Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
It’s been half an hour with still no sign of Sophia. I look at my phone again, wondering what the holdup is. Every other day, if she’d be running late, I’d just do something else and wait for her to show up. But today, my mind is fixated on the revelation I had yesterday.
I’m dying to have another look at the file and see if there are any other inconsistencies I might have missed from shock and narrow-mindedness.
Just as I contemplate whether to wait a little longer or look for her, I hear Sophia’s muffled voice from outside the door in the hallway. She sounds agitated, so I quickly get up and walk over to the door, trying to listen in on the conversation.
“I said no, it was authorized,” Sophia says.
“Who authorized it?” a deep male voice asks, and I strain to hear their exchange.
“It came from all the way up, so there’s no reason to withdraw it now,” Sophia says, her tone tense.
I notice that the door handle is pressed down, but the door isn’t opening.
“This case is closed. There is no need to investigate or ask questions again. And I am authorized to withdraw the file if you use it for anything other than its intended purpose, as a reference,” the male voice warns.
“No!” Sophia yells, and the door handle starts to slip from her grip. I quickly open the door to find an older version of Del Moro standing before Sophia. I haven’t seen his father in years, but they look so alike that it’s impossible not to recognize him.
He has a tight grip on Sophia’s wrist, the hand she holds the file with, and his dark eyes lock onto mine.
“Let her go, now,” I say, my phone firmly clutched in my hand.
His gaze shifts down to my phone before he finally releases Sophia.
“We were just talking, weren’t we, Lee?” Del Moro, Sr. tries to play off the encounter while Sophia glares at him, rubbing her wrist. “I still need to insist on taking the file back to the archive, as it is being misused. There have been young, promising toxicology workers here who were fired for less. It would be a shame if you lost your team and your job just because of a misunderstanding, wouldn’t it?
” he taunts, keeping his eyes fixed on Sophia.
“Give him the file,” I say quietly.
Her head whips to mine, trying to tell me something with her eyes. “I’m not done with it yet.”
“We can’t risk your career over this,” I whisper back to her.
“Listen to her, Lee. Seems like Costa has more in her brain than her parents did,” Del Moro, Sr. says, snatching the file from Sophia’s hand before walking away, whistling.
“What was that?” Sophia asks, nearly yelling as we get back into the lab with the door closed.
“I could ask you the same! I won’t let you lose your job or position over a favor for me!” I yell back.
Sophia leans against her desk, her head falling back as she sighs heavily. “This whole case is so fucking suspicious. I’ve been going over it all morning, and while there may not be concrete evidence, there are small things that just don’t add up. I think you might be onto something.”
My heart races. “What small things?”
“Yesterday, I was trying to identify if there was any error in the data collection or a formal mistake. I was so focused on that I didn’t look at the bigger picture. I’m sorry for that,” she says.
“What small things, Sophia?” I ask again.
“Anyone with that high a dosage of heroin couldn’t have driven a car.
They would have likely been knocked out.
There’s a witness who saw the car trying to avoid the crash, but the official report states that it drove right into the wall at high speed.
And then there’s your statement…” She pauses, her expression turning sad.
“You told the police that your parents weren’t drug addicts and were on their way to an anniversary dinner.
But the report dismisses it, saying you were just a shocked child at the time and that there were signs of drug abuse. ”
“I was older than Chiara is now,” I huff.
“These are small inconsistencies, but what stands out the most is the blood type. You’re absolutely sure about yours?” Sophia asks.
I nod. “I’m sure.”
“I’m so sorry we lost the file again. Now there are more questions than answers. Del Moro coming over here to snatch the file from us is suspicious as fuck too, especially since he was the detective on the case,” Sophia says.
“He was?” I’m taken aback.
“You didn’t know?” she furrows her brows.
“No, I talked to someone else, a tall black man.” I try to recall, struggling to remember his name.
“Yes, Anderson. He’s Del Moro’s partner,” she confirms.
“Fuck…” My head spins with the realization. “Why would he tell us to let it be? Why doesn’t he want us to ask questions?”
“I have no idea,” Sophia sighs.
Shaken by what happened earlier, I try to focus on our work, but it proves difficult.
Del Moro, Jr. is already a nightmare to deal with, but his father is a whole different level of terrifying.
I do my best not to let my fear show, but what just happened confirms my suspicions that someone is trying to hide something about my parents’ deaths.
It only makes me want to dig deeper, even if it’s dangerous.
I need to figure out how to continue and get Sophia’s help without putting her in harm’s way. The situation is risky, but I can’t let it go.
It’s nearly time to go to the bar when we sit at our desks, discussing the results of the tests we made today. Joshua comes in smiling but focuses on me as he approaches my desk. “Hey.”
“You guys are late today. Wait, where’s Clay?” Sophia asks.
“He had to report to Swanson for a little longer,” he says, placing a package wrapped in black paper in front of me.
I look at it curiously. “What’s this?”
“Happy belated birthday…” he says, but then smiles and adds, “… or would you prefer early Merry Christmas?”
“Neither,” I say honestly.
His smile falters a bit, making me feel guilty. Reluctantly, I open the package and find a brand-new phone inside.
“What did you do?” I whisper, looking up at him in horror.
“You needed a new phone. Yours is broken, and you can’t go around with a broken phone,” he says casually.
“And what made you think you needed to buy me one?” I ask, my agitation growing.
“You told me you couldn’t afford it right now, and I can. Why shouldn’t I help? I care for you,” he counters, sounding a bit defensive.
“I don’t need anyone swooping in to take care of me,” I say, standing and grabbing my backpack. “If being with someone who doesn’t have enough money for new things isn’t good enough for you, then I’m not good enough, and you should look elsewhere.”
“That’s not what this is,” Josh starts, but I’m already heading for the door. “Fuck, Carolina, wait!” he calls after me, following me and grabbing my forearm to make me stop.
Pain shoots through me, and an “Ah” slips out of my lips, face scrunched up.
He lets go of me immediately, “What—” he starts.
“Don’t,” I warn, glaring at him.
It’s enough to make him step back, and I leave without another word from him.