3. Chapter Three
3
Sofia
I watched Luca walk away, back down the sidewalk towards his apartment building. He was moving slowly, and my stomach twisted into a knot. I should have walked him home. Luca probably wouldn't have allowed it, but maybe if I insisted, he wouldn't be so stubborn about it.
He looked terrible. I tried to hide my reaction when he came down from his apartment, but I'm pretty sure he noticed. Luca was nothing if not perceptive. Back he went, retreating behind that curtain of hair that I knew he only kept long to cover his face. It was greasy and tangled into the wispy strands of his beard. The pallor of his face and the dark circles standing out under his eyes could have been byproducts of the grey weather outside, but I didn't think so.
How long had it been since I had looked at Luca—really looked at him? Seen past what I wanted to see to the truth? I couldn't remember. My visits had become routine, something I did because I knew it was the right thing to do and I truly cared about Luca, but I was ashamed to realize that they had become just another check in the box as I struggled through my week.
I had been so self-absorbed with my own problems, I hadn't looked beyond what my heart wanted to see. Luca getting better. Luca happy. But he wasn't, was he?
From the coffee shop, I called Julian. He picked up on the first ring.
"He agreed to come," I told him. "I don't think he was happy about it, and he said he’s not promising anything. He's not sure how much help he's going to be."
"Just having him back will be a step in the right direction." Julian was silent for a moment. "Besides, I think it will be good for him. I hate the thought of him in that apartment all alone."
Julian's words hit me like a blow. Surely Luca wasn't all alone. He was the kind of guy who could make friends with anyone, and even though he didn’t need the money, he still had that job with Dante’s cousin, didn’t he? I couldn't be the only one who visited him.
"I mean, he's not alone, right? There’s that nurse who checks in on him and the cleaning lady—” Julian cut off and swore softly. "That's awful. I heard it as soon as I said it."
"I know what you meant, Julian."
It was awful. I didn't know if the home healthcare worker or the cleaning service we had set up were still coming around to Luca's apartment. I'd never even seen the inside of his apartment or asked about his friends or his job. Luca hadn’t let me. Had he been telling me the truth? Was he even still going to PT?
Too distracted with my own life, Luca had made it far too easy for me to forget about the little things.
Guilt, thick and cloying, filled my throat.
"How..." Julian cleared his throat and began again. "How was he, Sofia? Really."
I didn't want to say it, but Julian needed to know the truth. "Not good. I’ve never actually seen the inside of Luca’s apartment, so I don’t know really anything about how he’s doing other than what he tells me during our weekly visits. But today I caught him off guard, and he looked worse than I’d ever seen him.”
There was silence on the other end of the line, which I took as him wanting me to continue. "I could tell something was off by the way Luca smiled at me. Like he was putting on a show. He's lost weight again, and he looked exhausted. Pale.”
Sick. Luca looked sick.
"I had no idea it was that bad," Julian murmured. "You're the only one who checks in, aren't you?"
I felt tears prick my eyes, and I turned my head to discreetly wipe them away. "Yeah, I think so, but I've been so busy--"
"Sofia, stop. Luca is an adult, and he told us he needed space. You couldn't have known."
"I should have. I should have asked. I should have made him, or…” I shook my head even though he couldn’t see. "I'm worried about him, Jules. I think...I think I'm going to go back and check on him."
"I think that would be a good idea," he agreed. Then, his voice brightened. "Hey, maybe you could suggest moving back into the compound since he's going to be working with us anyway. That way Luca will be right here, and we could all take turns looking in on him."
I was pretty sure how that was going to go over. "I'll mention it, but I don't know, Julian."
"Just try. Please. He listens to you."
"Maybe he'd listen to you if you came around more." I closed my eyes and pressed my phone against my forehead. "Sorry. I shouldn't be like that when I've barely been there myself."
Julian sighed. "No, you're right. I've been too wrapped up in things lately. It's just...with Sal at the helm, things are so tense around here. The guys are walking on eggshells, and it's taking every ounce of energy I have just to keep everything together. That's going to change, though. I promise. I'll take over with Luca, you have your own life to live. You've done enough."
I frowned at the thought of Luca being passed around like a charity project. "I've got to go, Julian. I'll let you know how it goes."
I hung up before he could respond. Julian could be so callous sometimes. I understood he had a lot on his mind right now and was just trying to help, but his words still stung. It was true that I'd been a lot busier since I graduated, mostly just trying to keep my head above water, but that was no excuse. It didn't mean I couldn't be there for Luca. I just hadn't made it a priority, and the guilt was enough to turn my stomach. This wasn’t like me.
Scrolling through my phone aimlessly, I navigated to my messaging app and typed out a quick text to Luca. Maybe I was overreacting. I was still going to go check on him, but at least I would forewarn him; Luca wouldn’t appreciate it if I went barging into his space in a panic just to soothe my own guilt.
I gave it a few minutes, but he didn’t answer. On to plan B. His place was on the way to the T station; it would only take a moment to stop and check in on him. Just to make sure he was okay.
Leaving the coffee shop, I turned left and headed back in the direction of Luca's apartment. It was now late afternoon and the foot traffic was heavy, everyone hurrying home through the drizzle. I wasn't sure what kind of welcome I was going to get from Luca when I arrived, but I'd cross that bridge when I got there. Right now, I just wanted to make sure he was okay.
My phone chirped with an incoming text, and I ducked under an awning, fumbling it out of my purse in the hopes that maybe Luca had answered, but it wasn’t him. It was Beth.
Beth: Hey, can I crash at your place tonight? I left Davey.
Good for her. It was about time she left that piece of shit.
Me: You can stay as long as you want. Are you okay?
Beth: Not really. Davey’s acting really weird, scaring the shit out of me. He’s crazy paranoid and came home with a gun. I just had to get out of there.
Davey with a gun? It had to be because of the money he owed. I was glad Beth was getting away from that; if Davey didn’t pay up soon, it wasn’t going to be pretty.
Me: Where are you now? Do you want me to come get you?
Beth: No, it’s okay. I’m finishing up my shift at Tipsy’s, Davey refused to go in to work today. I’ll come over after I’m done here, I just need to vent and probably eat a gallon of ice cream and polish it off with a bottle of vodka.
Me: Lol. Ok, call me if you need ANYTHING, I’ll be home in a couple hours. I’ll bring the Haggen Dazs.
Beth: I’ll bring the vodka. The good shit, not that drain cleaner Davey serves at the bar.
Me: 3 Love you
Beth: Love u 2
I ducked back into the rain. Poor Beth. I was proud of her for finally leaving that asshole, but I hated that she’d been dragged into his shit with my family. Thankfully she’d gotten free of him before anything bad happened. It probably wouldn’t be anything more than a busted kneecap or a few broken fingers, but still—Beth was too sweet of a person to get mixed up with that.
My mind was still pouring over this latest thing with Beth as Luca’s apartment building came into view. I wouldn’t take long; just a quick visit to check in on him and make sure he was okay, then I’d leave. Maybe we could set up something again for later in the week.
At the front door, I buzzed Luca’s apartment and waited. No answer.
I buzzed him again, really laying it on this time. Maybe I'd annoy him, but at least I'd know he was okay.
Still nothing.
I checked my phone to make sure I hadn't missed a call or a text, but there was nothing. A second call went to voicemail.
Maybe he's sleeping. Maybe he's pissed at you.
Or maybe he fell.
"Excuse me." An older woman was trundling up to the front door with a basket of groceries in tow. I rushed down the steps to help her. "Let me get that for you."
She gave me a smile and handed me the basket. "Thank you, dear, that's awfully kind of you."
Not necessarily, lady, I just need to get inside. I smiled back at her, swallowing down my worry as I followed her in the building and up the stairs. The building was nice, with polished wooden floors and ornate trim work, but it was dated. The narrow staircase had only a handrail on one side, which the woman was clinging to for dear life as she made her way up one step at a time. Was there no elevator?
I helped the old woman up the stairs at a glacial pace, dropped her off at her door with another forced smile, then continued up one more flight of stairs to Luca's apartment.
I knocked on the door, calling out his name. "Luca?"
Nothing.
"Luca, it's Sofia. Please open up."
There was no sound from inside, but I tried the door handle anyway. It turned easily in my hand.
Unlocked.
My pulse doubled. Luca knew better than to leave his apartment unlocked; he'd been on the wrong side of the tracks since he was a kid. He still had enemies, just like the rest of us. You didn't grow up in the mafia and go around leaving your place unsecured, just like you didn't walk the streets without protection.
Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I reached into my purse and wrapped my fingers around my pistol. It was better than nothing.
The front door swung open to reveal a darkened apartment. The living room was sparsely furnished, with only a worn sofa facing the television and a big picture window that looked out over the street below. The shades were drawn, casting everything in shadow, but even in the dim light I could tell it was a mess. Boxes were stacked along one wall, clothes and takeout containers were everywhere. The faint smell of spoiled food hung in the air, and I had to fight down the urge to gag.
"Luca?" I called out. No answer.
I left the door ajar and took a few steps into the apartment. My heart pounded as I crept through the living room towards the kitchen. The lights were off, but enough daylight came through the windows so that I could see the dishes piled high in the sink. There was a broken lamp on the floor and holes the size of fists in the drywall. It looked like the place had been tossed.
"Luca!"
This time, I heard a faint groan from the bedroom. I crossed the living room and pushed through the half-open door. Luca was curled up in bed, a pillow clutched over his head.
“Luca, what’s wrong? Are you hurt—"
"Go ‘way." The pillow muffled his voice, but I could hear the strain in it.
I flipped on the light, and he cringed, curling up further into a ball. "Shut the fucking light off!"
I scrambled to turn it back off. "Sorry! Sorry, I just—"
"Sofia?" Luca removed the pillow and blinked up at me owlishly. His eyes were bloodshot, his hair damp with sweat. "What are you doing here?"
"I came by to check on you. I'm sorry, I—”
"How did you get in?"
"The door was unlocked."
Luca mumbled something and pressed his face into the pillow. He lay still for a moment, breathing deeply, then he pushed himself upright. I reached for him, but he pulled away.
"Are you alright?" I asked.
Luca chuckled bleakly. "Just a headache. It's almost gone."
He stood and shuffled out of the bedroom, avoiding my eyes. I didn't know what to do, so I followed him down the hall and into the kitchen, where he poured himself a drink of water and tried to hide how bad his hand was shaking. I saw it, though.
Luca put the glass down on the counter and leaned over it. "What are you really doing here, Sofia? Did Julian need something else?"
I cringed at the bitterness in his voice. The Luca I'd grown up with always had a laugh on the edge of his lips. He'd been larger than life, big and strong with a heart to match. It wasn't in him to be bitter or cutting.
I didn't recognize the man standing before me.
Luca's face was still devastatingly handsome, but sharpened by illness and bitterness, the left side turned away from me so I couldn't see the scars. Stringy hair, wild beard, sweat stained tee shirt. He looked like a man forgotten, even by himself, and my heart broke for him.
He was standing right in front of you the entire time, but you forgot him too.
"Don't look at me like that," he snapped.
I jumped at his tone, startled. "What?"
"That pity." He spat the word. "I can't stand the…the fucking p-pity. That's why I left. I saw it in the guys' faces, in Julian's, and I couldn't fucking stand it anymore. Now you're here, and you're looking at me the same g-goddamn way."
Luca was agitated, starting to stutter again. He still did that sometimes when he was stressed, a residual effect of his brain injury. I reached out for him. "I'm sorry—”
"Stop saying you're…you’re…Fuck!" Luca swept his arm across the kitchen counter, sending plates crashing to the floor. "You're sorry, I'm sorry, everybody is so f-f- fucking sorry!"
Luca shook with rage, holding his head in his hands. It was so unlike him that I shrank back, instinctively creeping towards the front door before I stopped myself. This wasn't some stranger, this was Luca. He was hurt, he was angry, and I had a part to play in that.
I waited while he took several deep breaths, obviously trying to calm himself.
"I shouldn't have yelled. You didn't deserve that." Luca turned his back to me and gripped his hair tight enough to hurt. "Why are you here, Sofia?"
"I was worried. You looked like you were sick at the coffee shop, and I wanted to see you."
"You came. You saw." Luca chuckled darkly and gestured at the room. At himself. "Like w-what you see?"
"No, I don't." I tried to keep my voice as steady as possible. "I don't like it at all. Luca, why hasn't the cleaning service been here? What about the home healthcare worker? She's supposed to be coming by every—"
"I dismissed them," he said gruffly.
"But—"
"I can't stand being treated like an invalid, Sofia. I can take care of myself."
"I know you can," I said quickly, "but this place..."
I trailed off, looking at the broken lamp in the floor, the holes in the drywall.
"What happened here, Luca," I asked softly.
He just shrugged his shoulders and stalked past me to sit on the couch, staring unseeingly at the blank television. I followed him, stepping carefully over the wreckage, and perched on the edge of the chair.
No cleaning service. No nurse to monitor him, the importance of which had been stressed by his doctors again and again. I didn't need to ask if he was still going to PT; I suspected that answer would be ‘no’ as well. A self-imposed isolation, and for months I had been the only one who knew or cared enough to check in on him—apparently, the only person he let in his life anymore. That was something I would need to dissect later.
We sat in silence. Outside, night had fallen, the streetlamps catching the drizzle in fuzzy halos around their pinpoints of light. Luca had retreated deep within himself again, and Julian's words played over and over in my head. Maybe moving back into the compound would be convenient for Luca, but I was no longer convinced that it was the best thing for him. I couldn't push him back into that situation. I couldn't take away his autonomy, his independence. His pride.
But it was clear Luca needed help. For a man who had always been the one to give it, though, asking for help wasn't something that came naturally. If at all. A plan was slowly forming in my mind, but I would need to approach it carefully. I didn't want him to shut me out.
"Can I make you some dinner?" I asked. "I'm starving. I didn't get a chance to eat lunch today."
"I'm not hungry, but you go ahead."
I got up and walked into the kitchen, trying to decide what I could make from the mess of cans and half empty containers in the fridge. I cringed at the amount of spoiled food that was hiding behind the closed doors.
"Are you sure I can't make you anything?" I called back to the living room.
Luca didn't answer. I leaned back to peek at him, and I saw that he had his head in his hands again.
"I'm fine," he snapped.
I took the hint and stopped asking. I found a can of tomato soup and poured it into a saucepan. I was going to make him eat something, even if I had to force feed it to him. Busying myself in the kitchen, I put the pot on the stove, then I turned to the cupboards to find a bowl. They were mostly bare. I did find some unspoiled cheese, and there was bread in the fridge, so I made a few grilled cheese sandwiches while I waited for the soup to heat.
When it was ready, I poured it into a bowl and took the soup and the sandwiches to the living room. I set them on the coffee table in front of him and sat beside him.
"I made you some soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. You should eat something."
He glared at me. "I told you, I'm not hungry."
"I know, but you look like you haven't eaten in days."
“Please just stop. My head feels like it’s going to fall off my shoulders, and I don’t have the energy or patience for this.”
“Eating would probably help your headache.”
Luca said nothing, and I picked at the crust of my own sandwich, working up the nerve to ask him. I wasn't used to stony, uncomfortable silences with him.
"You know, I have that two bedroom up in Charlestown. I don't need the space, and it's just sitting empty." Luca stared at the plate of sandwiches, his face impassive. I couldn't read him at all. "Why don't you come stay with me? We could—"
"No."
"But—"
"I'm not moving in with you like some kind of charity case," he snarled through his clenched jaw, still staring at the table. "I don't need your help, or Julian's, or anyone else's. I'm fine, here. I can take care of myself."
I bit my lip to keep from screaming at him. He was being ridiculous. I needed to keep my head, keep my calm, even though I wanted to slap some sense into him.
"Luca, I know you don't need my help," I said gently. "But you're not okay, and it's okay to ask for help sometimes. You can't do this alone."
Luca shot to his feet, his face livid. "This is my life, Sofia. M-my mess. My choices. Mine . You don't…”
His mouth worked, struggling with the word, and I knew better than to help him out. Luca’s speech had improved over the past year, but he still got stuck on words, especially when he was agitated.
“You don’t…g-get to tell me what to do, and you sure as hell d-don't get to take away my choices. Get out."
"Luca—"
"Get the fuck out."
Luca pointed at the front door. I stood up and started to walk towards the door, slowly. I was hoping he would change his mind and ask me to stay. He didn't. Luca kept his arm out, pointing at the door, until I passed him and reached for the doorknob.
"I didn’t mean to upset you, Luca," I whispered. “I just want to help.”
"Just go."
The door closed behind me, and I was left standing alone in the hallway, feeling a cold numbness wash over me that made me shiver despite the heat. Asshole! I had just been trying to help, trying to give him a lifeline, and he kicked me out? Luca had never acted that way towards me. Never.
But…maybe that was what bothered me so much. That wasn’t like him at all. The mood swings, the violence—had he done all that to his apartment? Not locking his door, in so much pain that he must have forgotten, curled up and barely able to move. How long had he been getting headaches? Surely that couldn’t be good. And I just pushed him and pushed him, even though he obviously still wasn’t feeling well. It didn’t excuse the way he yelled at me, but…maybe I pushed too hard. Luca had always been kind and gentle with me, even when I was the brattiest child imaginable. He was never angry at me, never even raised his voice. Not once.
The emotional whiplash of the last few minutes with Luca left me reeling.
As anger and worry duked it out for space in my brain, I leaned against the wall for support, my knees weak. I needed to leave before I knocked on his door again and begged him to talk to me. It was obvious he didn't want me here, so I wouldn’t push it. Not now. I needed to give him some time to cool off, and besides—Beth was probably waiting for me back at my apartment.
The subway ride and the walk from the station to my apartment seemed twice as long, and the darkness of the evening was closing in around me, insulating me after all the ugliness in Luca’s apartment. I pulled the hood of my jacket up as I walked, ducking my head to avoid the drizzle. It was still coming down, puddles reflecting the streetlamps, and my shoes squelched in the water that had already accumulated on the sidewalk. It was the type of night that made me feel like I was the only person in the world. Isolated. Alone. Or maybe it was just Luca’s harsh words after he kicked me out of his apartment. I shivered again as I passed the mouth of the alley next to my street, and hurried past, anxious to get home.
A noise stopped me in my tracks, coming from the darkened alley to my left. I stopped and the noise came again, a low sigh followed by the scrape of something heavy being dragged across the pavement.
Something was in there, lying on the ground.
My heart raced as I crept into the alley, my eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. Garbage bags spilled from the overflowing dumpster. The noise was louder now, a low whining, and I skirted the dumpster, trying to see where the noise was coming from. Maybe an animal was hurt—
I froze in place as I saw a pale, bloody arm sticking out of the trash bags.
A bloody arm with a butterfly tattooed on the inside of the wrist.
"Beth!"
She was sprawled out between the trash bags, clothes torn and soaked with rain and something darker that I didn’t want to think about. A purse was upended a few feet away. Her face was turned partially towards me, and even in the alley’s dim light I could see that she’d been badly beaten, a single eye open and fixed, unmoving, on the mouth of the alley.
I jumped as the body let out a long, rattling breath, fingers contracting.
Beth was still alive.
I scrambled towards her, my mind blank with shock. Shoes skidded on the wet pavement. My feet shot out from under me. I hit the ground, hard, knocking the air from my lungs, and my head smacked the concrete, tilting the world on its edge for a moment.
Pushing myself up to my elbows, I crawled down the alley, holding the back of my head. Beth's body was sprawled out a few feet from where I had fallen, her face turned towards me.
She’d been beaten. Her face was a swollen mess of blackened bruises, and blood bubbled out of her nose and mouth with every breath she took. God only knew how bad the damage was underneath her clothes. Her left eye was swollen shut, but the other one was wide open, staring at me.
"Oh my god," I whispered. "Oh god. Beth."
Her lips parted, and she struggled to talk. The sound that came out of her mouth was horrifying, a wet, gurgling sound that I could barely hear. I knelt beside her, reaching out a hand, but then I stopped, not knowing if I should move her or even try to touch her because I could hurt her even more and oh god I didn’t know what to do—
Call 9-1-1. Call the police. Call someone.
I fumbled for my phone. My hands were shaking too badly.
Beth whimpered and went still, her chest falling with a long, wheezing sigh. It didn’t rise again.
"No!"
I dropped the phone and shook her. Her head lolled on the pavement like a broken doll, her bleach blond hair darkening in a puddle. Shaking fingers held to her throat, searching desperately for a pulse.
Nothing. I snatched them back.
My breath came too loud and too fast in my own ears. I scrambled backwards. My face felt numb, lips tingling, vision wavering and curling in around the corners. I needed to get up. I needed to call someone, because Beth was...Beth was...
Beth was dead, and I was sitting in an alley with the body of a murdered woman.