Page 33 of Tormented Diamonds
“Yes, we know that.” Gianni’s narrowed gaze seeks mine as he steps closer, a quick flare of his nostrils the only outward sign of his impatience. “I need more than an unimaginative moniker.”
“I don’t know his real name. The man murdered my wife, Marchesi. It’s not like we had a standing tee time, for Christ’s sake.”
“Think harder, Reese. We need identifying details.”
Dad gives him a glassy stare. “He was tall with red hair, beady eyes, and horse teeth.”
Each word is an ax swing to the chest.
Just like that, I’m back in my parents’ living room, kneeling over my mother’s body.
“I know what he fucking looks like, too. I need a name or a location.” The sharp edge in Gianni’s tone pulls me back from the darkness. As the haze clears, I notice he’s talking to my father, but keeping his eyes on me … watching, protecting. “It’s not just Becca’s?—”
“I’d really like to speak to my father alone, if you don’t mind,” I say in one rushed breath.
He arches a dark, slanted eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”
I hope this doesn’t blow up in my face, but I’m tired of spinning in the same tired circle.
I clear my throat, my heart beating like a chaoticdrumline. “You mentioned earlier you needed to check in with some people. Why don’t you do that and give Dad and me some time to catch up?”
He gives me a hard stare, which I answer with a silent plea to let me handle this. It feels like my heart is going to hammer through my chest until he clenches his jaw and lets out a defeated exhale that lets me know while he isn’t happy, and it’s taking everything he has to walk away, he’s doing it anyway … for me.
“Right, thanks for reminding me,” he says, his clenched teeth trapped behind his strained smile. I nod pleasantly as his gaze shifts between my father and me. “I have my phone if you need anything. I can be here in minutes. If not, don’t forget I have no less than ten men circling the perimeter who can intervene immediately.”
“We’ll be fine.”
Giving me one last volatile look, he walks out the door, leaving the two of us in uncomfortable silence.
After moments of fidgeting, my father turns to me, all the hostility drained from his face. “Okay, he’s gone. You can tell me the truth, now.”
I sigh.Same old Dad; hears everything, but listens to nothing.“I already have.”
He stares at me, his eyes narrowing. “Christ, you really love him, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“If we hurry, we can make it through Connecticut before he realizes you’re gone.”
I smile. His weak delivery tells me he knows it’s a useless offer, but I don’t fault him for trying. In fact, in some dysfunctional way, it may be the first time I’ve truly felt like his daughter instead of a piece of depreciating real estate. However, his Hail Mary gives me an idea. One I know I’m going to catch infinite hell for. “Would you settle for Hackensack?”
Chapter Ten
BECCA
Hackensack, New Jersey
“You plan on telling me why we drove all the way to Hackensack to eat at a dump?”
I look up from my menu to find my father staring at me, his eyebrows lowered and pinched together. “A friend recommended it.”
“Are you sure they’re your friend?” He glances around the near empty restaurant, an elderly couple and an anti-social man huddled over his plate our only companions. “Maybe this is their way of getting rid of you.”
“Stop being such an elitist. Some of the best restaurants have unassuming exteriors.”
A valid argument if the exterior ofCucciola’s Trattoriahadn’t already bypassed unassuming and landed in something straight out of a B-grade horror movie. He’s right. It really is a dump, which cranks the coils of suspicion even tighter.
Of course, I’m not telling him that. I’m also not telling himthe reason we’re here is because my husband can’t control his volume when he’s agitated. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but after multiple times of hearing Gianni yell in his phone about “Bobby atCucciola’s”,my curiosity got the best of me.
