Page 19 of Beautiful Evidence

"Can I come in?" My voice comes out tight, barely louder than the hum of a car passing on the street behind me.

She nods and closes the door, then unhooks the chain all the way and opens. I step inside into warmth and lavender and the faintest smell of orange rind. I've only been here a few times, but her apartment always smells like a recipe that just finished.

Her rotund frame wraps around me, and I hug her as I let out a few soft tears and sniffle into her curly wig. I don't want to let her go because I'm afraid, but I know I'm safe inside here. They won't find me, and I can try to get ahold of Enzo.

"Sit. I’ll get tea." She moves toward the stove with the same purposeful grace she’s always had, and I do as I’m told. The chair creaks under me, and I realize my hands are shaking as I sit and watch her bustle around the open space.

Aunt Rosa doesn’t comment on my nerves. She probably assumes she knows what's going on, that this is related to my father—and she's not wrong. But she pours water into the kettle and lights the stove.

"You look like you ran here." She doesn’t say it unkindly, just with that Rosa bluntness that leaves no room for pretense.

"I think I was followed," I tell her, "from the morgue. Two men. But I lost them near the south piazza." My voice is steady, but my fingers won’t stop curling into the fabric of my coat. This whole thing has gotten way out of control. I could've filed the report and been done with this, but after what Enzo told me, I'm afraid to. If I lie on it, Dr. Bernardi comes after me. If I tell the truth, every scumbag in this city might.

Rosa’s back straightens, and she sets down a mug in front of me and drops a tea bag into it. "Did they threaten you?" She doesn’t blink as she asks, but neither do I as I answer her.

"No. They didn’t have to." I shake my head and pull my coat tighter around my shoulders. "But I'm scared."

She bustles back to the kitchen as the kettle starts to whistle quietly and then comes back. After she fills my mug with hot water, she sits across from me. "Then you need to go to the authorities. Now." She leans forward and pushes the mug toward me but rests a hand on my knee.

I let out a short, humorless breath. "You think I haven’t considered that? I don’t even know who’s watching me. It couldbe the Bianchis. It could be my father’s people. Hell, it could be someone I haven't even thought of." I push a hand through my hair, breathing hard through my nose.

"Who can you call? Someone who can actually help you?" Rosa nudges the cup toward me again, and I sigh and pick it up.

I look away, ashamed of how this situation has gotten so messy and somewhat personal. "It's… complicated." I glance down, tracing the rim of my cup with one fingertip. I don't prefer tea. I'm more of a wine sort of girl. But I don't want to be rude, so I bring it to my lips and sip it.

"I blame your father," she says, clicking her tongue. "You need to get away from that job. I know you like it, but it's too close,Tesora. I know you love the science, but they can use you, manipulate you."

"I don't know what else I would do…" My voice cracks, and I hate how small it makes me sound. I press my palm against my forehead while I think.

The DNA is still inconclusive, but that’s no longer what keeps me awake at night. What matters is the new timestamp on a fluid marker. Matteo had a sedative in his system, and it metabolized too slowly to have been administered right before death. Which means someone drugged him earlier. Someone held him somewhere. And that changes everything. It means it wasn't a crime of passion. It was premeditated. And if it was my father, it changes how I see him.

I take a sip of tea, mostly to buy time while I try to push the tremble out of my voice. But I can't manage to fake being okay in front of Aunt Rosa.

"Well, I'm not letting you leave alone. I'll drive you." She goes to get up, but I grab her wrist.

"No," I blurt out, because I can only imagine what these men will do to her if they see her dropping me off. They'll follow her home and use her as leverage to get to me, and I'll never forgive myself. I suck in a breath and say, "I'll call someone."

I pull out my phone and scroll to Vincenzo’s number. He used "Vinny", probably as a joke since I told him it was a stupid name. I don’t even know what I’m going to say, but I hitDial.

He picks up on the third ring. "Leone? You okay?" His voice cuts through the line like a blade, and instead of scaring me, it makes me feel safer instantly.

"I got followed today. I was followed by two men outside of work." I stand and pace across the small kitchen, one arm wrapped around my waist. "They might've hurt your guys. I didn't see them." Enzo growls into the mic and grunts out his response.

"Are you home?" I hate how he sounds demanding, but part of me feels safer knowing he's that protective. I ignore the part where he is possessive, though.

"No. I’m at my Aunt Rosa’s." I move to the window, checking the street out of habit. It's dark and I don't see any movement or strange shadows. But that doesn't mean they're not watching.

"Is the place secure?" I hear a door slam in the background on his end of the line, then I hear an engine roar to life.

I look toward the door with its single deadbolt and flimsy chain, but I answer, "Yes." I say it quietly, my fingers still curled around the phone. I force the word out and lean against the windowframe, as if it can hold me up. Rosa smiles at me from where she's perched on the couch watching. I hope he hurries because I want to be out of here before they come knocking and find out I have a relative I care about.

"Stay there." It's a command, not a suggestion. Enzo hangs up on me, and the line goes silent before I turn to see Rosa's hopeful expression.

I sigh and drop the phone into my coat pocket. Rosa raises one eyebrow. "Was that him?" Rosa asks, not looking up from the stove.

"Yes," I say, walking back over to slump into the chair and pick up the tea again.

"You two don’t sound like friends." She turns around and scowls at me disapprovingly, the way my mother would if she were here, but I shrug it off.

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