Page 4 of The Italian Reckoning
This is Mafia business.
“I don’t care,” I snap, unable to stop myself. I latch onto that annoyance and flood it with every drop of anxiety that buzzes beneath my skin. “Mafia or not, this woman died and she certainly didn’t deserve to. So we’re going to do everything wecan to find out who she was and who put her here. And then we’re going to put them behind bars.”
The patrolman scoffs and finally looks up from his notes. “You don’t seriously believe that, do you? You know how this city works.”
My frustration swells like a wave and it takes all my restraint not to slap that notebook out of his hand. I don’t care how things work or how we should follow the unspoken, unwritten rules of the Mafia.
“The law is the law,” I bite out. “Or do I need to find someone more competent to run a search through the missing persons database?”
“No, Ma’am.” The officer starts to roll his eyes, then thinks better of it as he hurries away from me. Without his presence, the air feels lighter and I breathe deeply and instantly regret it when my lungs fill with the stink of dirt, dust, and old piss.
“You sure you’re good?” Amelia asks from where she’s back on her knees next to the body.
“I’m fine.”
“He’s right, you know.”
“I don’t care.”
“Sarah.” She gives me a pointed look over her shoulder. “Rocking the boat doesn’t do anyone any good. Look what happened at the gala. If ever there were a display of who is really in charge of this city, it’s that. If this turns out to be Mafia related?—”
“Then I don’t care!” Amelia, unfortunately, becomes the new target of my frustration. “Whoever this is, she deserves me doing everything I can to find out who did this to her. She deserves my best, and no Mafia family will stop that.”
“I’m not saying you shouldn’t do your job.” Amelia turns back to the body. “But you know where this path leads. If this haseven a drop of Mafia presence, we won’t be the ones handing out justice.”
I hate that she’s right. I hate that I’ve found myself in a world where the criminals call the shots and I, an officer for over nine years, am made to look like I’m the unreasonable one for following the law.
I pace away from the body, scanning the environment for anything that looks out of place while the rest of the forensic team mill around finishing up their investigation.
This poor girl has been taken, murdered, and dumped like waste on the edge of the city. There’s barely any civilization out here since most of these buildings are condemned or already crumbling.
I guess none of these strong families have land out this way, or it would surely be a thriving area with how quickly they rebuilt that hotel.
“Ma’am!” A voice from across the room calls to me. “I think we’ve found something.”
“What is it?” I step over discarded bricks, old rubbish bags, and shredded ancient newspapers to reach the forensic investigator taking several pictures of something discarded near the far wall just below a broken window looking out toward the rest of New York.
“Hard to tell,” she says, snapping a few more pictures. “But I think we’ve found our murder weapon. What is that… Saran wrap or something?”
My ankle weakens and I stumble to a stop next to her, my blood turning to ice. “What?”
“Right there, look.” She kneels, pulling an evidence bag out of her kit and freeing up my eyeline to her discovery.
A foot away from us sits some carefully placed Saran wrap on top of a wooden plank. Saran wrap that’s covered in makeup.
Oh, no.
2
SARAH
“You haven’t slept.” My captain places a plastic cup filled with lukewarm coffee down in front of me, sending the bubbles on top into a frantic spin.
Late morning sun peeks through the gaps in his blinds, creating an array of golden stripes across his crowded desk. It’s been hours since we found that body and I still feel like I’m in that cold, drafty building, staring down at her corpse.
“Is it that obvious?” My hair is coarse under my fingertips, but that doesn’t stop me from winding another strand around my fingers.
I need to shower.
