Chapter Thirteen #3
Ravenna placed her bag on the floor next to her, and looked at him intently. “I’m actually very interested in the type of policeman you are. Are you someone who finds and punishes the murderer of a boy? Or do you put your head in the sand, and pretend not to see anything?”
“He sees everything,” Gemma assured. “You should hear him. He’s mad at anyone who pretends not to see.”
“How is Ines doing?” Valerio asked quietly.
“How do you think?” said Ravenna with a flare of fury. Then she shook her head and closed her eyes. Her next words were quiet and earnest. “She’s destroyed. I can’t imagine the pain.”
Gemma set two steaming mugs on the table, and kissed Valerio’s cheek.
“I’ve gotta make a call,” she said, and sauntered from the room.
Valerio watched her go, then returned his attention to Ravenna.
“What I don’t understand is why,” she said. “Why him?”
The difficulty, Valerio realized, was his own stupid slowness.
Gaetano’s murder had shocked him—in the truest sense of the word.
It was so unexpected, so violent, so personal, it had stripped his ability to think.
Overwhelmed by guilt, ashamed of his blindness, his ignorance, these were hampering him still—distracting him from the truth of the situation.
And what was the truth?
Gaetano had been killed for a reason. But Valerio couldn’t imagine what that reason was.
Had Gaetano been older, more savvy and powerful, there would have been ample explanations.
When a well-liked deputy became too influential, the boss had an obligation to put him in his place or risk mutiny.
But Gaetano was just a kid—too weak even to resist the unique tortures of Poggioreale.
What offense warranted such a violent and public death?
Drugs? No. Drug arrests were standard. They happened all the time.
Besides, Gaetano’s roommates were still safely ensconced. Gaetano had been singled out. Why?
“He must have known something that Errichiello didn’t want getting out,” Valerio realized.
“What was it?”
Valerio shook his head. “When I talked to him yesterday, he didn’t think he had anything to trade. He may not have known, himself.”
“I worried about him in jail,” said Ravenna. “He was too soft. I thought he would die inside.”
She clutched the hot cup, slowly raised it to her lips, her obvious agitation seeming to settle a little.
“If they were going to kill him,” she said, “why bring him out of jail first?”
Valerio sighed. “An execution like that is meant to send a message.”
“A message for whom?”
“Anyone involved with Gaetano—in case they had any thought of stepping out of line and…” He hesitated.
“What?” Ravenna pressed.
“Well, one message is for me, isn’t it?”
“What do you mean?”
Valerio stood, paced the small kitchen.
“I owed a favor and I thought it would be harmless to help this kid. I thought it meant I could get out. But Errichiello was reminding me: You never get out. His brother tried to warn me.”
Ravenna agreed. “You worked to get Gaetano released—and killed. That’s what it looks like.”
“Yes.”
“But it isn’t true,” she protested.
“You thought it was true,” Valerio said.
She pursed her lips and took a deep breath.
“What will you do?” she asked.
“There aren’t many options. I can turn myself in and lose everything, or I can do what Errichiello wants.”
Ravenna said quietly, “Isn’t there any other way?”
“I don’t have leverage,” he said. “Nothing to stop Errichiello from coming after me and my kids…even if I do turn myself in.”
“Oh.” Ravenna breathed the word, realization emerging.
Valerio’s mind was working, testing the walls, looking for a way out. Ravenna was clearly thinking, too, eyes focused on some distant point, forehead creased.
He gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “It isn’t your problem. You didn’t come here for this.”
She looked at him, then nodded slowly.
“I should go,” she said. “Thank Gemma for the tea, will you?”
—
Valerio watched Ravenna as she left, walking down the hall, then he closed the door.
Gemma, scrolling through her phone, glanced up as Valerio came into the living room.
“She seemed nice,” she said with a grin. “A nurse is good. Nurses are interesting.”
Valerio watched his daughter’s broad smile for a moment before he understood the subtext.
“Oh,” he said. “I’m not dating her.”
“Sure, you’re not,” said Gemma, still smiling.
There was a knock on the door—a soft double tap. Distracted, Valerio nearly forgot to bring his weapon. But Ravenna called out before he could ask who it was: “It’s me again.”
He opened the door.
Her face was flushed, and she was breathing hard, as if she’d run back up the stairs.
“What if we found out?” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“What if we found out what Gaetano knew? Maybe it’s enough to get Errichiello arrested…put him into jail or…I don’t know. Maybe it’s enough to give you leverage…so he lets you out.”
Valerio thought. “I don’t understand. What are you saying?”
She spoke slowly, as if trying out the idea. “I want to know what happened to Gaetano. I’m going to ask around…maybe it helps you if I find something.”
“No,” said Valerio. “Stay away. Leave it alone.”
She looked stricken, and he softened. “I’ll look into it,” he said. “I promise.”
She shook her head vigorously. “I knew Gaetano…. I know his girlfriend, Natale…and the kids Gaetano used to hang out with. I’m going to ask my own questions, whether you help me or not.”