38. The Wrong Man
The Wrong Man
“This is fucking BULLSHIT,” I shouted in a sing-song voice, rising with each word to match my agitation.
Nothing but the grey four walls surrounding me were listening as I paced back and forth in the holding cell.
I’d been in there for hours. Waiting. How was it, after every fucked-up thing I’d done in my life, every life I’d taken or line I’d crossed, this was the thing they locked me up for.
The one thing I didn’t do.
I let out a humourless laugh as I shook my head and paced back towards the steel door. If this was how karma worked, it could suck my huge, pierced dick.
I didn’t give a fuck that they’d arrested me. I’d always assumed I’d end up behind bars at some point, just like my papi nearly had. I’d grown up expecting it. Whatever they thought they had on me wouldn’t stick. My family would see to that. But the question was, how long would it take?
Every second I was locked in here meant Aria was out there, without me. That was what made me want to tear my skin from my bones. I knew my family and men would surround her and protect her, but that wasn’t the point. They weren’t me.
She needed me. And someone had planned this perfectly. They hadn’t just confined me to a cell; they’d taken me away from her when she needed me most. And more than ever, I was sure that someone was Callum D'Ardenzi.
As soon as I got out, I was coming for him.
“Buccini,” a police officer yelled through the door. “Your lawyer’s here.”
Thank fuck. Finally. We could get this dealt with, and I could return to my wife.
The door swung open, and the officer cuffed me again before leading me down the bleak corridor and into a meeting room.
One of my family’s most ruthless lawyers from our firm, Salvo Carbone, stood up to greet me with a firm handshake, causing the metal around my wrist to clink together.
I sat down opposite him at the bolted table as he opened his briefcase and pulled out a leather folder.
“They’re moving quickly,” he said, with no need for small talk or greetings.
He knew I wouldn’t want to waste time. He opened his folder and slid a document across the table towards me.
“They’re charging you with conspiracy to commit terrorism, attempted homicide, and possession of explosive materials and weaponry. ”
I leaned forward, skimming it without touching, then sat back.
“Quite the bedtime story. They’re imaginative.”
“They’re confident,” he replied, causing my shoulders to tense. I narrowed my eyes.
“What do they have on me?”
“Purchase records from one of your subsidiary construction companies and a shipment of controlled demolition compound, the same used in the explosive, signed out of your warehouse at the port twenty-four hours ago.”
I scoffed, leaning back slowly. “My shipments from the port are suspended, so that’s laughable. Who authorised it?”
“A mid-level port manager from your warehouse. He claims his credentials were compromised.”
“And let me guess, he has no alibi to suggest he wasn’t there?”
“Exactly.”
Right. Whoever set him up would see to it that he’d be dead within the next few hours.
“The explosion was triggered by a prepaid burner phone. They have cell tower data indicating the prepaid device was near the detonation,” he paused to stare at me. “It was activated using an identification tied to one of your warehouse properties.”
I chuckled, throwing my head back. “As if I’d be that fucking stupid. What else?”
“They’re building a narrative around you,” Salvo sighed. “Public motive. Political tension. Personal disagreements. You’ve been seen too often in arguments with the mayor.”
“They’re never arguments.”
“They’re tense. Tense enough to look incriminating.”
I tapped the table once, thinking.
“Am I going to talk?”
“No.” Salvo shook his head. I nodded, trusting his judgment on this. “Only answer basic identifying questions. Do not speculate. Do not give them anything more than vague facts and don’t try to explain context or clarify anything.”
That was going to be tough, but I knew it was for the best. They’d already decided that I was guilty. The only way to clear my name was to trust that my family’s corruption ties were strong enough to see me through this.
“How’s my wife?” I asked, leaning my arms on the table.
“She’s fine. Maximus is with her at the hospital. Luckily for you, it seems the mayor will live another day. He’s out of surgery but heavily sedated. He won’t be able to confirm that you intended to meet after the speech.”
That eased a deep ache in my chest that Aria might have lost another parent. He was alive. The explosion wasn’t meant to kill him; it was to silence him. He was safest under sedation and guarded in the hospital.
“Good,” I nodded, which caused Salvo to frown with confusion.
“Good?”
“If he could speak right now, it would only make things more complicated. They’d try to finish him off.”
He narrowed his eyes, realising what I was suggesting.
“You think this is bigger?”
“I know it is.” This was a full-blown organised scheme. A takedown.
A loud knock on the door indicated our time was up and that the detectives were ready for us.
Salvo leaned over the table. “One more thing,” he said, lowering his voice.
“A message from your brothers. The detectives are going to push you. They’ll mention your wife.
They’ll try to persuade you to cooperate for her sake. Do not lose your head. Stay calm.”
“Me? Lose my head? I have no idea what they’re talking about?”
Salvo’s lips curved slightly as he slammed the folder shut.
“If there’s something I should know before we walk into that room—” He gave me a suggestive look, a single moment for me to admit if I had any role in this.
“There isn’t.”
With a curt nod, he rose just as another, more impatient knock sounded on the door, and then two officers entered to escort us into the interrogation room.
“Signor Buccini,” began the older detective, who had introduced himself as Detective Ferri and I’d already pegged as the ‘good cop’ in this act. “Let’s keep this simple.”
“I’m a big fan of simplicity.”
The younger detective, Morelli, opened a file on the desk and showed me a picture of Aria and me posing for the media outside the event. “You were present on the rooftop when the device detonated.”
“Si.”
“And you’re recently married. This is your wife, Arianna Buccini, who attended tonight’s event with you.”
“Si.”
“Who also happens to be the mayor’s daughter.”
“Your detective work is impeccable.”
Salvo nudged my shoe with his under the table, a warning to behave.
“The same mayor who is currently in critical condition in the hospital.”
“I’m aware.”
Detective Ferri leaned forward. “You were seen having a tense conversation with the mayor just minutes before the blast.”
“I was speaking to him, yes. Tense?” I tilted my head with a frown. “Not that I recall.”
“You and the mayor are often seen in tense conversations, sometimes heated, in fact. Just two nights ago, you had dinner, and he stormed out, appearing very upset.”
“Good to know you keep up with the latest gossip columns, Detective.”
“There have been reports of tensions rising between the two of you since the mayor’s crime campaign came into effect.”
“Do you base all attempted homicide cases on rumour and inference?”
Detective Ferri clenched his jaw as Morelli pushed a photograph of one of my warehouses near the port across the table. “A container of controlled demolition compound was signed out of this warehouse twenty-four hours before the blast.”
“That’s what my lawyer tells me.”
“You own the company.”
“I own many companies. Doesn’t mean I personally load the trucks.”
Detective Ferri smacked his lips together in a pathetic attempt at asserting dominance. “You’re a powerful man, Signor Buccini. And powerful men don’t like losing control.”
“Is that a question?”
Silence. They allow it to linger as a classic intimidation tactic to unsettle me. I folded my hands loosely on the table and waited.
Morelli broke first. “Your wife was on that rooftop.”
“Si.”
“She could have been killed.”
“Exactly.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Detective,” I said evenly, holding his gaze. “You’re suggesting that I orchestrated an attack at a public event I was visibly seen at, in front of cameras while standing next to the woman whose safety I value above all else? Would I really be so reckless?”
“That’s not denial.”
“No,” I groaned. “It’s logic.”
Detective Ferri smirked. “Except your wife wasn’t standing next to you when the explosion happened. Was she? The CCTV from inside the building shows her heading to the floor below.”
I exhaled. “No.”
“Where was she going?”
“She went to the bathroom.”
“Convenient?”
“Don’t see how. It’s not like I can control my wife’s bladder.”
A flicker of irritation crossed Morelli’s face, which made me do a little happy dance inside. They were growing agitated because they realised they weren’t winning. I wasn’t going to give them anything.
“A prepaid device that activated the explosion was traced to a property that you owned nearby.”
I didn’t react. “Another wonderful convenience.”
“For you?”
“For someone.”
“Do you really expect us to believe that you are being framed, Santino?”
“I expect you to do your jobs.”
“That is what we are doing.”
“Debatable.” Another discreet kick from Salvo.
“If not you… Who else would benefit from attacking the mayor?”
There it was. They expected me to give them names, making their jobs easier so they could claim all the credit. But we never talk to the police, especially about our enemies, because that gives away our power to deal with them ourselves. And D'Ardenzi was mine to deal with.
“You’re the detectives.”
Morelli exhaled sharply, glaring daggers at me. “Tell us what happened in your own words, Buccini.”
“You’re asking me to speculate for you?” I raised an eyebrow.
“We are asking you to cooperate.”
“I thought that was what I was doing.”
“By saying nothing?”
“By not guessing.”