Page 89 of A Week Away
“Did they say anything about Luca?”
“They’re looking for him. He must have given the Feds the slip.”
Which was perfect. Cass came out and Aunt Suzie said, “Well, I’ll give you two a moment.”
He stepped out and closed the door. Just as well, I didn’t really want to be invited in. “So, are we done?” I asked. “I can go home and you’ll leave Dom Reilly alone?”
“I wasn’t really gonna do anything to you.”
I did not believe that for a moment, but didn’t correct him.
“They’re saying that Hector guy is my real dad.”
“Oh, wow,” I said, because it was appropriate to the situation—and also because I was surprised Aunt Suzie had moved things long that quickly. “I guess I see the resemblance.”
Cass just scowled.
“That’s not a bad thing. The guy’s pretty good-looking. Maybe his genes will kick in soon.”
He gave me the side-eye before saying, “He’s Mexican.”
“Yeah, and apparently so are you.”
“My mom’s family’s gonna hate that.”
I decided not to touch that one.
“Does Hector want to be your dad?”
“That’s what he says.”
“How’s your Aunt Suzie taking this?”
“That I’m Mexican?”
“That she’s not really your aunt.” Of course, I knew the answer already, I just wanted to make the point to Cass.
“Oh she says she’ll be my aunt no matter what.”
“Sounds like you’ve got some good people looking out for you.”
He squinted at me in the sunlight before saying, “You were like my dad for a week, weren’t you?”
“You had to blackmail me into it.”
“Well not real—okay, maybe a little.”
When I said good-bye, the little creep actually hugged me. That got me a little choked up, which was stupid. If I thought logically, I never wanted to see this kid again as long as I lived. And I also hoped that he’d be okay and that people would start taking better care of him.
On the way to the airport, I found a big garbage bin in an alley and tossed away all the things I’d acquired—including Joanne’s collection of fraudulent credit cards. I couldn’t guarantee that some homeless person wouldn’t find them while digging through for cans… Well, good for them.
I got to the airport and dropped the Thunderbird off with Hertz. It took nearly an hour to find a flight after checking in at three different airlines. The best I could do was standby with United—and that only went to Dallas. After I didn’t get on the first flight, I went to a newsstand for something to read. It was just a few days ago I’d boughtK Is for Killer. Somewhere along the line I’d lost it. I wasn’t sure where. I’d barely read the first chapter.
Looking at the available books, I struggled. After the week I’d had I wasn’t in the mood for John Grisham or Michael Crichton. I would have liked something light and funny, but there didn’t seem to be much like that. I ended up withMindhunter, a true story about serial killers. Hardly light and funny, but at least different from the things I faced over the last week.
Once on the plane, I was deep into my bag of nuts when I realized I’d be traveling for about double the time it took to fly direct. That was not a great thought. I tried to focus on the book I’d bought, but my mind kept slipping back to the week I’d just spent in Michigan. I was sure I’d made some missteps, probably some big ones. I was hoping, praying even, that once the police had the bright and shiny Luca Amato in their sights they wouldn’t bother too much with the guy who’d been floating around trying not to give people his name.
During the layover, I considered calling Ronnie. But I worried that if he was mad, and he had every right to be, he might say some pretty horrible things to me, things that would be hard to walk back. I figured it would harder to say unforgivable things to my face. And easier to forgive.
