“It’ll be fine,” he lied.
Federico had said that if he turned himself in and told his colleagues what he knew, he would be buried alongside the truth. But he didn’t know what else to do.
The sight of his sister’s desperate face made him ache. It had been a mistake to come.
“Do you know what’s actually noble?” she said. “Showing up foryour family…doing dishes and laundry…shopping. Sleeping at your mamma’s house so you can wake her up when nightmares make her scream.”
Orlanda’s features contorted. He saw the wrestle of love and pain. He pulled her in, and hugged her, even as she stood rigid against his affection.
“Take care of Mamma,” he said.
She followed him to the door, standing on the threshold as he crossed into the fading light.
“Don’t you dare die. Don’t you fucking die.”
—
Valerio was already out of the neighborhood when his phone pinged.
A message from Federico:I have an idea.
Twenty-Four
Nikki sat in the waiting room of the Pozzuoli women’s prison while Sonia argued with Advocate Ferragni, their voices raised in the next room, muffled by thick concrete walls. It was 21:43, and both Ferragni and the prison staff were clearly unhappy about the late hour of this interview request.
Nikki shuffled her cards and was laying them out before her, matching the information she’d captured against what she knew, when Emilio strode in.
“There she is!” he announced. A smile crinkled his eyes. “Our resident troublemaker.”
“Sorry to disrupt your evening,” Nikki said.
His grin broadened, and he scratched the stubble on his neck. “I was losing my multiplayer game. This gave me an excuse to bail early.”
—
It was the first time Nikki had seen Monica and Kami interviewed together. She thought of their Instagram photos, posing in front of the Eiffel Tower, flirtatious in heels and satin. The contrast was jarring. Here, in the dreary room with its ugly furniture, chipped paint, and stale stink, both women wore sweatpants and sweaters. Monica was sallow, acne spreading across her cheeks, greasy hair pulled into a stringy bun. Kami’s face was puffy, eyelids heavy.
“I have to say,” began Sonia, “I’ve had trouble understanding how two bright young women with such promising futures landed here…with murder and drug trafficking charges. You haven’t made things easy for yourselves. You’ve repeatedly lied. And you’ve obstructed our investigation.”
Kami returned Sonia’s gaze, but Monica stared at her hands, picking at her nails.
“I’ve received new information this evening,” continued Sonia. “It changes how I view this case.”
She pulled out a file, and opened it flat on the table.
“Monica,” she said. “Last year you interned at Stonehaven Wealth Management in London. There, you met a broker named Kevin Walker, whom you started dating. We know this from press articles. And your parents confirmed the relationship.”
Monica pressed her lips together.
“Walker cofounded a company called Innovare MindCapsule with Theodore Sexton, brother of Claire Sexton,” Sonia said. She flipped a page. “Their business was failing. They had loans they couldn’t repay. No investors. They were desperate. Theodore recruited his sister, Claire, to nanny for Jayston and Fiona Lake. Lake owns an investment firm. We think Theodore wanted Claire to persuade Lake to invest in their company.”
She stared pointedly at Monica. “It’s clear you coordinated your arrival in Naples. Claire disembarked fromThe Propheton Saturday, the nineteenth. Then, you and Kami arrived and rented an apartment on Via Montecalvario. We know Claire was with you that evening. Possibly, she stayed with you. We know cocaine was involved.”
Monica began chewing her thumbnail.
Sonia continued. “We’ve checked the flights into Naples. Kevin Walker arrived from London on Tuesday. That night, Claire was murdered in Chiesa del Gesù Nuovo. The following day, Walker flew back to London. Here is what I need you to tell me: What agreement did you have with Signor Walker?”
Monica and Kami exchanged glances.
