Chapter 24 #2
I pull my phone out, ready to take pictures. I feel like a spy in a blockbuster movie, or like a thief. I remind myself that I’m on the right side of the law. They are the ones who have broken the social contract repeatedly through murder and bribery. I’m only trying to bring them to justice.
I open the top drawer on the left-hand side to begin my search.
Inside, I find nothing but paperclips and envelopes.
I paw through them, searching for writing.
It’s difficult to see, and I’m worried that I’m glossing over something important.
I find a small journal with gilded edges, the kind of thing that’s sold in every chain bookstore.
It’s about the size of my palm and fits easily in my pocket.
I want to open it, but I don’t have time, so I move on to the next drawer.
I’m halfway through the desk when the light snaps on. Caught red-handed, I glance up to see Corello standing in the doorway with a gun. He points the weapon at me, his expression neutral.
My blood runs cold. This is the end of the line. In short order, he will find out about my brother and me. I’ve been unmasked.
I lower my phone, having not even captured one single image.
It clatters onto the desk with a sound that almost startles me.
I have time for one last ironic thought, and that’s what a horrible thief I am.
I couldn’t even complete one assignment before getting caught.
Thank goodness it’s only my life on the line, and not anyone else’s.
I would be exponentially more disappointed if I felt I was letting anyone else down.
Of course, Frankie will be heartbroken. He just confessed his love to me as we bared our souls to each other for the first time.
I don’t want him to think that all I cared about was digging up dirt on his father.
I realize suddenly that’s not the only reason I want to spend time with him.
I like Frankie. I may even love him. And because I know this is the end of our relationship, I wish I could go back and change things.
Maybe I would have allowed him to see the real me, the one who is still hurting after discovering her brother dead on the couch.
Maybe I would have explained why I’m convinced his father had a hand in it and asked for his help.
All that is irrelevant now. Corello is going to kill me and force Frankie to dispose of the body. My stomach flips under the realization that these are my last moments on the planet. There are a thousand things I wish I could do, but I’ve just run out of time.
“Relax,” Corello says, lowering his gun. “I didn’t realize it was you.”
I swallow heavily, my oxygen-starved brain having a difficult time getting up to speed. “I didn’t—” I walk back to my actions like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“I know,” Corello says. “You probably just had a hard time sleeping in a new place, and you were looking for a book to read.”
“That’s right,” I exclaim, grasping at straws.
I can’t believe he’s feeding me the perfect line to use. What’s even worse is that I know he’s doing it. There is no mistaking my actions in his inner sanctum. The desk drawer was open, and my phone was pointed at it.
The only explanation is that Frankie is on his mind.
He doesn’t want to admit that the woman his son brought home is involved in any kind of shady conspiracy.
He’s giving me the benefit of the doubt and telling me he knows.
I wonder what the fallout is going to be.
Obviously, in this moment, he’s not going to shoot me.
But going forward, there’s no telling what he will do.
As I stand there, frozen with a mixture of fear and guilt, he approaches me.
I flinch, yet I’m helpless to do anything else.
My heart speeds up to the point where I can hear blood rushing through my ears.
This is the moment I’ve pictured ever since Danny died.
Here I am, alone with my brother’s killer, and all our cards are on the table.
Some generous part of me yells out that Corello doesn’t yet know who I am. He knows that I’m not looking for a book to read, but beyond that, he’s not privy to any specifics. That is the only advantage that I have, since I’m sure he would react differently if he realized my actual plan.
I watch him come closer, and my eyes dart toward the open door.
Can I make it there in time? Will this thin veneer of civilization that has crystallized between us be shattered if I make a move?
I have to pass him to reach the door, and I’m not sure his generosity will extend that far.
What if he means to silence me some other way, like with his hands instead of his gun?
I force myself to meet his eyes, knowing there is little I can do in this situation.
But if these are my last moments, I’m determined to meet them head-on.
I exhale to expand my chest, doing my best to look threatening.
I don’t want him to think I’m defenseless, even though it’s obvious he holds all the power.
He stops mere inches from me, his gaze more curious than anything else. He scans my eyes for information which I don’t give him. I keep my mouth shut, knowing that Frankie’s feelings mean a great deal to Corello. It’s the one thing I have to bargain with in this moment, and we both know it.
Finally, Corello reaches for my phone. He picks it up off the desk and hands it to me.
My finger shakes as I retrieve it, nodding my thanks.
But just as he makes the handoff, he grabs my wrist with the opposite hand.
He’s much stronger than I expect, and the pressure nearly registers as pain. His eyes flash dangerously.
“If you hurt my son in any way, I will find you,” he says.
My jaw is stapled together with adrenaline; I couldn’t even speak if I wanted to.
“Let’s just assume that you were here for a book, and we can forget this ever happened,” Corello suggests.
I nod, grateful for his mercy. He releases me, and all my calculations about how to get away come back to me in a flash. I’m no longer worried about the optics of getting by him. I’ve been dismissed, and unless I want to challenge his authority further, I need to make myself scarce.
I shove the phone into my pocket and hurry to the door. As I leave, I can see him studying the desk. He wants to know what I was looking at, but he’s not going to confront me overtly. He’s given me a warning: back off if I know what’s good for me.
My entire body vibrates with terror as I force myself to walk back to the staircase.
Half of me wants to make a beeline for the front door.
I could let myself out, run down the driveway to the gate, and maybe scale the fence.
But of course, that won’t do. Corello has released me on the assumption that I’m romantically involved with his son.
He gave me strict instructions not to hurt Frankie, and by disappearing, I would only make things worse.
I stand there in the foyer, trying to decide which way to go. All the hard work I’ve put into fooling Frankie seems meaningless at the moment. I finally managed to convince him that I’m worthy of meeting his family, but then messed it all up on the same night.
Frankie’s message of love comes back to me, and I wish I could separate the two.
If only Frankie was a stranger I met at the library, and not someone so intimately connected to my brother’s killer.
But there is no space for wishes that can’t come true, and I’m terrified to remain under the same roof as the man who caught me rifling through his desk.
So, I turn right toward the front door. My heart continues to pound, as each new step brings a truckload of additional threats. The TV is still on in the living room, but now I can hear Frankie’s uncle stirring.
“Cisco?” Gio calls out.
I’ve got only seconds left before he gets too curious and walks around the partition to see me.
Corello has let me leave, but I’m not sure if Gio will be so magnanimous.
I reach for the door, half expecting an alarm to go off.
But luck must be with me because the house remains silent even as the doorknob twists.
Outside, the air is thin. My feet are bare since I left my shoes with Frankie, but there’s no helping that now. I can’t risk going back upstairs and potentially awakening Corello’s son. There will be questions I’m not equipped to answer, and I might lose the opportunity to escape with my life.
Setting my jaw, I rush down the porch steps and out into the driveway. It seems so much longer than it did when we arrived, possibly because I’m not in a car, but also because my safety is on the line.
I stick close to the road, even though Corello’s home is surrounded by trees.
They would provide excellent cover for an advancing army, or for a mob boss who didn’t want the world to know what he was up to.
I’m terrified of getting lost in here, maybe even meeting Frankie’s father or uncle in the dark.
My only thoughts involve somehow getting free, flagging down a ride, and getting out of here. I arrive at the gate to find it as solid as ever. There’s a light on in the gatehouse, so I know my time is limited.
I come up short beside the metal bars, gazing up at the decorative spikes on top. There’s no way I’m going over that, wearing this little slip of a dress. I’m outmatched by siege technology, locked away in this compound with no hope of escape.
As I stand there deliberating, the guard comes out to greet me. “Everything okay?” he asks.
“I forgot my tampons,” I say, grabbing the first lie that comes to me. It’s a little awkward, but I’m hoping that the sensitive nature of the situation will prompt the guard to keep quiet. In general, men don’t know what to do with a woman who is menstruating, and this guard is no different.
“Oh,” he says, turning bright red. I can see his eyes shifting away from me, hoping that he won’t have to hear anything more.
“If you could just let me out,” I suggest.
“Of course,” he agrees, reaching into the gatehouse to flip a switch.
The mechanism that controls the gate groans, and the bars begin to part slowly.
I have only seconds left before I’m free, but even now, I’m feeling overwhelmed.
I have visions of being caught and forced back up to the house.
Corello allowed me to leave, but I can’t imagine he thought I would run.
He probably thinks I really am in love with his son, and that whatever I was doing in his office was only in addition to a genuine romance.
The moment he discovers that he killed my brother and that my whole relationship with Frankie has been a setup, he won’t be so kind.
The guard is equally uncomfortable, which is good. I don’t have to make small talk while we wait. As soon as the bars are open wide enough, I slip through, pounding my way down the embankment until I reach the street.
Air enters my lungs in rapid bursts. I’m free. I’m alive. And I have nothing to show for months of work. Feeling angry with myself, and yet grateful to have survived, I pull out my phone to hail a cab.