Until now.
Because the thought of Aurora dying tonight makes me feel like the ground is no longer stable beneath my feet.Like the ground is no longer there at all, and I’m somewhere between floating and free-falling, anchorless,powerless.
Would Messina really have been stupid enough to drug both our cups?He needs Aurora alive.He must have had naloxone on him when he came for her.Maybe he imagined he could carry her, limp and near-lifeless from the train.Then, he’d revive her somewhere else.Somewhere we couldn’t find her.
As if there is anywhere in this city, in this country, in this fucking world that I could not find her.
“Sit down,” Morelli says in Italian, dragging me from my thoughts.“If you fall and hit your head on this expensive fucking marble, then you’re going to be much worse-off than you are right now.”
I don’t want to sit down.I’m agitated, heart throbbing, fingers tingling.I want to pace the room.I want to rocket right back out that front door.Find Messina.Cut him, break him.
But Aurora is here, Aurora is with me, and I cannot leave her side.I won’t be seeking Messina tonight.
I won’t be seeking him at all until our thirty days are up.
“Sit down,” she says, a quiet repetition of Morelli’s command.Only I remember then that she doesn’t even speak Italian, and wouldn’t have understood what he said.I must really look like shit, I guess.When I move towards one of the large sofas, she hurries ahead of me.She reaches as if to remove the protective plastic sheet that covers the piece of furniture – the same material that’s been tossed over most of the rest of the furniture in the house – but I tell her to leave it on.I’m sweating like crazy, and if I’m going to puke my guts out again, she may as well protect the goddamn upholstery.
I’m barely aware of actually sitting down.All I know is that my knees buckle, and suddenly I’m there on the sofa.It’s as if some giant has put the palm of their hand on the top of my head and pushed me straight down, folding my spine for me.Morelli gets to work yanking off my jacket, poking me and prodding, testing things like my heartrate and blood pressure.He leaves for a few moments, then returns with a clear bag, tubes, and a rolling stand.
“IV fluids,” he tells me.“And I can administer more naloxone intravenously if I have to.”
I don’t think that will be necessary.I feel different than I did before, different than I did on the train and at Serpico’s place.In some ways, I feel worse, and for the first time in my life I truly understand the phrase “strung out.”It’s like my muscles, my lungs, my intestines have all been stretched and twisted beyond repair, hung up on a line of string and flapping uselessly in the breeze, like somebody’s fucking laundry.
But I’ll take this feeling over that collapsing numbness from before.I’m all fucked up, but I’m alive and I’m alert.I don’t think I’m going to slip back under.
Even so, I let Morelli do what he does best.I’m not taking any chances.Not while she’s standing there in front of me, not when I almost lost her tonight.I offer my arm without prompting, barely feeling the sting of Morelli’s needle.Aurora’s slender jaw clenches, and she looks away, wandering aimlessly until she comes to a lamp that she turns on.For a sliding second, I’m not in Toronto, but back in Montreal, back in my house where she’s left every lamp on in each of the rooms she has entered, a trail of light to show me where she’s been.
I’m distracted from her by Morelli clamping something onto the end of my right index finger.
“Blood oxygen monitor,” he says, and I give a grunt of acknowledgement.At that moment, Leo returns – sans fancy barf bowl – as do Elio and Robbie.
“I believe he’s out of danger,” Morelli says in Italian, “but I’m going to monitor him for the next few hours to be sure.”
“You’ll monitor himall nightto be sure,” Elio corrects him.
Morelli just shrugs, then nods.
“We’ll debrief in the morning,” Elio says to me this time.“Robbie and Leo will stay here as protection.I’m going to check on Deirdre, then I’ll be getting to work.”
“Work?”This word comes from Aurora, bringing all eyes her way.She’s standing somewhat hunched, with her arms crossed over her body, like she’s cold.Is it cold in here?I can’t really tell, but it must be.With no one living here, the furnace hasn’t been on, and she doesn’t have her jacket.The switch for the gas fireplace is right beside her, but either she hasn’t seen it, or she ignores it, staring at my brother.
“Work,” Elio confirms with a clipped nod.“We’ve got men to find tonight.”
Chapter8
Aurora
By the time Elio sweeps out of the house and Robbie locks the doors from the inside, I think Curse has fallen asleep.But then he speaks, a croak that somehow still manages to be commanding, making my shredded nerves leap beneath my skin.
“Turn the fire on, Leo,” he says.His eyes aren’t closed, like I’d thought they were a second ago.They’re cracked open, dark slits intent upon me.“Then bring me my bag.That one without the wheels.”
Leo hustles to obey, his fingers finding a switch on the wall near my left shoulder that I hadn’t seen before.A quiet whoosh, then crackling, emanates from behind me.
“I can grab your bag,” I say feebly, feeling like I need to do something, offer something to him.But Leo is already on it, Curse’s bag dangling from his hands.He puts it down beside Curse on the couch, then stands back while Curse unzips it and starts digging around.I wonder what he’s looking for.A gun?Both Robbie and Leo have got weapons on them.Even now Robbie is standing by the front door, hand on his hip.
But when his hand emerges, it’s not holding a pistol.He’s got something much more darkly familiar.He shakes the handcuffs so that they give a metallic clink and catch the soft lamplight.Then, with his other hand, he shoves his bag off of the couch and waits.
He doesn’t say a word, but the message is clear.
