Chapter 14
Chapter fourteen
The drive is quiet, too quiet.
But again, what do you say when you drunk-kissed your ex and allowed him to put his lips all over you.
The radio is low, but awkwardness swirls inside the blacked-out Maserati Quattroporte. Our adventure to get here has been quite the epic quest. After sneaking out the back of my house, we caught a rideshare back to Dominic’s office. From there we got into his car and drove off.
I run my hand along the luxurious interior.
Dominic has done very well for himself after coming from such humble beginnings.
Glancing over at him, I take in the tailored charcoal suit and fancy watch.
A long time ago he used to be the son of a baker.
Now here he is, a big-time investigator with a million dollar enterprise.
Embarrassment sweeps through me as I glance down at my casual attire.
I’m getting way too comfortable in sweatpants, a hoodie, and sneakers.
Dad would be very upset with me if he saw me looking like this.
But I am injured and it’s too hard to put on business clothes when I’m in so much pain.
Besides, with someone trying to hunt me down, I need to be prepared to react at any moment.
Dominic keeps his eyes fixated on the road. His fingers grip the steering wheel tight as we drive down the highway. He’s acting like he wants to say something but doesn’t know how.
I lean back against the seat and watch the road signs pass. We’re about a mile from the rest stop exit and he still hasn’t mentioned anything about last night. Maybe the drinks did get to him.
Taking the exit, Dominic maneuvers the car off the highway and down the off-ramp, taking a right at the light.
Dominic turns off the road and drives through a gate.
“Is this a rest stop?” I ask.
Miles of chain link fence topped with barbed wire surround us.
“It says it on the sign right there, Rest Stop.” Dominic points out. He drives down the road then parks next to a few other cars in front of the check-in building.
After opening his door, Dominic walks around the Maserati to open mine for me.
“Thank you.” I try not to look at him as I step out into the yard.
Diesel and burnt rubber hits my nostrils along with the slight scent of coffee.
The truck yard is bustling with engines rumbling to life. Some men are pumping gas, others are getting food, or heading to the bathroom. No one pays us any mind. It’s like we’re invisible.
“Should we go into the building and ask where he is?” I shield my eyes from the sun as I look out into the sea of parked eighteen wheelers.
“No. People might not know who he is. And if he is around I don’t want to do something to scare him off.
He’s potentially working for mafia people, he might think we’re trying to off him.
” Dominic scans the yard. “Come on, let’s look around.
I have a picture of the truck and the license plate. I’ll know it when I see it.”
We walk side by side down the rows of eighteen wheelers. A few of the truckers standing around give us sidelong glances, but don’t say anything. I’m sure it’s an interesting sight to see a well-dressed business man and a woman in sweats walking a truck lot.
“There are so many, this is going to be like looking for a needle in a haystack.” I groan.
“Not necessarily.” Dominic grabs my arm.
“That’s Rafael’s truck right there.” He points to a red eighteen wheeler that doesn’t have a trailer attached.
It’s parked at the end of the row near the chain link fence.
It looks like Rafael tried to squeeze the truck in there, like he didn’t want to be noticed.
Dominic reaches into his suit jacket, retrieving a gun. He looks around. “Stay behind me.”
“Okay.”
As we walk closer, there’s no one in the driver’s seat. Dominic circles the truck with his gun positioned low. He calls Rafael’s name a few times but there’s no response.
“He’s probably asleep in the sleeper cab.” I step on the running boards and hoist myself up. Making a fist I knock on the passenger door. No one responds and I don’t hear any movement inside.
“Cipi what are you doing?” Dominic comes around the side of the truck.
Wrapping my fingers around the handle, the door gives at the slightest pull. “It’s not locked.”
“Wait,” Dominic calls but I’m already climbing inside.
Moving around the passenger seat, I step into the center aisle that leads into the sleeper bed.
“Wow, it is very roomy in here…” My voice trails off as a horrific sight meets my gaze.
Dominic throws open the passenger door and climbs inside. “Cipi, I told you to wait for me.”
I grab his arm and point. His eyes grow wide.
Lying sprawled across the mattress is Rafael Longo.
He’s dead.
Glazed unblinking eyes stare at the ceiling as a circle of red protrudes from his gray shirt. Blood soaks into the cotton, then spreads outward.
“Fuck.” Dominic puts his gun back into his shoulder holster. “They got to him first.”
“Someone must have known we were onto him.” I take a step closer and look at stains on the shirt and bed. “The blood looks fresh.”
“I guarantee they shot him with a silencer.” Dominic growls. “Don’t touch anything.” He pulls out his phone, presses a button, then holds it to his ear.
A shiver runs through me. I had been shot with a silencer and if things had turned out differently I could’ve been in the same predicament as Rafael.
Placing my hands on my knees I bend down slightly to look at him.
The trucker is in his late sixties, with white hair and a wrinkled face.
His open hand has large calluses, while the other is hidden under the blanket spread haphazardly across him.
The bulge beneath it makes me think he’s holding something.
I glance back at Dominic to make sure he’s not watching me. His back is turned to me and he’s looking through the driver area while talking on the phone.
Lifting up the blanket slightly, I see something clutched in his cold dead fingers.
A raven feather.
The Marconi’s strike again. But how?
A long bruise is slowly appearing on the side of Rafael’s face. Scratch marks highlight his hands. He must have put up a struggle before he died. Gently I pry open his hands and let the feather fall to the floor.
“The cops are on their way.” Dominic turns around and I point to the feather on the floor. “Figures,” he scoffs.
“Do you have a plastic bag?” I ask.
“What for?”
“To bag the feather, maybe your contact from the agency can analyze it for fingerprints.”
Dominic stares at it. “It’s possible but it might be tricky due to the feather’s texture. But it’s possible. I’ll wait for the cops to get here and see if they think it’s worthwhile. I can’t tamper with a crime scene.”
I roll my eyes. “Of course you can’t.” I should have taken the feather myself.
Frustration fills me as I stare at Rafael’s lifeless body.
“Back to square one,” I groan. “Fuck.”
I hate feeling like a sitting duck.