Page 70 of The Italian Reckoning
“Because of that?” Bobby jerks his thumb toward my throat, sending a flush of shameful heat down my neck.
“Not exactly, no.” I’m about to tell him to back off when I’m reminded that he’s asked me several times over the past few weeks if I want to catch a movie—as far back as the day he asked me before I bolted out of here to confront my mystery biker man. I never directly said no, focusing on dropping hints rather than an outright rejection. You never fuck with the people who access your food, right?
But the love bites on my throat are a pretty clear indicator.
“Listen, Bobby?—”
“Don’t worry about it.” Bobby smiles brightly. “Drinks on the house. Consider it an apology for my attempts to cheer you up when you already had someone.”
Guilt worms its way high into my chest and I smile sadly. Best to leave it alone.
Despite Bobby saying it’s on the house, I fill up the tip jar with a handful of dollars and head off to work. I’m feeling less guilty by the time I slip into the mask I’ve perfected in the face of all my colleagues who witnessed my very public ejection fromBelle’s case. Most have moved on, but there’s still a few glances thrown my way.
The crazy cop from Montana chasing ghosts.
Little do they know.
I bury myself in cold cases and civilian disputes for the majority of the morning until a mid-morning donut run draws me out of my office and into forced socialization with the rest of the precinct. It’s someone’s birthday so I sign the card shoved into my hands and leave a vague message of celebration. I’m balancing two donuts and some terrible coffee, intent on heading back to my office, when something catches my ear.
“—attempted kidnap?”
“Yeah, lucky she got away. Honestly, never seen anything like it.”
“Come on, it’s New York. Shit goes down like that all the time.”
“Yeah, but not like that. The whole thing is pretty suspicious, don’t you think, especially after that Kara…”
The conversation ends when the two detectives discussing it head out of the break room and are lost to the precinct. No matter. My curiosity is spiked and I hurry back to my office, barely keeping all the powder on my donut. I set them down, dust my fingers off, and tap hurriedly through the database in search of the kidnapping.
Attempted kidnapping of a young girl. Could it be…?
There it is. I click the file and my heart somersaults up into my throat.
Shit.
Attempted kidnap victim—Mary Del Prete.
31
SARAH
Del Prete.
There’s no way she’s related to the billionaire family behind Del Prete Brewery, the one that just so happens to be Matteo Barati’s adviser.
It has to be a coincidence, surely.
There’s only one way to find out. Given that the attempted kidnapping has been filed in connection with Kara’s murder, I’m not allowed to have anything to do with the case, but there’s nothing stopping me from visiting interrogation. If there is a real connection here and Mary’s kidnapping is linked to Kara, then who knows what clues she holds?
With most of the department still busy with the donuts, there’s no one to stop me from heading down to interrogation where the two detectives I overheard earlier are signed into one room at the far end. Ducking past the sign in desk, I slip down the hall and ease myself quietly into the recording room adjacent to the interview and press the button bringing the audio to life.
A young woman sits on one side of the table with a steaming cup of coffee clenched between her trembling hands. Dirt coats her bruised knuckles, a large bruise covers her left cheek, herlower lip is split wide open and crusted with blood, and tears leak from her mascara-smeared eyes.
Why is she here and not at the hospital?
“Miss Del Prete.” One Detective, William, leans forward and places his hands on the table. “I understand you were picked up by a passing driver who found you stumbling in the middle of the road. You told the driver you were kidnapped. Can you elaborate?”
I barely refrain from rolling my eyes. William speaks with disbelief and a little accusation in his tone as if he doesn’t believe her.
