"She has not finished her lesson. She will call when she is done, Ms. Marino."
"Mancini." It's a small detail, but it's a way to take control of my life again.
Alarm bells are clanging in my ears.
I look at the house next door.
What the hell? These guys aren't letting me out of their sight, so I dodge past them both, down the stairs, and go in through the gate of the other brownstone, up the stairs, and ring the bell of the first floor.
It takes a while, but finally, someone opens it.
It is another fucking man. This one with big, round glasses and floppy, sandy hair.
And those alarm bells are ringing out a three-alarm fire alert.
He frowns. "Where's Lyndall? Her music teacher let me in and said she would be here shortly, but?—"
I push past him, as if pregnancy has suddenly given me asuperpower and I can push men around now. I hurry down the hall, past a staircase, but it's blocked off, and there are paint cans and a ladder, all dusty, sitting there. I turn right into the apartment door that's open and...
No Lyndall.
Just her violin.
My skin crawls.
Did she get taken? I can't see her leave without it.
I turn again, and this time, I push up the staircase, knocking over the paint cans and ladder.
I check the other floors, but they're empty, and there's nowhere to hide.
My fingers are nerveless, and my heart beats too fast as terror ripples through me.
I don't care that Enzo is planning on renovating this, I don't care that the first floor is set up with furniture and is set to be her school room.
All I care about is that Lyndall is gone.
I come down, running into Antonio, and I grip his arms. "You were watching. You must have seen something."
"I did not see the girl. I watched for intruders and anyone taking her. No one did. Two people left. One in a hoodie, and then later the music teacher."
I shake him hard. "And who was the person in the hoodie?"
"The previous tutor. I took over from Con. She was in. That's what I was told and?—"
I stop listening and run, hard.
I'm frantic, vaguely aware the guards follow, and I get back in the house, another guard at the door, waiting, phone in hand.
I snatch it from him and call Enzo.
"I'm busy," he snaps. "So, unless the house is on fire or you're under attack, deal with it."
He doesn't know it's me, and I don't care.
"You better get unbusy," I snap.
"Lola?"
