“As you can see over here behind me, the rescue teams have been called back,” Artina begins. “We have it on reliable authority that it’s Declan Crossbow who is under the rubble.”
“Declan Crossbow! Did you hear that, James?” the woman in the bakery asks the man.
“Yes, Dolores, I heard. You were shouting.”
She huffs. “Those poor boys. We can’t leave them alone, can we? It’s not enough that their mother tried to drown them in the river.” She tsks. “I remember their weak cries when the babies arrived in the ICU. We heated blankets for them. And I’ll never forget how those two held hands and wouldn’t separate, so we bundled them together and put them inside the incubator to keep them warm.”
I clear my throat. “You’re a nurse?”
“For over forty years. Retired now and have my bakery.”
“I didn’t know she tried to drown them.” I pay for my sandwich. There’s pounding in my ears. Rage might just overwhelm me. I’d hate to think what I could do if I lost control over my temper.
“Don’t go telling anybody that she did that.” The woman sips her coffee. “I’ll deny it if anyone asks.”
“I won’t. Don’t worry.” I sit in the back and keep my hat over my eyes even though I should take my hat off while I eat. Donatella Macarley taught me manners. “Do you think Massio knew she tried to drown their boys?” I ask, and immediately mentally slap myself. Why am I doing this to myself? It’s over. My parents are dead. Good riddance. Forget about them.
“Oh yeah,” the nurse says, “An hour after the boys were rescued, Massio and Anabela rushed into the ICU, high as kites. We released the boys back to them.” She shakes her head. “Yes, we did.”
“Incompetent parents in a city of incompetent idiots. What could possibly go wrong?” I bite into the sandwich, if only to keep my mouth from speaking.
The lady turns in her chair and looks at me for the first time. “Son, nobody dared say anything to Massio and Anabela. They were made for each other. Both beautiful people with violent, disturbing tendencies. I only feel bad for the boys. If I were them, I would never have returned to this city. And now look, one of them is dead.”
“He’s not dead.” I bite out, and the woman’s eyes widen.
I need to keep my cool. Sit at this nice table near the exit, eat the sandwich, smell the flower. I lean in and smell the flower. Cute. I’m grounded now. NOT.
“Do you want something to drink?” the man asks.
“I’m fine.”
The woman turns back to watch the news. They do so with commentary, but now that she’s not poking the wounds I can never heal, I sit back and eat the sandwich, which settles comfortably in my belly. Too comfortably. My control is slipping.
The dogs climb over the bricks and debris, and they’re fast about it. They’ve already found someone. You can tell by how they’re barking, eager to get to the human. Lots of people like cats, but I’m a dog person. Those motherfuckers are loyal. You don’t see a cat jumping into a fire or taking a bullet for anybody.
“Looks like the dogs found someone over there,” Artina says as she’s running toward the wreckage to get a better look. A police officer, Martin, of all people, stops her from going past the yellow tape.
Artina turns toward the camera, and Martin steps out of view.
“You can see the crew behind me working to rescue someone,” Artina says. “Again, we have it on good authority thatit is Declan Crossbow, one of the Crossbow twins, who is trapped under all the rubble. We have no idea if he’s alive, so stay with us.”
I finish my sandwich. I didn’t need to walk into the bakery of the nurse who knew Connor and me back when we were babies. My dad kept us around if only to make my mother look at us every day. I wonder how many times she’s tried to hurt us. How did Con and I survive?
Maybe angels did watch over us.
Nah. Con and I stuck together. That’s how we survived.
Well, I’m sticking with you now, brother.
The TV screen is split in two now, with one view showing the blockades forming in the city. Stopped cars congest the streets, making people nervous and angry. The news of Declan Crossbow possibly being dead under there is stirring up the same mayhem on the street that got stirred up when my dad was shot. Maybe this will be worse, since people seem to be invested in us, the Crossbow twins.
I want to remain at the bakery longer, but the digging will take some time. And time is a most precious luxury we don’t control. We have to make the best of it, take advantage of whatever time we have. It’s a luxury.
Now, with all eyes glued to the TV and some in the crowd moving toward the site to get a glimpse of the Crossbow twin as they pull him out, the cops aren’t paying attention to what they should be.
Like, for example, the evidence locker at the station.
Chapter 35
