Page 119 of Rider Daddies
It’s a simple question, but it feels so complicated.
The room echoes it back to me until I finally decide to answer.
“Correct. I’ve been working as a practicing lawyer for a year now.”
A lawyer who now has two men’s blood on her hands.
“But you’re originally from Italy?”
“Sicily, correct,” I say, fighting to keep my expression neutral. I know what he’s doing—he’s trying to juice the truth out of me like I’m a malleable piece of fruit.
I used to do the same thing as a lawyer—interrogate until something didn’t add up right.
It’s a good thing I know how to play the game.
“You and your mother moved to California nine years ago. Why?”
“My papa had an affair. We wanted to start afresh.”
“With the two of you in different states?”
“The border of Nevada is only an hour away.” I fold my arms over my chest. “Look, as much as I appreciate your concern, I’m bruised and battered and I still smell like hospital. I would like to go home.”
“And where do you call home? California or Nevada?”
This sly fucker.
“I have a few more questions to ask before I can let you go.” He consults his notepad. “The car crash. What happened?”
“It was dark. I didn’t see it coming.”
“Didn’t see what coming?”
“The coyote sprinting right at my car. I was lucky to miss it.”
“Hm,” says the cop. He turns over a page and straightens up. “The unit that found you the other night at the clubhouse, as mentioned a few minutes ago, was certain that you were the woman they were searching for. You heard your name, knew they were searching for you, but you didn’t go with them. Why?”
“Why do you think? I thought I was going to be in trouble.”
“Trouble?” The cop repeats the word like he suddenly doesn’t understand the definition.
“Yes, for escaping the motel. I thought they would return me to Manual Lombardi. He was the man who was running the ring.”
“Yes, I’m well aware.” The cop abandons the paper for a moment. “Manual Lombardi was killed, stabbed in the chest by a knife.” It’s nice to be recognized for my work. “Do you know who would’ve done this?”
“No idea. I got out of there the second I heard gunshots.”
“Did you see who was shooting?”
“All due respect, officer, I didn’t have time to stand back and watch the show when I had a small window of opportunity to escape my fate of being sold.”
“I understand.”
“But does it matter?” I lean in, curious. “Manual and all of his men were committing crimes, after all.”
“You’re right, and no victims were harmed, but it still begs the question as to who did it. If you have any idea, please come forward and let me know.”
“Of course I will.”
