Chapter Fifty-Five
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
Georgia / Present
W hen the door opens to the interrogation room, I turn from the one-way mirror over to Jack Powell as he walks in. “Sorry. This was the only open space here when I asked you to come in.”
Somehow, I doubted that. I walked by at least two empty offices, but I don’t comment on that.
“Christ. Is the fucking AC on?” He opens the door and yells out, “Someone get some damn heat in this room!”
He closes it, pulling the chair out from across the table, and sitting under the draft coming from the vent. After a minute, it shuts off.
“I’m looking forward to going back to my own office,” he tells me, sipping a cup of coffee and making a face. “Especially to get away from whatever this shit is. Did they offer you anything to drink?”
“They” are the two officers who escorted me through the station. I wasn’t cuffed, but I might as well have been. “I’m fine.” I pause. “Thanks.”
He pushes the full cup of coffee away from him and leans back. “We had to make it look like you were being questioned,” he apologizes. “It would have looked suspicious otherwise, given the state of your father’s affairs.”
I already figured as much. “Is he going to strike a deal?”
Powell shifts. “I haven’t spoken to his lawyer, but I’d be surprised if they didn’t try going for a plea. I’ll know more within the next couple of weeks.”
All I do is nod, my eyes going back to the mirror and wondering who’s behind it.
He glances behind him as if he senses my curiosity. “There’s nobody back there.”
My eyes go to him.
His smile is friendly. “But if there’s somebody you want me to call…”
“No,” I say quietly, rubbing my goose-pimpled arms. “There’s nobody.”
He hums, stretching his legs out. “It’s none of my business—”
“Then don’t say anything,” I cut him off.
His chuckle is low. “I’m starting to see why you two got married. Look, I think Detective Danforth is a cocky motherfucker. You’re not going to see me trying to advocate for him anytime soon.”
“So, what is this?”
He lifts a shoulder. “Everybody needs someone. And you don’t exactly have a long line of people waiting out the door.”
Well, fuck you too. “I guess that’s what happens when you agree to help the FBI arrest your father. People aren’t keen on trusting you after that.”
If he disagrees, he doesn’t say. “Why exactly didn’t you want me to tell him that you were speaking to me? Wouldn’t it have made things easier for you two?”
There are some things I chose not to share with the federal agent in front of me. Like the meetings I had with my lawyer and Stefan Mangino. That would lead to way more questions than I was willing to answer. “For the same reason you wanted to make it look like I was guilty coming in here today. We need to make it believable.”
“How long do you plan on pretending?”
I stare down at the table. “Until it’s safe not to,” I finally answer.
“I promised you our safety.”
It’s not his promise I need though.
It’s Mangino’s.
“So, what now?” I ask him.
“Now, we wait.”
“That’s what we’ve been doing. Why did you want me here if there was nothing left to say?”
He smiles and stands. “Because there was someone I thought you might like to see.”
Knocking twice on the opposite door, he waits until it cracks open.
I stand, gaping at the woman I haven’t seen in years. She looks so…different. Her hair is white. Longer. Her wrinkles are more pronounced. But her smile is just as warm. “Mrs. Ricci?”
She walks in. “Hi, sweet girl.”
I turn to Powell. “This is the witness,” I realize, blinking in awe. Mrs. Ricci went to the FBI to tell them what she knew.
She gives me a hug, squeezing me tightly against her. In my ear, she whispers, “I told you I was going to do right with my freedom.”
I peel back, swallowing the lump in my throat. “I thought something bad happened to you.”
It’s Powell who says, “When we promise protection, we stand by it. Remember that, Georgia.”
Paying him no mind, I give my former housekeeper a quick once-over. “You look good. Really good.”
She brushes my face, letting her eyes drift over me. “I wish I could say the same. When was the last time you had a proper meal and a full night’s sleep?”
Her bluntness is welcoming. “It’s been a while. I’ve been a little busy.”
Mrs. Ricci turns to Powell. “Can I have a few minutes with her?”
He dips his chin. “I’ll be outside if you two need me.”
When we’re alone, she takes my hands in hers and studies me with concerned eyes. When her gaze lands on my face, she says, “When you told me it was for love, did you mean it?”
My eyes widen at the question. How does she remember that conversation? It’s been years since we had it. “Why—”
“Answer me.”
I take a deep breath. “At first, no.” Her lips twitch, but they don’t fall like she knows the answer already. “But it grew, just like you said it would. It became…something. Raw, maybe. But something real.”
“Then how did you wind up here?”
Rubbing my lips together, I peer at the closed door and then to the cameras in the corner of the room. The light isn’t on. “I did it because I love him. We both did things and lied about them, but I don’t think either was out of malicious intent. I did what I needed to do to make sure he got out of the line of fire.” Wincing at my choice of words, I correct myself. “I tried to get him out of the line of fire.”
“He’s alive, sweet girl.”
“He almost wasn’t.”
“That wasn’t your fault,” she tells me softly.
“All of it is,” I disagree, earning me an unfavorable expression. “Him loving me is why he was there. He would have done anything for me, and that’s why I needed him to hate me instead. So, no. I lied to you back then. It wasn’t for love. It was…convenience. A lie. A rouse. But when it blossomed…” My throat thickens. “It was ugly and beautiful all at once. And I may not get it back, but at least I know he’ll be okay one day.”
Her hands tighten around mine. “All love is a little ugly, Georgia. That’s what makes it real.”
All I can do is lift my shoulders. There’s nothing else I can say. I did what I needed to. He’s gone, just like Stefan Mangino wanted him to be.
She lets go of my hand to cup my face, brushing away a tear I hadn’t realized I’d let fall from the ducts I fought them to stay in. “I will make sure your sacrifice is not in vain, child.”
When she lets go, I clear my throat and try not to feel the absence of her warmth. “Maybe we both can do good with our lives now.”
Her smile grows.
“Are you happy?” I ask.
“Happier than I have been in a long time,” she admits, telling me exactly what I need to know in order for relief to flood my tight ribcage. “The question is, are you?”
We both know I’m not. “I will be. One day.”
Sympathy curls her lips. “One day,” she repeats.
During our hug goodbye, I ask her one last favor as quietly as I can. “Go after Nikolas. Nobody else. Leave the rest to me.”
I can only hope when we depart that she knows who I’m talking about.
*
The deli is closed to the public, and only I know the reason why when I walk in to find two men in the same spot as before.
It’s the man across from Stefan Mangino who stands first to greet me. “Ms. Del Rossi. I’m Isiah Cross. I’m Mr. Mangino’s attorney.”
I take his hand. “Did Evan Maloney send you the transfer paperwork and closing documents?”
“He did,” the lawyer says, gesturing for me to sit. I slide into the booth and stare at the paperwork in front of me. “All I need is a signature, and the sale will be complete.”
Wetting my lips, I reach for the pen when I hesitate. “Carlo Salvatore?” I read under the name associated with Stefan.
“It’s a business alias, of sorts,” he explains nonchalantly. “For privacy reasons.”
I doubt it’s for privacy, but I don’t bother questioning him. “And our deal?” I ask, lifting my gaze to meet his.
“I will not touch your father unless he gives me a reason to, nor will I go after you or your precious detective.” He says it like he’s bored.
When I nod and pick up the pen, I stop as the tip touches the paper when he adds, “You should have included money in your bargain. A nest egg for your fresh start.”
“Then it wouldn’t be a fresh start, would it?” I counter matter-of-factly, signing my name in cursive where his lawyer directs me to. After all the papers are completed, I lean back in the booth. “I never wanted money. If I did, none of this would have happened. All I want is peace.”
As his lawyer collects the paperwork and puts it into a manilla folder, Stefan Mangino extends his hand out to me. “Then peace is what you’ll get.”
I get a chill as soon as my hand fits into his.
Wanting to leave as soon as possible, I get out of the booth and pause when he says, “I hope you get everything you want out of life, Georgia. It seems to me like you’re not the only one who’s gotten a second chance to live it.”
Swallowing, I look over my shoulder at him, wondering what he means.
All he says is, “Volley had to go. He knew too much, thanks to your father. You’re very lucky that he was a bad shot.”
I pale.
Lincoln.
“Good luck,” he offers me.