Despite his best attempts at loitering, there was no opportunity to look around. Silvestri stuck close, preparing coffee, tracking his comings and goings.
—
When the Ape was nearly empty, Valerio stopped at the kitchen, where Silvestri sat at the table with his espresso, talking on the phone.
“Toilet?” Valerio asked. Silvestri gestured him away.
This was it. His single opportunity to find what he needed. He strolled out of sight, then moved rapidly, silently. He darted to the stairs, taking them up two at a time, then strode along the hallway, opening and closing doors. He wanted to find an office—someplace Silvestri might keep documents.
His heart was pounding so hard, he could see the movement through the canvas coveralls. His hands were slick with sweat, the back of his neck hot and electric. He was running out of time.
—
At the end of the hall, he opened the door to an enormous bedroom with plush white and gold furnishings—and stopped short at the sight of a teenage girl sitting on the edge of the large bed.
She wore an adult-size T-shirt. It bagged, brushing her bare thighs. Long hair hung down her back, tangled and matted from sleep. Bony-kneed, full-cheeked, flat-chested, she was younger than Gemma. He didn’t think she could be older than thirteen-year-old Davide.
The room was clearly Silvestri’s: his clothes draped on the furniture and crumpled on the floor.
A sick and violent anger gripped Valerio. The fucker was abusing a kid here. Now.
He had nothing. No gun, no protection, no authority. He was operating far outside the law.
Reason told him to leave, to find the evidence incriminating Luca, to call for backup—live to fight another day.
Well, fuck reason.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently.
She stared at him, expression flat, unsurprised to find a strange man standing in the room.
“My name is Valerio,” he said. “I’m a policeman. I’m here to help. Do you want to leave?”
Her body tensed. Her hands clenched into fists. She nodded and stood.
Valerio didn’t want to frighten her by approaching. He gestured her forward.
“Come. I’ll get you out of here.”
She came slowly towards him.
“We need to hurry,” he urged, reaching out.
With his other hand, he felt in his pocket for his phone, and dialed Maurizio. He was far outside any operational rules—but he’d worry about that later. What he needed now was to get this kid someplace safe. Idiot that he was, he’d decided to leave his personal weapon behind. He regretted this now. He needed backup.
The line was ringing, phone pressed to his ear, as he felt the girl’s warm hand grip his. He gazed into eyes that were wide with terror.
“I got you,” he said, and tugged her from the room.
He’d planned to hustle her down the hallway and stairs, to get them both into the Ape and out into the street before Silvestri noticed. But he was too late.
Silvestri was in the hallway, blocking their egress, the muscular dog at his side. The girl gasped, hand tightening in his.
“I knew it!” Silvestri shrieked. “Ines warned me about you! I knew it!”
He was carrying a gun—silver, and too large. He handled it awkwardly, like an accessory instead of a weapon. Valerio hoped he was right in guessing that Silvestri had no fucking clue what he was doing—or this would never work.
Pushing the girl behind him, Valerio released her hand. Then, in three rapid steps, he shoved the weapon aside and plowed his right fist into Silvestri. The smaller man gave no resistance, his body moving with the punch and slamming to the floor. The gun skittered away on the tile. That might have been it. That should have been it. But the dog, defending his master, jumped on Valerio, who raised his arm to protect his face and neck. The pressure and pain of the dog’s teeth clamped onto his right forearm. Valerio roared.
