Carrera wanted to scream at the detective, but the man was doing his job. Mara’s case was one of many, and Carrera didn’t get special treatment because he worked for the Bureau.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Santini,” the detective said. “If anything changes, I’ll let you know.”
Now Carrera knew the vicious truth. His sister had been sexually assaulted and murdered. Then, the son of a bitch had breezed out the kitchen door, down the steps, and into the night.
Like the devil himself.
Shrouded in a veil of hate, Carrera Santini was done bringing the wicked to justice.
So. Fucking. Done.
Rather than call a rideshare, he started walking. Anything to burn off his anger. As his feet ate up the pavement, he made a decision.
He unearthed his phone and speed dialed the familiar number.
“Carrera, hold on,” said his older cousin, Luciano Santini. A few seconds later, Luciano returned. “Are you back?”
“Yeah.”
“How’d it go?”
“This one’ll probably get off on a technicality or some fucking loophole.”
“I heard about Richard Allen Glazer,” Luciano said.
“How?”
“I make it my business to know when a monster walks free,” Luciano replied.
“Mara was raped.” Carrera let the words hang in a heavy silence.
“Jesus, no,” Luciano whispered. “We’ll find him. You have my word.”
“I’m done playing by the rules,” Carrera said, the fury slicing through him.
His cousin grew silent for several seconds. “That’s your emotions talking. Go home, sleep it off.”
“No,” Carrera ground out. “This is youroneopportunity to get your claws in me.”
“I’ve waited a long time to hear you say that,” Luciano said. “Are you leaving the Bureau?”
“Hell, no.” Carrera replied.
“Are you sure you want to work with me?”
“One-hundred-percent.”
“Welcome to therealfamily,” Luciano Santini said with a smile.
