So in the meantime…I guess I’m stuck here, whether I like it or not.
The problem is, I think Idolike it. At least now that the threat of going back into the cells has been removed. And—worst of all?
I’m still attracted to Alessandro.
He’s scary, for sure.
Butdamn, is he hot.
A knock at the door makes me jump, and whoever it is actually waits to unlock and open the door until I uncertainly say, “Come in?”
I’m expecting Wilson, but it’s one of the guards from the security room—Pedretti, I heard Alessandro calling him. “Hey,” he says. “Boss said you wanted this?” He holds up a USB.
The security footage! Alessandrodidlisten to me.
“Thank you!” I run over so fast that he takes a step backward. “Thank you, Mr. Pedretti.”
“Pedretti is fine,” he says, dropping the small USB into my hand, and he even grins at me. He’s older than Alessandro, in his forties maybe, his dark hair starting to salt-and-pepper and the brown eyes are warm but curious as he takes in the room. “Need anything else, little guy?”
“Not right now, thank you.”
“Hope you find something on there,” he says sincerely, and then he leaves.
I listen after the door closes, just in case—but Pedretti doesn’t forget to lock it.
* * *
The footage is split into four squares, the cameras changing now and then to cover the entire grounds of the property. I’m familiar with the system, because it’s one that my father’s company makes. The picture is excellent, but there’s no sound—something that this modeldoesoffer, but must have been set up not to record, which makes sense when I think about it. Keeping private conversations private would be pretty important for the Family.
I swear to myself that I’m going to watch the footage really carefully, but it’s so boring that I can’t help fast-forwarding after a while.
And that’s how I spot it.
The trees—the redwoods, in fact, that give this place its name—suddenly start moving the opposite way. In fast-forward, it’s jarring enough to catch my attention, and I go back and watch it again in real time.
I was right—the video gives a sudden jump, and the branches of the tall redwoods go from waving right to waving left. And when I watch the other three squares very carefully, I can see minute changes in them, too.
Someone has tampered with the tape.
But my excitement wears off pretty fast, since I have no one to share my discovery with. There’s nothing else to do, and I have no interest in TV now that I’ve figured out the camera thing, but when I investigate the books on the shelf in the sitting area, I find a few histories of the Mafia, so I take one to read. It’s actually really fascinating, so much that after lunch I move from the sofa to the bed, where I can curl up more comfortably on the mountain of pillows, and dive into 1920s Chicago. I’ve been working on a new section forCute Crimsthat I’m calling the Family Tree, showing all the connections and offshoots and Family ties. It’s complicated, especially the Italian roots, because a lot of the webpages I’ve been using for research are in Italian, and mine isn’t great. Translation services aren’t always clear, either.
Maybe I’ll hit a library some time, see what books have to offer.
IfI get out of here.
That thought has just touched my mind, when I hear the key turn in the lock. I freeze where I am, just like the mouse Alessandro keeps saying I am. There was no knock, not like when I called down to the staff, just to see what would happen if I asked for lunch to be sent up.
The butler guy brought it to me on a tray. He left the door wide open as he set it down in the sitting area of the bedroom, but I knew as well as he did that there was no point making a run for it.
But there’s no knock this time, just the snick of the key turning in the lock, loud in the silence of the room. My heart rate picks up hopefully.
Alessandro Castellani comes through the door, shutting it behind him and leaning up against it. “The lover was a dead end,” he says.
I sit up, crossing my legs on the bed. “You talked to her?”
“I did.”
“Guess what I found out?” Alessandro says nothing, so I go on after an awkward pause. “Someonedidtamper with the camera footage.” He lifts his eyebrows at that, and I show him what I found. “So that means it must have been someone from outside,” I say after he’s watched it a few times, still silent. “Someone who wanted to cover their tracks. Julianisinnocent.”
