Except, I have no idea what his true plans are. For some reason, he’s keeping me in the dark.
Dark or not, my loyalty remains with my family. I’ll do what I need to do.
Today, that’s lurking nearby the Dresvanni’s estate in the outer city neighborhood of Tessi Oscuri. Where lavish mansions appear as though they’ve risen up from the roman ruins, covered in creeping vines and fragrant flowers far too delicate for the war that often happens here.
I park my dark SUV a half mile from the estate, not wishing to draw too much attention to myself. Bodyguards have been ordered away, as I don’t need them lurking and causing even more problems for me. Still, I know they are watching me from a distance, they always are. If not them, someone else. There’s always someone watching.
The wind is cold and the sky is an angry shade of grey. Heavy clouds linger overhead, warning me that rain will be falling today. I adjust my leather jacket on my shoulders and pull acigarette out of my jeans, lighting it up as I turn toward the coast.
Small but violent waves crash against the sandy shore. The breeze over the Tyrrhenian Sea smells of salt and citrus…until the very last second that I breathe it in. Then the overpowering musty scent of algae fills my nose. I don’t turn away from it. Instead, I take a drag of my cigarette and watch the water bob over the horizon. The sun is no where to be seen, but it’s there somewhere, as there’s still several hours until night time.
With an exhale, I turn and start walking toward the Dresvanni estate, not from the front, but from the side. It would be a foolish move to simply walk up the driveway and expect a warm welcome.
The path I’m taking requires me to ease my way through a line of pines and cypresses. I’m careful with my cigarette as I walk, never letting it touch a single leaf or a pine needle, and I only toss it down and stomp on it once I’m free of the foliage. Only the slightly damp grass beneath my feet.
I spot several guards near the back gate of the garden. They’re talking to each other, and the ground beneath their feet isn’t worn or dug out in any way. This tells me that security isn’t usually posted at the back of the garden.
I wonder if that’s how the hitman got in. Assuming it was a hired gun. I can’t imagine someone else risking their life to take him out.
“Carmine is home. He wouldn’t leave so soon after what happened,” I mumble to myself. “Paperwork to do, big shoes to fill.”
While the guards are talking, I make my way around the perimeter of the estate to the back. There’s no entrance to the garden from the back, so there are no guards there. I pull out my phone and open up an app, typing into it for ten or fifteen seconds until finally a list generates on my screen line by line.
The status and location of each camera in and surrounding the Dresvanni’s estate is now in my hands. There are three cameras outside. One at the front door, one at the back door leading into the garden from the house, and a third camera facing in the direction of the garden from the side, hidden in the trees. I’ve managed to avoid all three cameras for the time being, and the only one I need to worry about is the third camera.
I edge my way closer to the estate, memorizing the lines where each camera’s field of view starts and stops, plus a couple inches of give.
Slinking past the guards on the other side is easy. The cawing of birds and rushing of wind hides the already faint sound of my footsteps.
The list of security cameras also tells me where any motion sensors and motion activated lights are. The majority of them are focused on the front of the house, and windows themselves. The tall wrought iron fence around the garden is free of any sensors or traps. At least, technological ones.
I pull myself up onto the fence and toss myself over it as quickly as possible. Slow makes more noise than fast; the quicker the better when it comes to that.
When I hit the ground, I notice a foot deep mote of water just behind where the fence comes up from the ground, six inches wide. I’ve landed several inches in front of it, but if I’d climbed down rather than jumped, I’d probably have landed in it, tripped, filled my boots with water, and drawn attention to myself.
I smirk and turn around to take in my surroundings again.
Away from the camera, I go left. I move fast and ignore the natural fear that builds up in my chest about being heard. Any noise I make can’t be helped, and therefore there’s no point focusing on it. Just keep moving.
Finally, my back is against the house, a tall window above my head.
I look at my phone and the cameras again. Now that I’m closer, I can connect to the online cameras inside.
Living room or family room. Volume is off, but there’s several people in the room. I recognize them as two of Dresvanni brothers. Neither of them are Carmine. There’s a tree on the floor. A Christmas tree, I realize.
Ornaments are shattered all over. But there’s not much blood at all. There’s no sign that this is the room the murder happened in, so what did happen?
I change cameras. Kitchen.
I’m about to pass it, until I see a shirtless figure step in. His dark, ruddy colored hair is disheveled, and he looks like he hasn’t slept a wink.
Carmine.
He turns around toward the fridge, and my eyes drop down my phone. Down the line of his lean but muscular back, to the waistband of his pants.
More movement forces my eyes back up. He’s pouring seltzer water into a glass then adding alcohol.
I should move on; I should check the other cameras in the house before coming back to this one, but I find myself stuck on him. He takes up hardly an inch or two on my screen. The dark cabinets and shining stove top around him taking up more of the view.
