“Hey,”I greet, stepping into the lab.
College is on winter break, so I spent my free time today on chores like grocery shopping and laundry. Normally, I take on another part-time job over the holidays. However, thanks to the generous pay from the NYPD, I told myself I don’t need to do that this year.
I hope Sophia has something good to distract me, or I will just think about Joshua and his fingers the whole day. I already did it the entire morning,so why not just continue?
I smile down at my phone and read the text he sent me earlier again as I walk over to my desk.
Joshua
Can’t stop thinking about you. I want you back in my bed and arms. You have no idea how much you already mean to me.
“Carolina,” Sophia says, her tone serious like I’ve never heard it before.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask.
“I checked the file for your parents,” she says, putting a damper on the butterflies still fluttering in my belly.
I freeze, my phone nearly slipping out of my hand before I place it on my desk. “You did?”
She nods. “I’m not sure if you’ll like what you see. Are you sure you want to do this?” Her voice is filled with genuine concern.
“I am,” I state, taking a deep breath and bracing myself for whatever she has to share.
Sophia brings the file from her desk and stands in front of me, handing it over. As I open it and scan its contents, my heart aches as I see my parents’ names. There are pictures from the car wreck, and it looks terrible—the front of the car seems to be completely destroyed. They crashed against a building at high speed.
“I took out the more explicit pictures. You don’t have to see that,” Sophia says with sympathy.
I nod, grateful.I don’t think I could have handled seeing those.
I skim over the report, finding the toxicology screening they did. There it is, clear as day. There was a significant amount of heroin found in their blood, and there’s no room for doubt about the results.
“This can’t be right,” I say, reading over that part again and again.
“I’m sorry, Lina,” Sophia says, her voice gentle. “I checked the results multiple times, looked at it from every angle possible. They were under the influence when they crashed.”
“No,” I whisper, looking up at her, tears streaming down my face.
She takes the file from my hands and places it on the desk before pulling me into a comforting hug. “I’m so sorry.”
That night floods back to me clear as day, stopping me in my tracks.
The soft glowof the television illuminates the dim living room.
I finally managed to get Chiara to sleep after what felt like hours of bedtime stories. It’s been ages since I’ve had the television to myself, and tonight, with Mama and Papa out celebrating their wedding anniversary, I can finally indulge in the movie I wanted to watch for so long, but my dad found it silly.
I settle on the couch and pull the blanket over my legs, pressing play.
Just as the opening credits begin to roll, the doorbell rings. I frown, glancing at the clock. It’s past nine.
Who could it be at this hour?
Hesitation grips me, but curiosity wins out. I pause the movie and make my way to the door, opening it just a bit to see who is on the other side.
Two police officers stand there, their uniforms crisp and badges shining. Behind them, a man in a plain suit, presumably a detective, and a woman with kind eyes and a gentle demeanor. The officers look stern, their expressions grave. But the woman offers a small, sad smile when she sees me.
“Ms. Costa?” one of the officers asks, his voice deep and authoritative.
I open the door wider and swallow hard, my voice shaky. “Y-yes, that’s me.”
