“At first I didn’t know you well enough to worry. Later, though, I did worry. I still do. How can I not? You hold my fate in your hands. One word from you to the police and I’ll be on the next train north.”

“Never,” Rosa said, and now she was weeping openly. “Never, never would we hurt you. Never will we allow anyone to take you from us. You belong to us, Nina. You and Lucia both. Nothing will ever change that.”

“We will keep you and Lucia safe,” Aldo promised. “I swear it.”

“And you aren’t upset that we lied to you?”

“Maybe a little?” Rosa allowed. “But only because I wish you had trusted us with the truth.”

“I still think it best that the children aren’t told,” Father Bernardi said. “One day, but not yet. Not while men like Zwerger still hold the power of life or death over us.”

Aldo nodded, and then he went to the high shelf above the hearth, to the spot where he kept his best bottle of grappa, and he fetched it back to the table, along with four glasses. He poured a scant measure into each glass, handed one each to Rosa, Nina, and Father Bernardi, and took the last for himself.

“In lieu of a baptism, let us drink to the health and happiness of my first grandchild. To Lucia Anna Gerardi. May she forever know the love of her family and the peace of our hearth. And may her father return to her before she is old enough to remember his absence.”

“To Lucia,” Nina echoed. “And to her father’s safe return.”

IT WAS LATE afternoon, and the hiding place was uncomfortably warm, and the baby had fallen asleep at her breast. Nina had slept, too, but only fitfully, and so she was more than half-awake when the shouting and barking began.

She put Lucia down in her little basket, making sure she was securely swaddled, and crawled toward the shuttered window. It would be folly to open it, but if she tilted her head just so, she could see into the courtyard below.

Zwerger was back, and this time he had at least a dozen men with him.

“What more do you want from us?” Aldo cried. “You took my son, and now you come to take away my daughter?”

“Daughter? Is that what you’re calling that whore? No—don’t even think it. Or do you wish for your other children to witness your death? It’s easily done.”

“Leave my father alone.” Matteo’s voice was nearly as deep and steady as Nico’s had been.

“Get back—all of you,” Zwerger screamed. “Against the wall by the road. Stay where you are. And you there—if you let go of that dog I’ll empty my gun into her. That’s a promise.”