Think of Elio and what he might be going through.
I study each face with renewed determination. When the video reaches the moment I leave the bar to go home, I make a breakthrough. One of the men who’d been crowded around ourtable follows me out the door. And not in a happenstance sort of way. His body almost appears tethered to mine from the second I separate from the table.
Bingo.
It’s a relief to have a lead, but I’m also furious with myself for being so shit-faced that I was oblivious to my surroundings. Had the man followed me all the way home? Why didn’t he take me right then? I wish he had so that it was me in danger and not my brother. This man probably has no idea I have a twin.
“Is this guy familiar at all?” I ask the bouncer, pointing at the paused screen.
He squints. “Nah, man. Can’t really see enough of his face to make him out.” He looks a little closer. “Think I can make out the logo on his ball cap. Not sure if it helps, but I think it says ACME.”
Sure enough, I can read it, too. “Any bit helps.” I take a photo of the screen and thank the guy for his help.
Once I’m back out in the light of day, I call to check in with my dad. He’s finished talking to the loan shark, who said he’d take Cosimo’s reference in lieu of collateral and would let us know the answer after they talked. Dad was about to call his friend to let him know the situation, so I don’t keep him. I can tell him about the man at the bar once I’m home.
A dozen different businesses across the city use the acronym ACME in their names, not to mention the myriad others around the country. Hell, the hat could be Bugs Bunny merch with absolutely no tie to the city whatsoever. It’s hard to say, but I have to keep looking. I can’t sit and do nothing.
I study the photo until my vision blurs. I try to reverse image search the logo, but it’s too blurry for any matches. I also do a reverse number search for the phone number that the kidnapper used but was unable to get any information. By the time Dad getshome, I’ve listed every ACME business in all five boroughs and plotted their locations on a map.
“What did Cosimo say?” I ask quietly. Mom is asleep on the sofa. She was out of it when I got home. I’m pretty sure she’s taken something to knock herself out, and I don’t blame her. I’d do the same if I were in her shoes.
“He’s going to see if there’s any word on the street about serial kidnappings—anything that might get us information on who this bastard might be.”
“And the money?” I’m scared to ask, and my wavering voice shows it.
“He’s got to talk to some people and get back with me.” Dad looks twenty years older than he did yesterday. The bags under his eyes are a dark gray, and the sagging of his lips into a frown gives him the appearance of jowls. Dad isn’t even forty-five yet.
Needing to get away from myself, I bolt to my feet. “I’ll cook some dinner.” Anything to distract me from the self-loathing.
A half-hour later, I have a bolognese sauce simmering when Dad’s phone rings.
Our eyes lock for an elongated second before we both fly into action. He pulls out his phone while I rush to sit beside him.
“Yes?” He rubs his forehead. “No, I don’t have the money yet. I’m having a little trouble coming up with that much … No, please listen … I’m not refusing.”
I can hear the raised voice on the other end of the call, and something inside me breaks. I need to try to fix this. I have to do something, so I grab the phone and start to pace.
“This is DiAngelo. I’m not sure if you know, but you took my twin brother. I’m the one from the bar—I assume you were there, and that’s why you think we have a lot of money. The thing is,” I hurry to explain frantically, “I lied about it all. I clean the boats. I wasn’t a guest. I was putting on a show to look good, but it wasall a lie. Please, don’t hurt my brother. We’ll give you what we can, but we don’t really have that sort of money.”
“You don’t have the money?” The man’s distant voice sounds incredulous. “This won’t be good. He won’t like that. Not at all.”
“That’s not what I said. We just might need a little more time,” I try to explain.
“He won’t believe you,” he says in a harrowing whisper that chills me to the bone.
“I’ll get the money,” I pronounce in no uncertain terms, terror prodding me to lie my ass off. This man’s fear of his boss is palpable, and I can’t imagine what that means for my brother. “Please, just give us the full forty-eight hours. That’s all we’re asking.”
I wait for a response. All I hear is a bell in the distance before the line goes dead.
I sink into a kitchen chair and stare at my hands. Worthless, pathetic, helpless hands. “I’m so sorry.” The words seem so inadequate for how I feel. I’d carve my heart out and lay it at my father’s feet if I could.
He scoots his chair closer and pulls me into his arms, holding me in a merciless hug.
“This isn’t your fault. You can’t know what a crazy person will do.” His voice bleeds into sobs, and I join him. Together, we hold one another and allow our fear to leave our bodies until we are drained and ready to refocus our efforts.
I tell him about the ACME hat and show him my map.
“Before the guy hung up, I heard something in the background. Sounded like a church bell, but I’m not sure what to make of it.”
