Until he slips his arm around my shoulders and holds me tight.
“You can’t give in to despair,” he says.“Nothing’s over yet.”
Yet… yet… yet…
The word reverberates in my mind like the sound of a gong.Or the church bell.The sad kind they ring for funerals.
He leads me from the elevator and towards a sitting area that’s nearly empty.Light green hallways lead from this room in many directions.I have no idea where my sister is.I don’t feel her anywhere and it’s making me shake even harder.
“Sit,” he says and eases me down onto one of the chairs.“I’ll go find out what I can.”
I watch him search for a nurse, find one, have a conversation then come back to me.The picture is all fuzzy, like in a dream, where I know everything that’s going on and yet don’t, like I’m not a part of it at all.
“A doctor will come to us with news when they have it.”
I should be pushing him away, telling him to leave, telling the nurses to call the cops because I’m his prisoner.Instead, I lean against his shoulder and let him wrap his arm around me again.
Because I am his prisoner.And not in the sense that cops can help with.I need him here with me.Because he’s right, I can’t face this alone.I can’t face this withouthim.
Chapter38
MATTEO
Chiara’s beenin surgery for about an hour and Goldie has finally stopped shaking.She’s sipping the hot chocolate I got her from the machine, wrapped in my jacket, some color finally returning to her cheeks.Just a touch, but maybe the worst is over.Unless the worst is yet to come.
As though whatever darkness hangs over me heard me call to it, the elevator door opens, and a couple of police officers trailed by a detective with coffee stains all down the front of his shirt walk out.They zero in on us immediately.
Ferro’s called me a bunch of times, but I’ve chosen to ignore his calls.And his texts warning me to be extra careful, cursing me out for staying behind, but asking how Chiara was doing.I’ve texted back that she’s in surgery and that I’ll report back when I know more.
The detective walks up to us, flanked by the two officers and introduces himself.To Gianna, not me.He also pulls a notepad and pen from the pocket of his washed-out grey jacket.Everything about him screams that he’s seen better days, from his thinning hair to his clothes that by my guess needed replacing about ten years ago.
“I understand the young lady who was shot is your sister, is that right?”
Goldie hiccups and nods and starts shaking again.
“What happened to her?”
Goldie shrugs.“I don’t know.I was called and told she’d been shot and that she was taken to this hospital and I rushed right over.My boyfriend brought me.”
She doesn’t bat an eye as she lies, doesn’t even glance at me or do anything to betray that she’s not telling the absolute truth.
If she told him that she’d been taken prisoner by me, that she’s not with me of her own free will, I’d be in a lot of trouble.Ruined, most likely.Instead, she called me her boyfriend.I’m having the hardest time not smiling widely, since that would be totally inappropriate.
“And who called you to tell you this?”the detective asks and the wish to smile evaporates from my mind.
The elevator door slides open again, and this time two of Ferro’s men—Caputo and Francesco—come out, walking behind a man I’ve never seen before.
“It’s all right, detective Dodd, I’ll take it from here,” the man says.
All three of the cops look in his direction, the expressions on their faces turning from officious to something that looks a lot like subservience.
“Chief?You sure,” Dodd asks.
Chief as in Chief of Police?How much influence does Ferro have?
“Yes, Dodd,” the chief says.“Go.We’ll talk back at the station.”
The look on Dodd’s face suggests he’s never had much of a conversation with the chief and isn’t expecting one now.But he slides his notepad into the front pocket of his coffee-stained shirt, says, “You got it, Chief,” motions for the police officers to follow him and walks to the elevator.
