Page 14 of The Wrong Man

I breathe through my nose and push my errant thoughts back deep down where they belong. It’s time to work.

I approach Vinnie slowly, letting him see me. Letting the anticipation build.

“Mr. Vitelli,” I say calmly. “Do you know who I am?”

His face goes grey. “You’re... you’re Dante.”

“Good. Then you know why you’re here.”

“Please.” Tears are streaming down his face now. “Please, I have a family. I have children. I only did it because of the debts. Declan said no one would get hurt.”

“Declan lied.”

I select a tool from the table. A simple pair of pliers. Nothing fancy. Sometimes the classics are most effective.

“I’m going to ask you some questions,” I tell Vinnie. “Your answers will determine how quickly this ends.”

“I’ll tell you everything! I’ll tell you anything you want to know!” His words tumble over each other in his desperation. “Declan approached me six months ago. He knew about my gambling debts, knew I was desperate. He offered me fifty thousand to give him the shipping schedules. I didn’t know what he was planning, I swear I didn’t know about the Crown Jewels.”

I glance at Dylan. He’s watching with wide, horrified eyes. His chest is heaving with rapid, panicked breaths.

“Where is the tiara now?” I ask Vinnie, even though I already know what his answer is going to be.

“I don’t know! Declan never told me. He just took the information and disappeared. I haven’t heard from him since the night of the theft.” Vinnie’s eyes dart to my other prisoner. “Until now. Declan, please. Tell them where it is. They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill both of us.”

Dylan makes a muffled sound behind his gag. It might be a denial. It might be a plea. I can’t tell.

I turn back to Vinnie.

“I believe you,” I say.

Relief floods his face. “Thank you. Oh, thank you. I’ll do anything, I’ll...”

“I believe you don’t know where the tiara is.” I cut him off. “Unfortunately, that doesn’t change what happens next.”

The relief curdles into fresh terror.

“No. No, please. I told you everything I know. I cooperated. Please.”

“You betrayed the family.” My voice is flat. Professional. “There are consequences for that.”

I start with his fingers.

The sounds that fill the studio are not pleasant. Vinnie screams. He begs. He alternates between pleading with me and pleading with Declan to save him.

I work methodically, without passion. This is not about enjoyment. This is about sending a message. The camera records everything, its red light blinking steadily in the corner.

Throughout it all, I’m aware of Dylan watching. Tracking his reactions from the corner of my eye. Waiting for the mask to slip, for the hardened criminal underneath to emerge.

But all I see is horror. Pure, unfiltered horror. The kind that seems impossible to fake.

His face has gone white. His body is shaking so violently that the chair rattles against the concrete floor. There are tears streaming down his cheeks, soaking into the gag.

Vinnie is begging Dylan again, his words slurred and broken. “Declan... please... just tell them... make it stop... I have children... Declan, please...”

Dylan is shaking his head frantically, making desperate sounds behind his gag. Sounds that are clearly denials. Sounds that are clearly trying to say he’s not Declan, he can’t help, he doesn’t know anything.

But Declan O’Shea is a con artist. A professional liar. A man who has made a career out of making people believe things that aren’t true.