Chapter 8
EIGHT
“That badge is not valid, ma’am.”
I’ve never been called ma’am before, and I’m not sure if I like it.
“It has to be valid, though. The receptionist made it for me just yesterday.”
The officer on security duty tries scanning it again, but the sound the machine makes isn’t reassuring. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but you have to go through the security check with the visitors.”
I bite my lip. Everything is going wrong. I’m going to be late on my second day too. It’s just perfect. If I keep messing up like this, Sophia will definitely take back her job offer.
“We can bring her in with us, Joey,” a kind voice says behind me. I turn around and look up at Josh. “She’s Sophia’s new intern. I can vouch for her.”
The security officer simply shrugs. “Sure, the badge seems legit. It’s just issued under the wrong name.”
I roll my eyes. Margaret, you scrawny assed bitch.
“Let me guess, it’s for a Karen?” Clay chuckles from behind Josh, and I only notice him now.
“It is!” The security guard says, looking down at me. “Is that your name?”
I’m about to say no when Clay says, “It is now.”
Josh guides me into the building, and once we’re a few steps away from the crowd at the entrance, I turn to him. “Thanks. Getting back in line would have sucked.”
Josh places a hand on the small of my back and gently nudges me to keep walking, but he presses on a bruise, which makes me flinch. “No problem. Let’s get your badge fixed.”
I step away from him, and his hand falls back to his side. “No, that’s okay. I’m already late and need to find my way to the lab. I’ll take care of it after work.”
“Don’t be silly, Karen.” Clay pulls out his phone from his pocket. “I’ll text Sophia and let her know why you’re running late.”
I glare at him, but when I turn around, we’re already standing in front of the reception desk, and Josh smiles at a grumpy-looking Margaret.
He takes the paper from my hand and hands it to her.
“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” he asks, attempting some small talk, but she merely raises an eyebrow at him.
It’s comforting to know I’m not the only one she hates.
“So, the badge you made for Carolina has the wrong name on it, and she can’t use it like this.
Could you please make her a new one?” he asks her in a much more polite tone than I would have.
Margaret takes the paper from his grip and scans it. “What wrong name? You told me her name,” she says. “Here, Karen Costa, just like you told me.”
“It’s Carolina,” I say, and she shoots me a glare.
“Why didn’t you tell me that yesterday?”
“I did,” Sophia says from my right. I turn as she approaches, smiling at me before addressing Margaret. “It must have been a misunderstanding.”
The old lady’s expression softens. “Oh, I’m sorry, honey. Of course, I’ll change it. I’ll have her badge done this evening.”
Sophia pats her wrinkly hand. “That would be so nice of you. Thank you, my dear.”
I stare at Josh with wide eyes and mouth, What the…
A wide grin spreads across his face. Sophia grabs my wrist and pulls me along as we walk. “She’s the old lady whisperer,” Josh says, his voice filled with amusement now that we’re out of the grumpy woman’s earshot.
Sophia releases my wrist. “Oh, shut up. She’s nice!”
Clay walks beside me while the siblings walk ahead. “Yeah, nice to you. No one else,” he grumbles.
As we reach a corner where the hallway splits into two directions, Sophia smiles. “Thank you for finding my lost sheep.”
I give her my mask of indifference.
“Anytime,” Clay says, winking at me.
We’re about to walk off in separate directions when Del Moro and another cop approach from the direction Josh and Clay are about to head.
I automatically position myself in front of Sophia, not wanting her to get pulled into Del Moro’s shit.
Clay notices my movement and looks at me with furrowed brows.
Del Moro sneers at me as he passes by, saying, “Seems like they let the trash in now.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Yeah, but you already know that since you’re here.”
He glares at me before walking away, shouting, “Get lost, Costa.”
Clay looks after Del Moro before he turns back to me. “What the fuck was that?”
I just shrug, walking in the direction of Sophia’s lab, lost in yet another incident I will never be able to forgive Del Moro for.
Chiara and I are at the subway station near her school, where I just picked her up. She’s crying, and I’m holding her close. In her hand is a paper with a low grade, not the first one she’s gotten recently.
It’s only been three months since we lost our parents, and she’s struggling to sleep. Everything is just too much. We lost our parents, moved out of our home, and now live in a run-down apartment with our asshole of an uncle.
He wasn’t a nice guy even before we had to live with him, and I never liked him, but now he’s always drunk and angry, so we mostly try to stay out of his way.
Since Roberto doesn’t lift a finger, I’ve had to find two jobs to cover our rent and food, all while still going to high school. I even told a bar owner I was older than I am so I could work there at night.
Chiara doesn’t see the full picture. To her, she’s lost her parents and her home and feels like I’m not there for her. I want to be there more than anything. She is all I have now too. But if I don’t work, we’ll soon be homeless or without food.
Since I’m not there, and she is grieving, alone too much, and only fucking eleven years old, she is slacking. At first, her teachers were understanding, but apparently, their patience is running thin.
I move in front of her, placing my hands on her shoulders and bending down to meet her eyes. She’s wiping away tears, trying to hold back more. “Hey, piccola,” I soothe. “We’ll work on your next assignment together, okay? You’ll improve your grade in no time.”
She nods but can’t meet my eyes, and another tear rolls down her cheek. I can’t remember the last time I saw her smile. Lately, all she does is cry, and it’s breaking my heart. But I don’t know what to do.
I am struggling not to drown in grief myself.
Drawing her close, I give her a comforting hug, kissing her forehead. “How about some ice cream?”
I earned good tips last night, and even though it isn’t in the budget, sometimes you have to bend the rules, especially if it might bring a smile to her face.
But before she can respond, loud laughter echoes from behind us. Del Moro and his friends are approaching, heading to our platform. My heart sinks. Quickly, I turn us both so we’re facing away from them.
“Stay calm,” I whisper to Chiara, but it seems he’s already seen us.
“Costa!” Del Moro shouts. I briefly shut my eyes, drawing in a deep breath, trying to gather my courage, then I arrange my face into a blasé expression, shielding Chiara as I turn to face him.
We lock eyes, and I say nothing. Del Moro walks toward me with a malicious grin. “Haven’t I told you that you’re not allowed to use the subway anymore?”
“Fuck off, dickhead” I reply flatly.
Undeterred, he steps closer. I stand my ground, maintaining eye contact. But his eyes dart behind me. “What’s this?” He snatches Chiara’s paper from her hand and scans it.
I reach out to take it back from him, but he rips it to shreds. “Looks like stupidity runs in your family.”
“Kind of like syphilis runs in yours, I guess.” I know I’ll regret that, but I can’t let him belittle Chiara when she’s already so down.
His friends laugh and jeer from behind, but Del Moro’s face twists with fury. “You’ve just proved how fucking stupid you are.”
He seizes the strap of my backpack and yanks, sending me sprawling onto the pavement. Pain shoots through my knees and palms.
I turn to see Del Moro focus his cold gaze on the trembling Chiara, who looks like a deer in headlights. Without warning, he forcefully pushes her, and she tumbles down onto the subway tracks below.
Panic overtakes me as I scramble to the edge and stretch my hand toward her, but she’s too far down, and I can’t reach her.
“Don’t touch the rails!” I yell.
“Lina!” she screams, fear in her voice while she jumps and tries to reach my hand.
Desperate, I pull off my backpack and let it fall to the ground before jumping onto the tracks, bending down, and positioning myself as a human ladder for Chiara. “Climb up, quick!”
Using my back and shoulders as steps, Chiara scrambles up and back onto the platform, shaken but safe.
But now, I’m the one stranded on the tracks. The familiar hum of an approaching subway train grows louder, the glaring headlights drawing closer. My panic escalates as I desperately jump and try to grip the edge of the platform, but it’s too high for me to reach.
As the train roars nearer, two of Del Moro’s friends get cold feet and rush over to extend their arms down toward me. I grasp their hands tightly, and they pull with all their might, yanking me up and out of the path of the oncoming train just in the nick of time.
The subway cars rush past before coming to a halt. As I regain my breath, trembling from the shock and adrenaline, I look up to see Del Moro sneering.
“You guys are such fucking pussies,” he jeers at his friends before laughing and boarding the subway car with them.
“Get lost, Costa!” he yells before the doors close behind him.
Shaken but alive, I pull Chiara close, letting her cry into my shoulder while I try to calm my racing heart.
We arrive at the office door, and I shake my head to release the memory that has just gripped me.
Del Moro clearly hasn’t changed one bit since high school, and his presence only adds another layer of tension to my already stressful day.
His spewing shit in front of my new boss is just the icing on the cake.
Sophia opens the door and motions for me to get inside. As I enter, I take a moment to compose myself. I can’t let his toxicity affect my focus.
Sophia closes the door behind us and sits behind her desk while I settle into the chair in front of mine. “Do you want to fill me in?” she asks, her voice filled with genuine concern. “I’ve worked a few cases for Del Moro and he’s seems a real pain, but that was brutal.”
I keep my face blank but just barely. “There is some history there. But I won’t let it distract me from work.”
“That’s the spirit,” she says, her smile widening. “Now, let’s focus on the task at hand. I’ve prepared some samples for you to analyze today. We’ll be working on a case regarding a car crash involving potential drug intoxication.”
My heart skips a beat. My parents died in a car accident. According to the toxicology report, they were intoxicated while driving. I never believed that. My parents weren’t even drinkers, rarely having more than the occasional glass of wine, and they would have never taken drugs.
I tried to voice my doubts, but no one took me seriously as a seventeen-year-old.
I was met with dismissive responses, insisting that parents sometimes do things their kids don’t know about.
It made me so mad that I decided to become a forensic toxicologist. That way, I can ensure mistakes like that don’t happen to anyone else.
Sophia takes a sip from her big-ass mug. I have to suppress a laugh when I see what is written on it. Tea. Forensics. Sleep. Repeat.
“Put on your coat and gloves, and let’s get started.”
I quickly slip into the lab coat, making sure it fits properly and put on the gloves. I can’t help but marvel at the array of instruments and tools before me.
This is where the real magic happens.
Sophia guides me through the process of analyzing the samples, explaining each step and providing some insights along the way. Hours pass by in a blur, and finally, we reach a breakthrough.
Sophia points to a chart displaying the results of our analysis. “Look at this,” she says, excitement in her voice. “We’ve now identified the specific drug compound that could be the cause of the intoxication. This could be a significant lead in the case.”
I study the chart, feeling proud to have been part of this, but at the same time, my heart hurts. This hasn’t been an easy task, but it is doable.
So how could they have fucked up so badly when it came to my parents’ case?