Chapter 3 - The Little Boy in the Window
The rain had turned into a steady, freezing downpour by the time Rafe’s convoy pulled up to a dilapidated three-story walk-up in South Boston. The building’s brick face was water-stained and peeling, the narrow front steps slick with moss.
Two of Rafe’s men were already stationed at the base of the stairs, standing under heavy black umbrellas, their suit coats buttoned tight over hidden firearms.
"Boss," one of them said, stepping forward as Rafe opened his car door. "The apartment is on the third floor. 3B. There's an older woman inside with the boy. A babysitter, looks like."
Rafe adjusted his coat and walked up the creaking wooden stairs, his polished boots echoing through the narrow, unheated hallway. The air smelled of old radiator steam and cheap cabbage. He stopped outside door 3B, looking at the faded brass numbers. Beside the door hung a tiny, hand-drawn sign made with blue crayon: Finn’s Fort.
Rafe knocked twice—firm, but not aggressive.
The lock clicked after a long pause. The door opened three inches, held back by a thin brass security chain. A woman in her late sixties with silver hair and a worn wool cardigan looked out at him, her eyes wide with instant suspicion.
"If you're here about the rent, Mave told the landlord she'd have the rest by Friday," the woman said defensively, her voice raspy. "She's working a double tonight at that fancy place downtown."
"I'm not the landlord, ma'am," Rafe said softly, taking a step back to show he posed no immediate physical threat. "My name is Rafe Colazo. I'm here on behalf of Mave."
The woman’s posture stiffened at the name Colazo. Everyone in South Boston knew the name. It was whispered in church pews and spoken in hushed tones in corner taverns.
"Is she hurt?" the woman asked immediately, her hands trembling as she unlatched the safety chain and opened the door wide. "Oh God... I told her she was working herself to death. I told her her body couldn't take it—"
"She was injured in an incident at the restaurant," Rafe said, stepping into the tiny, pristine apartment.
The place was small—a cramped living room that served as a kitchen and dining space—but it was spotless. The walls were painted a warm butter-yellow. Framed finger-paintings hung neatly along the hallway. In the corner sat a small plastic table with a half-finished puzzle of the solar system.
"Is she in the hospital?" the woman asked, tears welling in her eyes. "I'm Mrs. Gable. I live downstairs. I watch Finn when she works the night shifts."
"She is at my private residence being cared for by top surgeons," Rafe explained quietly. "Her injuries are stable, but she will be bedridden for several days. I came to secure her home and check on her son."
A small voice cut through the heavy quiet of the hallway.
"Is Mom coming home?"
Rafe turned his head. Standing in the doorway of a small bedroom was a boy no older than nine. He was frail—startlingly thin—wearing dark blue pajamas that hung loosely off his shoulders. His skin had a pale, bluish tint beneath his eyes, and he held a threadbare stuffed teddy bear tightly against his ribs. It was the same bear from the photograph.
Rafe looked at the child, feeling an unfamiliar knot tighten in his throat.
"You must be Finn," Rafe said, dropping to one knee so he was at eye level with the boy. It was the second time in six hours that Rafe Colazo had knelt—a man who hadn't bowed to a bishop or a judge in twenty years.
Finn didn't step back. He looked at Rafe’s sharp suit, at the faint scar along his jaw, and then at the winter-blue eyes looking back at him. Children raised in hard neighborhoods knew how to read adults better than most men; Finn saw no malice in the stranger.
"Where's my mom?" Finn asked, his small voice wobbling slightly despite his obvious effort to be brave. "She always calls me at nine to hear my bedtime story."
Rafe reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the photograph he had retrieved from the restaurant floor. He held it out to the boy.
"Your mother dropped this tonight," Rafe said softly. "She kept it close to her. She... she had an accident at work, Finn. She hurt her back."
Finn’s hand tightened around his bear. "Is her heart okay?"
"Her heart is fine," Rafe reassured him firmly. "She's sleeping right now. Doctors are making sure she doesn't feel any pain."
"Can I see her?"
May you like
Rafe looked at Mrs. Gable, who was wiping her eyes with her apron, then back at the frail boy whose chest was heaving with small, shallow breaths.
"Yes," Rafe said, standing up and reaching out his hand. "I'm going to take you to her right now. Pack your clothes, Finn. You and Mrs. Gable are coming to stay at my house until your mother can walk again."
