adrian looked up.
The sight of the child brought him back.
Grace.
The baby.
A possibly dying man.
He pulled out phone.
Called 911.
Then stopped before pressing dial.
Don’t call Mercer.
Why had Julian said that?
Daniel Mercer had arranged Julian’s funeral.
Daniel Mercer had stood beside Adrian’s father while the coffin was lowered.
Daniel Mercer had handed Adrian the folded American flag? No, Julian wasn't military, no flag. He had handed him his mother’s handkerchief. He had done everything.
Adrian called emergency services.
Not Daniel.
By 2:11 a.m., the Duca house was full of paramedics.
Grace Harper was found unconscious on a narrow couch beside the basement laundry room.
Temperature 103.1.
Breathing shallow.
She had pneumonia and severe dehydration.
According to one paramedic, she should never have been at work.
Mia burst into tears when they lifted her mother onto a stretcher.
Adrian crouched a careful distance away.
“Mia.”
She hugged the baby tighter.
“I didn’t finish.”
Adrian felt something inside himself crack.
“Look at me.”
She did.
“Your mother is not losing her job.”
Mia’s lower lip trembled.
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Even if she can’t come tomorrow?”
“She is not coming tomorrow.”
Fear flashed.
Adrian corrected:
“Because she’s going to a hospital and getting better.”
“Then she comes back when she is well.”
“Not before.”
Mia stared.
“Miss Kettering—”
“Works for a company I hire.”
Mia did not understand corporate contracting.
Adrian simplified.
“She does not get to decide this tonight.”
“Okay?”
The child nodded slowly.
Paramedics asked who would accompany the children.
Adrian realized he had no legal authority over them.
He called Grace’s emergency contact from the employment file.
A woman named Denise Harper answered on the third ring.
Grace’s older sister.
She lived in Dorchester.
She arrived twenty-four minutes later wearing pajama pants beneath a winter coat and looked ready to fight anyone between herself and her nieces.
Good.
Adrian trusted her instantly.
Denise took Mia and Lily to the hospital.
Before leaving, Mia looked back toward Adrian.
“Is that really your brother?”
Adrian looked at the second stretcher.
He did not know.
“Yes,” he said.
Then corrected himself.