Chapter 18
Camillo Vicari
Silver River, South Mississippi, USA
Daisy Parker was a pitiful sight when I pulled her out of the trunk. Her face was all red from crying and her clothes were covered in vomit. As soon as she set foot on the ground, she collapsed in front of me, shaking and gasping for air.
I rolled my eyes. I had no patience for drama.
“Andiamo,” I grunted, digging my hand into the hair at the back of her head, dragging her with me into the house.
Even though the mansion was isolated, I didn't want to take any chances.
She complied, keeping pace with me despite the tremors that still shook her body.
We entered the hall of the spacious home.
It had been a dark, aging structure, but I renovated it as soon as it was bought.
I wasn’t into minimalist crap, nor did I have a taste for anything fancy, so I asked for something simple.
Practical. This resulted in an interior with light wood flooring, quality woodwork, and plaster walls with molding here and there.
It was cozy enough for my stays in Mississippi whenever I visited my brother, and properly adapted and isolated to deal with unforeseen events.
I dragged Daisy upstairs, still holding her by the hair, only letting go when we reached the room for special guests.
It was a room like any other, except for the locks on the outside of the door and the bars on the windows.
No one was getting out, and that was its exact purpose: to be a makeshift cell.
Of course, it also had the added advantage of being soundproof, to control the noisiest guests.
Daisy dropped onto all fours in front of me, trying to control her own body.
“Motherfucker...” She gasped, and I raised an eyebrow. As expected, she wasn’t that weak. “I almost suffocated.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets, rolling the bullets that were still there between my fingers.
“Would you prefer a bullet through your skull, ragazza?”
She crawled to the bed, digging her hands into the duvet to pull herself up. When she sat up, she gave me a look that was as exhausted as it was resentful. “‘Ragazza’?” she repeated.
“It means girl.”
“I know what it means, you animal!” She hissed. Little, feisty thing. “I'm almost thirty, so don’t call me that.”
My eyes widened and I had to use every ounce of willpower to keep my jaw from dropping.
I reached for the switch on the wall to my left and turned on the light to get a better view, surprising myself again.
Even as miserable as she looked at the moment, no one would have guessed she was over twenty-three.
She was small in stature and size, with a face of delicate, feminine features.
Her lips were neither thick nor thin, they were beautifully shaped, even…
inviting. The same could be said about her eyes, those sparkling peridots that made her look like a curious little ferret.
Nothing pointed to her real age, nothing.
Not that a woman in her thirties or forties looked old, far from it.
However, they certainly didn't look like that.
I wrinkled my nose.
Usually, I wouldn’t pay attention to the appearance of those I intended to eliminate, but it was depressing to see such a woman with such a petite figure at that age. Small breasts, small buttocks, skinny thighs, a frame so fragile it looked like glass.
Bones for the vultures.
Still, I couldn't help imagining what it would be like to have those legs over my shoulders...
I cleared my throat, shaking off the absurd idea.
“I recommend you choose another way to address me.” I simply warned her.
“What are you going to do with me? Why haven't you killed me yet?”
Laughing, I scratched the light stubble covering my jawline. “’Yet’ is the correct word, Signorina Parker.” I said, placing a hand on the doorknob. “At the moment, let’s say your death is inconvenient.”
“My family will ask questions,” she fired back. “My best friend will look for me. Her name is Olivia Goodwin, I believe you've heard it before.”
I allowed myself a long smile, taking a step back, longing to get out of there and jump into the shower.
But the truth was that this implicit threat amused me.
“The District Attorney,” I recalled. I’d seen them that afternoon, walking into the movie theater with the kind of intimacy you see in an old lesbian couple.
“Don't worry, Signorina Parker. Tomorrow you'll call your famiglia and your friend, and you’ll make sure they don’t come looking for you. Capisci?”
“No matter what I say, if I disappear, they won’t believe it.”
“That's why you're going to be creative. Otherwise, your dear friend Olivia will meet the same fate as her predecessor. Believe me, my secret talent is making a murder look like an accident.” She stared at me, wide eyes, parted lips, terror written on every line of her face. “Buonanotte, Signorina Parker.”