Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
We bring the girls back to headquarters and let the assistant call their parents. I can’t stop staring at the smaller girl’s eyes. They are so much like Carolina’s. The hair color and surname fit too.
Is she a cousin or something?
The Italian community is big in New York, and ‘Costa’ occurs as frequently as ‘Smith.’ But those eyes are not an everyday sight.
A tall, middle-aged woman walks into the waiting room, and we nod to her as she gets to her daughter and starts berating her.
“What were you thinking? I raised you better than this! This happens when you hang around that ghetto kid all the time.” Then she turns to the one named Chiara and raises a finger at her.
“Everything we did for you, and this is how you repay us? Influencing her to do such things!”
“Mom, it wasn’t her idea,” the blonde girl starts.
“I don’t want to hear it, Monica!” the mother shouts, and she deflates.
The woman straightens and walks over to us.
“Officers,” she starts. “I am very sorry for my daughter’s behavior.
But you will see it’s her first ever slip, and it will not happen again.
” She throws her daughter a stern look. “I am sure we can manage the situation by paying a fee without writing her down.”
“No one is going to write anyone down. Our main concern was ensuring the safety of your daughter and her friend, so we brought them here. Unfortunately, we are required by the state to impose a fine as a legal penalty,” I explain.
I notice Chiara’s golden eyes widen in response.
“And how much would that fine be?” the mother asks.
“We will need to wait for her parents to arrive and then have a discussion with both of you, if you don’t mind,” I say.
She lets out a huff in response. “That means we’ll be waiting for a long time.”
Furrowing my brows, I’m about to ask what she means when Carolina rushes into the room, appearing frantic as she scans the area. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, but strands stick out around her face. Her beautiful face is red, and her lips have a blue sheen.
Did she get here without a jacket?
She’s dressed in her usual black jeans and a black Henley, but she also wears an apron around her waist.
Does she work at a restaurant on the weekends?
I check the clock, and it’s already after two.
“Chiara,” she exclaims as soon as she catches sight of her, moving swiftly to stand in front of her and gently framing her face with both hands.
Chiara is slightly taller and petite, but now that they stand face to face, their resemblance is uncanny. “You okay, piccola? Sei ferito?”
Tears start to brim in Chiara’s eyes, and she lets out a choked sob. “I am so sorry.”
Carolina draws her into an embrace, gently patting her hair. “Shh… it’s okay… you’re okay.”
There is a huff of annoyance. “No wonder she does whatever she wants when you raise her like this!” Monica’s mother sneers.
Clay and I exchange a quick, puzzled look. Raise? Carolina is far too young to be her mother, right? But they look so fucking alike.
She gently pulls back from Chiara, inspecting her face.
With a soft stroke of her thumb, she removes a stray tear, then releases her and turns to face the other woman, standing protectively in front of Chiara.
Her earlier panicked and fearful look has vanished, replaced with the familiar, indifferent demeanor she usually presents to the world.
“From what I can tell, Barbara,” she says, tone cold. “Your daughter is standing right here beside her.”
Barbara grips Monica’s arm so tightly that her face scrunches up in pain.
She lifts a finger to point at Chiara again.
“She’s a bad influence! My little girl wouldn’t think of such things on her own.
Living on your side of the city, it may be normal for young girls to drink, but I am not going to allow this! ”
Carolina bites her lips before saying, “I’m going to let your comment slide since you always do so much for her. But I sure as fuck have not allowed this either, and I am sure the girls learned their lesson tonight. Haven’t you?”
Both of them nod at her, mumbling a yes. Chiara once more whispers how sorry she is.
“It won’t happen again, Barbara.” Carolina’s tone is a bit warmer now, and I notice her hands are shaking before she crosses them over her chest.
“Yes, it won’t happen again because I will not let that gutter rat hang around my daughter anymore.”
I suck in a breath. It’s like a flip of a switch, and Carolina steps in front of Barbara, her hands at her sides again, formed into fists. Her body remains composed, but her golden eyes spit fire.
“What did you just call her?” she asks, her voice dangerously calm.
Clay steps forward, placing a hand on Carolina’s shoulder, trying to defuse the situation.
“Ladies, let’s not let things get out of hand,” he suggests.
Carolina twists to look at Clay, then me, and I catch a fleeting expression of surprise in her eyes before it disappears.
She hadn’t even noticed us until now? “It’s late, and emotions are running high.
I say we end this discussion now. Let the girls get some rest, and you can talk about this some more tomorrow. ”
Carolina nods, and Barbara approaches me. “So, how much is the fine?” she asks.
“Fine?” Carolina repeats, her gaze shifting to Chiara, who keeps her eyes fixed on her shoes.
Clay answers, “The penalty for underage drinking in public is four hundred dollars.”
Carolina’s eyes close for a moment before she takes a deep breath. Opening them slowly again, she turns to Chiara and whispers, “Questo è la metà dell’affitto, Chiara.”
She nods, and silent tears are falling down her cheeks. “Lo so, mi dispiace.”
Barbara steps in front of Clay and me. “When we pay this fine, there will be no records of this, right?” she asks, but my eyes are on Carolina.
She is crouching down, her backpack on the floor before her, searching through it. She pulls out some dollar bills from her purse and a variety of hidden compartments within her bag. It looks like the biggest bills she has are two twenties.
“Yes, don’t worry, ma’am. When the fine is paid, there is nothing left to do, and there will be no records of this offense,” Clay assures her, handing her the slip of paper.
Barbara takes hold of Monica’s wrist. As she walks out, she calls over her shoulder, “We’ll discuss this again, Carolina!”
Carolina just looks after her as she stands, money in her hand, retrieving a few more bills from her jeans pocket. “Lina…” Chiara begins, eyes watering again.
Carolina simply utters a quiet “Taci” before she comes over and stands in front of us. “Here, four hundred,” she says, handing me the money.
“I am sorry, you’d have to pay it online, by mail, or in person at the city’s finance department. Here…” I hand her the paper, “… all the details are on it.”
She blushes. “Sure,” she mumbles, taking the paper from me and putting it and her money in her backpack. It hurts to see her like that, and I cannot imagine how that proud girl feels right now. “Thank you for looking after her and keeping her safe,” she says, avoiding eye contact. “See you Monday.”
Carolina drapes an arm around Chiara, and they start to leave when I offer, “Wait, how will you get home? We could give you a lift.”
Carolina halts and turns back to face us. “Thanks, but we’ll manage,” she says.
Clay approaches, placing himself in their path. “No arguing, Karen. We’re driving you home.”
Chiara shoots Carolina a look at the name but wisely decides to keep her mouth shut.
“Sure, whatever.” She sighs, reaching for her temple with a pained expression.
The simple gesture shows how much this whole thing has exhausted her. The Carolina I got to know this past week would never simply submit to Clay.
“Let’s get you two home,” I say, guiding them out of the room.
The walk out to the patrol car is quiet, yet the air is thick with tension. I want to say something so badly—ask so many questions—but I know it will only be met with hostility, and there has been enough stress for Carolina for one night.
As they fasten their seat belts in the backseat, Carolina says, “I never imagined I’d end up in a police car.”
Clay chuckles. “Yeah, and Chiara managed to score a ride twice in one night.” I give him an elbow nudge. “What? Too soon?” he teases.
“Where do you live?” I ask, starting the car and glancing at Carolina in the rearview mirror.
“You can just drop us off somewhere in Harlem,” she says.
My brows furrow. “Nonsense. Give me your address.”
Chiara is the one who rattles it off, and I get why Carolina hesitated. It’s a notorious street lined with filthy old buildings. A place where we frequently respond to shootings.
The drive is quiet, with only the soft hum of music from the radio filling the car.
“Thank you for not freaking out and handling this so well,” I hear Chiara whisper.
“Oh, don’t worry, you’ll get an earful when we get home,” Carolina whispers back.
I smile to myself and glance at Clay, who is already grinning.
Pulling up to the building, Chiara steps out of the car, murmuring a quick “Thank you.”
Carolina, however, lingers a moment, the unbuckled seat belt in her hand. “Thank you for getting her. My sister isn’t typically the type to get into trouble. I’ll make sure you won’t see her in a police car again.”
Clay chuckles. “Don’t worry, we all did stuff like that when we were teenagers. This won’t lead her into a life of crime.”
She nods and exits the car. Then we watch as they enter the shabbiest fucking building on the street.
While I start the car again, Clay huffs. “Sister. God, I was going nuts trying to do the math on how she could be her mother.”
I nod. “Did you see where they live? And we just made it harder for her by another four hundred, which looked like all the money she had.”
“I know, I hated it. But we couldn’t fine the other bitch of a mother and not her. Taking back the penalty after it’s already been issued isn’t so easy either,” he says.