Page 45 of Wish I Were Here
I open my mouth at his use of the phraseshake down, but then I quickly close it. I really don’t want to know.
“Nobody at either of those hospitals could find any record of your birth. So that leaves St. Anne’s. It’s the only hospital left that was delivering babies the year you were born. So that must be it.”
“Okay. And was Fabrizio able to shake—uh, I mean, question someone at St. Anne’s?”
“He was able to confirm what Uncle Vito suspected. The records from thirty years ago are stored in some old file boxes in the basement. They’re in the process of moving to electronic records, but they haven’t converted anything that far back yet.”
It’s all starting to come together for me now. “And we’re going to—” This is crazy.
“Yep. We’re going to break in and find the file.”
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing next to Luca’s Lincoln Town Car and staring at a broad-shouldered white man named Fabrizio. When we arrived in the hospital parking lot, Luca got out and hugged the guy like they’re old friends. Or I guess cousins, in this instance. The Morelli family tree has a lot of branches.
We’re in the very back corner of the lot, standing under a dim fluorescent streetlight that’s flickering on and off. A red sign with the wordEmergencyglows on the building in the distance.
“Fab, man, thanks for hooking us up,” Luca says, pounding him on the back.
“When Vito told me the favor was for you, of course I agreed to it.”
There are an awful lot of people in this town who are eager to help Luca. I eye his wide grin suspiciously. Maybe all that good-guy friendliness is a cover. Maybehe’sthe Mafia boss.
But then Fabrizio says, “Thanks again for your help when my grandma was sick,” and I start to put the pieces together.
Luca waves him off. “It was nothing.” And then, almost like he’s trying to change the subject, he turns to me. “Anyway. This is my friend Catherine. She’s the one whose mother we’re looking for.”
Fab holds out a hand, and I shake it.
“I really appreciate your help,” I say.
“Sorry your mom took off. That’s rough.”
“Thanks.” I press my lips together, strangely moved by these people who are all willing to help me. Thanks to Luca.
“So, what do you have for us?” Luca’s voice cuts into my thoughts.
Fabrizio turns to the car next to us and reaches in the open window, pulling out a bundle of clothes. “This is for you, Catherine.” He shoves a pile of blue fabric into my arms. “And you.” He hands Luca some sort of coveralls.
I unfold the pants and shirt in my hands and find that I’m holding a pair of scrubs. “What is this for?”
“These are your disguises.”
I give the scrubs a shake. “Luca told me to wear black. I imagined us crawling into a broken window or something.”
“Luca watches too many movies. To get into the basement, you’ll need to blend in.” Fabrizio hitches his chin at the clothes in my hand. “Not roll in looking like you’re about to rob the place.”
“Makes sense,” I agree.
“Luca, you are…” Fabrizio pulls a hospital ID badge from his pocket and squints at it. “Janitor Malik Osman.”
Fab holds out the badge, and I catch a glimpse of Janitor Osman as the ID changes hands. He looks to be in his midthirties with brown eyes and wavy hair similar to Luca’s. Though Malik’s skin is slightly darker and his cheekbones more pronounced, Fabrizio has done a pretty good job of finding a match for Luca that won’t draw anyone’s attention.
Fabrizio hands over my badge. “Catherine, you’re Dr. Daphne Dawson.”
I take the badge and flip it over. My mouth drops open. “You’re kidding.”
Dr. Dawson is an older Black woman with short, silver-streaked curly hair. For the record, I’m twenty-nine and havelong blond hair and blue eyes. “I’m not going to pass as this woman. She looks nothing like me.”
“It’s the best I could do on such short notice. Here.” He holds out a blue surgical cap that matches the scrubs. “You can wear this on your head. Maybe that will help.”
