"I'm sorry to bring that up again. Was there anyone else?"
Anyone else? I shake my head helplessly. "I'm sorry, sir, I don't remember. The day was so busy, and staff were in and out constantly. I was so focused on service, I…" I trail off and stare at the floor, hoping he's done.
After a long, tense moment, Sandro dismisses me. "Send in DeLuca."
I can't feel entirely relieved. I've survived one interrogation, but surely more will come. All I can do is trust in Raffi and pray the lie holds. I slip out of the door, nodding at Raffi to go in after me.
He comes close to me as he passes, a quick squeeze on my arm, reassurance. But fear rises up as soon as the door closes.
What if he changes his mind about providing me with an alibi? Raffi is always talking about the importance of honor. What if he realizes his honor is more important than my alibi?
Or what if Sandro doesn't believe either one of us?
Raffi has taken a huge risk, made a gesture I never would have expected, not from a man so committed to security. To his Family.
"Hello, Darian," Julian's voice cuts through my thoughts, and I turn to see him leaning against the wall as though having appeared out of nowhere, his arms crossed over his chest. His blank, enigmatic smile always seems to hide a thousand secrets, but today, his eyes hold an unusual light.
"Mr. Castellani," I greet him, my tone guarded. Most days, I feel like I'm the adult between us, despite his lethal reputation. But today, something in his demeanor tells me that he's here to take care of me.
He slings an arm around my shoulders and steers me away. "Come along, little butler boy. Let's have a chat, shall we?"
His casual affection is oddly comforting, although I know it's probably empty. But I'll take what I can get right now.
He hustles me to my own break room, where he shuts the door behind us and leans against it, looking at me speculatively. "I have something to show you. But you must keep it between us."
Curiosity overrides my caution. "What is it?"
"A secret," he stage-whispers, then nods his head toward the cabinet against the wall at the end of the room. "First we need to move this."
The cabinetlooksheavy, but it's on casters that roll easily once Julian kicks off the locking mechanism. We roll it aside. Behind it is a door, unmarked and unadorned.
"This is one of those doors your keywon'topen. Lucky, then—" He takes a key out of his pocket. He unlocks the door and pulls it open to reveal a narrow passageway beyond.
I pull away, hand over my mouth as a ghastly smell hits me. "What'sinthere?" I choke out.
"A hidden passage, one that used to run down to the cells, though they've blockedthatpart off already," he says mournfully. "Renovations, you know. Very soon, this entrance will be closed off for good." He sighs dramatically. "End of an era, I suppose. But useful while it lasted!"
Julian's levity does little to disrupt the chill creeping down my spine. The passage is shrouded in darkness, smells like death, and I can't imagine why anyone wouldwantto go in there.
"Come along," Julian says, glancing over his shoulder as he slips into it. "I'll give you the tour."
I hesitate for a moment. And then I follow him into the shadows.
"Stay close," Julian warns, shutting the door behind us as he switches on his phone flashlight. The walls press in on us as we navigate the narrow passageway.
"Where does it go?" I ask, my voice trembling slightly. It's just occurred to me that I've willingly followed a murderer into a secret passage that—according to him—no one knows about.
If this is a horror movie, I'm going to be dead about thirty seconds from now.
"Patience, Darian," Julian replies, an edge of amusement in his tone. "And stop hyperventilating. We need to be quiet."
What other secrets does Redwood Manor hold? This place, which seemed so familiar, now feels like a maze full of unknown dangers. Julian leads the way confidently, but the light from his phone casts eerie shadows on the walls, making me twitchy.
"Mr. Castellani," I venture hesitantly, "why are we doing this?"
"This passage has been very useful to me in the past. It allowed me to move about unnoticed when necessary. And—ah, here we are—and it allowed me to listen in to Sandro's study."
I stumble to a stop next to him, panic rising in my chest. "We can't eavesdrop on Don Castellani!"
