Page 77 of The Lies We Tell

“It’s unlikely she left your father’s house alive.”

Mouth suddenly dry, Tessa rubbed sweaty palms on her thighs. She should have known better. Should have known her father was doing what he’d always done. Lying to get what he wanted no matter who he had to step on or hurt in the process.

“You really didn’t know.” Carina’s voice was soft but thick with tears, and Tessa frowned, shaking her head.

“No. I might not have told the whole truth, but I never lied. I was here because I thought my mother was alive and I wanted to find her. By any means necessary. I just didn’t know I’d fall in love with Matteo when I agreed to come here,” she added, swiping at a tear that slipped down her cheek.

“If you could make it right, would you?”

“In a heartbeat.” She pressed her fingertips to her eyelids. “But how am I supposed to do that when he won’t even talk to me? And even if he did talk to me, he wouldn’t believe me.”

Carina didn’t say anything else, didn’t bother offering false words of hope that Matteo might come around. A kindness Tessa appreciated. She couldn’t stomach any more hope.

“Is my father dead yet?” Tessa asked, stopping Carina at the door.

Carina hesitated, then shook her head. “Not yet. We’re having some trouble pinning him down.”

“You can’t find him? Let me talk to Matteo. I can—”

“Don’t worry about it, Tessa. We’re handling it.”

“But I know where he’s going to be.”

Carina paused in her reach for the knob, her mouth thinning into a hard line. “How?”

“When I talked to the woman who wasn’t my mother, I set up a meeting with him. A lure. I was going to tell Matteo about it all before.” She sighed. “Before everything happened.”

The way Carina studied her made Tessa feel like a specimen under a microscope. But she supposed she deserved this level of suspicion. She had it coming.

“Where are you supposed to meet with him? And when?”

“At the grocery store where we first met. On Via Roma. Today. At two.”

Carina’s eyes flicked to the clock on the nightstand, and she nodded.“All right.” Twisting the knob, she paused in the doorway. “I’ll try to convince Matteo to come talk to you. At least hear your side of it.”

“Carina. You have to tell him,” Tessa replied, urgency in her voice.

The door closed and the lock reengaged, and Tessa dropped her head into her hands with a sigh. Maybe Carina could get Matteo to come around; maybe she couldn’t. Tessa had little faith that she’d ever speak to Matteo again. At least not more than a few harsh words when her father was finally dead, and he kicked her out to fend for herself. Or worse, did exactly what his father would have done and killed her for the betrayal.

But more importantly than that, if they couldn’t find her father on their own, then intercepting him today was their best option for a fast end to all of this. If only Carina had seemed the slightest bit interested in the information about the meeting.

She’d breezed out, her face giving nothing away. Maybe Carina saw it as just another lie, or worse, a trap being laid. And if they weren’t going to do anything about it, what did that mean? Was Salvatore going to get away?

Tessa eyed the knife on the tray. She couldn’t let that happen. If she could get out of this room and meet her father, she could just as easily be the one to end him once and for all as anyone else. She’d killed before. She could do it again.

And her father wouldn’t expect her to be the one to attack him. He was only expecting information. She’d make sure he got something else entirely.

Because Tessa wanted her father to pay, and if no one would listen to her, then this was the only way to do it.

Stalking across the room, she grabbed the knife from the tray and carried it to the door. She’d read about this in a book once. She hoped it was art imitating life and not the other way around.

Wrapping her fingers around the knob, she twisted it as much as the lock would allow and wedged the knife in the gap between the frame and the door. Sliding it through, she felt something give, heard the scrape of metal as she pushed back the latch, but the door still wouldn’t open.

Pulling the knife free, she took a deep breath and tried again. Angling the blade higher so she came down from the top instead of straight on, she again felt something give way and pressed back on the heavy spring latch.

When the door swung in, she swallowed a triumphant shout, mouth rounding into a silent O of surprise while she jumped up and down. Tossing the knife on the bed, she reached for the door and stopped herself. If anyone came to her room before she came back, she’d seal her fate where Matteo was concerned.

Pushing the door to but not latching it, she dug a pen and an old receipt out of her purse and scribbled a quick note along with the name and address of the store. She hoped it was enough to explain what she was doing and why. And that Matteo would believe her when she got back.

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