Page 32 of Deal with the Devil
He can’t possibly be; I can’t possibly have fallen in love with… there’s no way…
All thoughts about our relationship are pushed to the side.
I head to one of the ‘errands’ I had mentioned to Irene: the State Archives of Ragusa.
The building is old and made of limestone like most of the architecture throughout the hilltop city. It sits at a steep inclinethat makes my legs burn as I climb the winding walkway that leads toward the building’s double door entrance.
The place smells of paper and dust, filled with rows upon rows of shelves, all presumably housing records.
It’s not easy communicating with the clerk at the desk, a bespectacled brunette who seems to be around my age. She speaks no English and I know no Italian. We get by using our phones for translation, figuring out what the other is trying to say. She pops to her feet as soon as she realizes what I’m asking of her and rushes off to show me where the info is located.
“Grazie.”
I take a look at the birth record for Rafael Calderone, born to a woman by the name of Verona. Their address is listed on the document. I snap a photo of the piece of paper as well as copy the exact address down on my GPS app, determined to get to the bottom of this while I’m in Sicily.
The next day, I snag a taxi, showing the driver the address to Rafael’s childhood home.
It’s a long shot that any of his family still lives there, but it can’t hurt to scope out the area. It’s possible someone in one of the neighboring houses might remember him and can provide more intel.
The cab drives me across the hillside village to a neighborhood of tiny villas. Children of all ages play outside, chasing each other up and down an open field of tall grass, their laughter like a melody in the late afternoon.
I hesitate a second, then start toward the cluster of homes. Rafael and his family lived in number thirteen, but as I approach the villa it seems either no one’s home or it’s currently vacant. Probably the latter judging by the curtainless windows and lack of decoration. The other homes have some kind of character about them—a doormat or some wind chimes. Toys discarded out front.
But the thirteenth villa looks barren and cold.
“Looking for someone?” asks a woman from behind.
I whip around to face her, my pulse racing faster, though I force myself to keep calm. “Actually, yes. Maybe you can help me. I was… um, I was looking for the home that used to belong to the Calderones. Is this the correct one?”
The woman studies me a moment, her tangle of dark curls blowing in the wind as she folds her arms and then says, “Yes, this home was theirs.”
“Can I ask how you would know?”
The corner of her lip curls. “Rafael and I went to school together. He was my boyfriend.”
10
RAFAEL
The banquet hallthrums with polite laughter and the clink of cocktail glasses. I’m only half listening, my mind on more important matters like my next move against the Tucos. The deadline I gave them if Titus still wants his son alive and breathing.
Where the fuck he could be holding Portia prisoner?
The only reason I even showed my face at this damn dinner was for business purposes. I couldn’t weasel my way out of yet another obligation or risk pissing off investors.
I sip from my glass of bourbon and check the time on my wristwatch. Another ten, fifteen minutes tops, and then I’m getting the fuck out of here.
“Mr. Calderone, I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” says Baron Strong. He’s approaching with Portia’s former boss, Walter Finkle. Both men look unnatural in their suits and bowties, their press badges clipped to their chest.
I barely spare either a glance, my gaze at some point beyond their shoulders. “Why wouldn’t I be here? I own Metro News.”
“I’ve been watching Primetime DC,” says Baron, his tone accusatory. “Portia’s been absent for the past week.”
“What’s that got to do with me?” I snap.
Now he has my attention. He’s on the receiving end of my chilling glare, though he doesn’t back down. He raises his weak chin, his glasses slipping low down his pointy nose.
“I figured you might know what happened to her.”
