Chapter 39 Angelo
Angelo
I’m struggling to deal with the fact the day has gone so badly wrong, and it’s not even eleven a.m. yet.
The coppery scent of blood lingers in the air, even though someone has opened the sliding doors to the terrace where gauzy drapes flutter in a gentle breeze. The dark red-brown stain on the powder blue antique Persian rug jars.
It may never recover.
Like Matteo.
A maid appears in the doorway with a cleaning cart. She follows my gaze, and the color leeches from her face.
“Not now,” I bark, raking my hair with my fingers and wishing someone would bring me a coffee. I didn’t get the chance to drink mine earlier, which is why I have a thumping headache.
Caffeine dependency is a bitch.
“Any idea how the suspects accessed the private elevator?” Kane shakes his head. We have very little to go on so far. Matteo is in a coma. The doctors say it will be touch and go for the next seventy-two hours. At least.
It’s sheer luck he’s not dead. Although he may wish he had died if he does wake because there’s a strong chance he’s sustained brain damage.
But I’m more concerned about my sister.
“I’ve sent the images of the two men to Milo to see if his facial-recognition program scores any hits, but they must have had help from someone in the hotel. Someone who could override the elevator security system.”
That narrows the list of suspects down.
“Let’s go and have a chat with Roman.” He’s the hotel’s head of security. I don’t imagine he’s betrayed us, but he’ll be able to pinpoint who else it could have been.
Roman called in sick, the manager tells me, which makes him a person of interest.
“I need an address.” The manager nods and taps a few keys. Sweat beads his brow, and when he hands over the printed sheet of paper, his hand trembles.
The man’s terrified.
Persons unknown took my sister from the hotel on his watch. The buck stops with him, and he knows it.
“I want a list of all staff on duty last night. Email it to me.”
The manager nods. “Yes, sir.”
I’m about to step out of his office when a thought occurs to me.
“Has my father been here in the last week?” Dad usually stays at our flagship hotel when he’s in the city; it’s closer to Remington’s sordid club, where he’s a regular patron.
Which reminds me… I need to investigate why my father is suddenly so pally with Tim Remington. Dad never cultivates friendships unless there’s something in it for him.
“Um, yes. He was here two days ago, sir.”
“Wednesday evening?”
“Yes. He arrived around seven p.m. and left a couple of hours later.”
“Was he with anyone?”
“Um, I don’t recall, but I can check the feeds?” I shake my head. Kane can do that for me.
I have what I need for now, so I leave without a backward glance. The sooner we talk to Roman Harris, the better. If he’s genuinely ill and his absence is purely coincidental, then I’ll send him some flowers. And if he has something to hide, then he’s a dead man.
Roman Harris lives in a modern apartment complex downtown with various amenities, including a security guard on the door. But since the man recognizes me straight away, he lets Kane and me in with a nod.
We take the elevator up to the fifth floor. Roman’s door is at the end of the corridor; he has a corner unit with expansive views across the bay. At least I assume so from the outlook.
The corridor is silent. No nosy neighbors peeking out or TVs blaring away. I knock but hear nothing from inside the department. Either Roman isn’t there, or he’s dying in bed from some awful disease.
It takes Kane seconds to bust open the lock. For a man who works in security, Roman really ought to have invested in better quality locks.
Once inside, we quickly move from room to room, but it’s clear Roman is long gone. We find a few random items strewn across his bed, and the drawers in his closet are all pulled out and emptied.
The man left in a rush. Or so it would seem.
Looks like we now know who helped the two men gain access to Fina and Matteo’s suite.
Roman better hope I don’t catch up with him because he won’t like it when I do.
We have nothing. No leads. No clue who left Matteo for dead and abducted my sister.
My pregnant sister.
Matteo’s still in a coma, and the doctors don’t know for sure if he’ll ever wake. And even if he regains consciousness, there’s no guarantee he’ll remember anything.
Kane’s on the phone when I finish ransacking Roman’s bedroom. There’s nothing interesting. The man doesn’t seem to have much of a life.
“Hang on, let me put you on speaker so Angelo can hear.”
“Angelo,” intones a familiar voice. My nerves prickle in irritation, but given the severity of the situation, I force myself to remain polite. We need Milo’s help, and I can’t afford to piss him or his Russian brother-husband off.
“Losing people is becoming a habit,” he continues in his weird monotone voice.
Choosing to ignore his little dig, I say, “Have you been able to identify the two men?”
“Of course.” I can almost see him rolling his eyes like I’m an idiot for suggesting otherwise.
“And?”
“Goons for hire. Last seen in the company of Domenico Santini.”
“Santini’s dead.”
There’s a long pause while Milo doesn’t acknowledge my update. Finally, he speaks.
“Interesting.”
My temper frays. “Is that all you found? My pregnant sister is fucking missing!”
Kane drops the book he just picked up. “What? Fina’s pregnant?”
“That changes things somewhat,” Milo agrees, although I don’t detect any increased urgency.
“We know Santini was working with my father, and as of last night, Dad seems very cozy with Tim Remington. Can you dig into Remington’s activities and see what you can find? Remington is not my biggest fan, and I wonder if he’s pulling strings somehow.”
I doubt very much he’s involved, but something’s not adding up.
Remington is a businessman, even if he has connections to the underworld, but why would he hurt Fina when she’s my father’s daughter?