“You should smile more,” I inform him. “Maybe then you could find someone to fall in love with.”
“You’re barking up the wrong tree,” he says. “I’m too old for that nonsense.”
“My father wasn’t,” I say.
“I ain’t your father,” he retorts, shutting me down.
It’s true that Uncle Gio isn’t my father, but he’s been like a father-figure to me. When Francisco was too busy to play ball with me or take me to the movies, Gio often did. So, I have a certain amount of affection for him, regardless of his habitually stern expression.
CHAPTER 16
SOFIA
Istare at the computer screen, wishing I could magically make the three sentences I’ve written fill out an entire article. There are major plot holes in my story, ones that I can’t fix at the moment.
I’m in the office, sitting across from another half dozen reporters who are working on their own projects. All of them are much more seasoned than I am. They’re working on the bread and butter stories, the ones that keep readers coming back to our paper. I’m working on something much closer to my heart, but I hope it will be equally enlightening when I can finally publish it.
Nobody’s paying any attention to me, which is good. I nibble on my thumb, trying to think of any more details I can add. Frankie told me that his stepmother is pregnant. Maybe there’s an angle there.
I consider everything I learned from our last date and come up short. Even though I’m now positive that Frankie is not directly involved with his father’s organization, I can’t prove that either. There is no direct evidence linking the Corellos to my brother, and the stakeout of Central Bites isn’t going anywhere.
I leave the Word document I’m working on and switch over to my email. Mario has sent me a whole file full of images that he collected. I’ve been through them already, but I decide that one more time won’t hurt. I’m looking for anyone I recognize from my research. There are a few people with criminal records. I know because I’ve done a thorough search of the headlines every time, I’m able to put a name to a face. I found one guy on the city police department’s drug sting website, and another guy’s name came up in a tax evasion scheme.
But it’s a big leap from two unrelated crimes to a criminal conspiracy. So I have to keep digging. There are still a lot of people who went into and out of the restaurant that I don’t recognize. Maybe one of them is the key to my story.
“Sofia?” Mr. Harlan pokes his head out of his office. He spies me at my desk and waves me over.
I grab my notebook and head into his office.
“Give me an update on your story,” he demands.
I sit down, paging through some of my notes. There’s precious little to report, even though I’ve dutifully written down everything Frankie told me. I also have notes from the research I’ve been doing at the library, but that doesn’t amount to much.
“What about the restaurant you were staking out?” Mr. Harlan asks.
“I’m going through some of the photos that Mario took,” I respond.
“Did you find anything yet?” Harlan wonders.
“I identified two individuals with criminal histories,” I confirm.
“That’s good,” he says. “So, what now?”
“Unfortunately, those two individuals aren’t related, as far as I can tell,” I admit.
“But they were both at the restaurant?” Harlan asks.
“That’s right,” I explain. “But I’ll need some more time to do more research.”
“What about the family connections?” Mr. Harlan continues. He knows I’ve been researching the Corello family and the other potential crime families in the area.
“I’ve developed something like a family tree,” I say, flipping to the right page. “It’s nothing official, but I’m mapping out some relationships in the Corello household.”
“And?” he prompts.
“And I’m spending a good deal of time with one of the family members,” I say.
Harlan looks impressed.
