26. Deanna
DEANNA
Oh shit. Oh fuck. He knows. He fucking knows and he’s going to tell me. Carbone smiles politely at my mother and shakes her hand. He accepts some coffee and says hello to my father. Yolanda flutters about, until the pair of us are left alone.
My parents think he’s here to discuss business.
Carbone seems out of place in my mother’s living room. He’s a hard thing, made from flint and steel, while she likes everything soft. A pink blanket sits by his elbow. I wonder how many men Carbone has killed.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about you, Deanna.” He cradles his coffee in his lap. “There was a problem at the house. We didn’t discover it until this morning. Only a few hours ago, actually.”
“What’s wrong?” I want to throw up. They found him. I knew this would happen, but I thought I’d be with Prime. Instead, I’m alone, and fucking Carbone knew it. He came here to corner me.
I know what this is. He’s sending a message. He knows where my parents live. He knows what they are. And he can find me whenever he damn well pleases.
“It seems that Frankie Inzerillo, one of Mr. Fontana’s associates, met with an untimely end in one of the guest bedrooms.”
I cover my mouth in alarm. I don’t even have to fake it. “What happened?”
“We aren’t sure. There was a gun involved and we suspect foul play. Can I ask you some questions, please?”
“Yes, of course. Oh god, I’m sorry about your friend.”
“Frankie wasn’t a friend.” He sips his coffee. “The house guards mentioned you went to the bathroom.”
“Yes, ah, it’s embarrassing.”
“There’s a dead man, Mrs. Spadaro. We’re past that.”
I look down at my lap. Fuck, he’s going to catch me. He already knows. “I got my period early. I had to go, you know, clean myself and take care of it.”
“Yes, it must be difficult to be a woman.”
“Sometimes.” I struggle to keep from fidgeting.
“They said you weren’t gone long. Ten minutes at the most.”
“Like I said, I had to clean up too.”
“I see.” Typically, men would shy away from a conversation about period blood and menstruation, but Carbone’s watching me intently. “Did you see Prime during that time?”
“He wasn’t in the bathroom.”
“Not in the hallway either?”
“I think he was still in the meeting.”
Carbone’s lips press together. “Are you sure?”
“Not really. I was distracted, I mean, like I said. It was pretty embarrassing.” I keep thinking, this is for my parents.
If I screw up, this man is going to kill me and he’s going to kill them too.
My mom and dad are hostages and Carbone’s not going to hesitate to murder them all, even poor Yolanda.
All their lives are in my hands and I can’t fuck this up.
Sweat dribbles under my arms. Fear riles in my stomach. Carbone sits motionless but he might as well hold a gun to my forehead.
“Did you hear anything? A shout? Any other strange sound?” he asks.
“No, the water was running most of the time.”
“Did you see anyone?”
“Only the guards. Prime came out a little after I got back.”
“It’s strange, Mrs. Spadaro. I’ll admit that Frankie has a lot of enemies and he’s not the most well-liked member of our organization, but to find him dead in that house? Mr. Fontana is not pleased.”
“I’m sorry about him, but I don’t know what happened. We weren’t there for very long.”
Carbone taps his finger against his nose before sitting back. “One more question. You and Prime seem like you get along well.”
I’m surprised by the abrupt shift. “I think so, yes, we do.”
“Your relationship isn’t just a business one anymore, is it?”
I don’t know how to react to that. “What do you mean?”
“The guards said you and him were kissing.” Carbone’s smile slithers across his lips. “It’s not a crime to kiss your husband, Mrs. Spadaro, but it’s interesting. We all believed your marriage to Prime was born of convenience. But perhaps it’s more?”
My mouth opens and closes. I don’t know what to say.
What does Carbone want to hear? He seems like the sort of man who appreciates working within the confines of a deal.
He probably doesn’t feel much of anything, except maybe the thrill of murdering an enemy.
At best, at the very limits of this creature’s emotional range, I have a feeling he’d rip through this household and leave it a bloody, gore-streaked mess, and do it with a faint smile on his face.
I consider lying and trying to come up with the perfect reply, but I can’t begin to imagine what this monster wants from me.
Instead, the truth rushes out.
“Things between us are complicated, Mr. Carbone. I don’t know how I feel about him.”
His brows arch. “You don’t know? Or you don’t want to say?”
“Why does it matter?” I ask desperately.
“Because, Mrs. Spadaro, Prime has brought you into his world. You can see that, can’t you? Before you were kept separate, back when you were nothing more than his personal assistant, but now you know things. You’ve seen things. And I don’t know how much to trust you.”
“I’d never… I mean, I care… I wouldn’t…”
“How do you feel about him, Deanna?” Carbone leans forward. He licks his thin lips and leaves them shining and damp. “What would you do for him? How far would you go? Would you kill for him?”
“I love him!” The words burst from my chest. My heart’s racing wildly and my gaze darts around in a panic like someone might hear. “I’m falling for him, but I’d never kill anyone. I couldn’t! I don’t know what happened to your associate but I had nothing to do with it.”
Carbone sits back and studies me. I fight the urge to whimper and cry, mostly because I think it would only piss him off.
Any display of weakness right now would be interpreted as guilt.
He steeples his fingers, breathing through his nose, and I want to beg him to stop, beg him to go away from here, to leave my parents alone, to leave me, alone, but this is what I wanted when I married Prime.
This is what I asked for when I walked into that house by my husband’s side, but god, I’m so far out of my depth now, it’s like I’m drowning.
“Thank you for your time, Mrs. Spadaro.” He stands abruptly. “I know my way out.”
I almost call out and ask him to wait, but I bite down my tongue to punish myself for the impulse.
You don’t tell a monster to hold on once they’re walking away.
Carbone steps out of the house and the door shuts behind him, and I rush to it, tears streaming down my face as I slam the bolt shut.
I collapse to the floor, sobbing into my hands, feeling foolish and small and weak.
And too aware of how close I was to getting everyone I care about killed.
“Excuse me? Miss? Are you alright?”
I wipe my face. Dad’s standing at the foot of the steps, squinting hard like he’s trying to place me and can’t manage it.
“I’m fine. It’s okay, don’t worry.” I know better than to alarm him. Dad can’t handle stress.
I think he’s going to turn toward the kitchen, but he pauses, hesitates, and jolts as if struck. He spins and kneels in front of me, his eyes clear and sharp for the first time in weeks. He takes my hand in his.
“Deanna, it’s going to be okay, honey.” Dad’s voice is calm and steady. He smiles and that’s the smile I’ve always known, the smile that defines him: bright and bold and strong, and even though his hands are thin and his skin is papery, it’s still him down beneath all those failing bones.
“Thanks, Daddy,” I whisper, crying again despite myself. My shoulders shake as he leans in to hug me.
“Oh honey, don’t worry. I’m not sure what you’re upset about, but we’ll talk to Mommy, okay? We’ll straighten it out. We always do, right, Deedee?”
I sob harder. He hasn’t used that nickname for me since I was a little girl. Nostalgia, guilt, sorrow, it crashes into me, and for a few seconds I cling to my father like he’s still the man that can fix cars and throw football and can teach me just about anything I want to learn.
Until he pulls away and backs off. Confusion comes over him again, and I can feel it slipping. It’s dangerous, these moments of transition, and for the man I know is still inside that shell, I drag myself to my feet and force myself to get it together.
“I was looking for something,” he says, frowning at me. “You might know where it is?”
“Come on, I know where you were going. It’s this way, in the kitchen.”
“You’re a good kid.” He pats my elbow and allows me to lead him away. “Such a good kid.”
He’s wrong. I’m fucked. I’ll get him killed and my mother too if I can’t find a path through this nightmare. Carbone knows where I live, he knows where my parents are, and I know his visit was more than an interrogation.
It was a threat.