Page 8 of Out of Sight

Angelo nodded, looking at me like he was waiting for something.

“Thank you,” I said, trying to fit gratitude into my jumbled emotions.

He nodded, staring at me for another couple seconds before turning his attention to the door, cocking his head to the side.

“Did you hear something?” Carlo asked, his smile fading.

“Maybe,” Angelo replied as his eyes narrowed. He opened the door and stalked out, Carlo and I following close behind.

The main office was empty, the receptionist from before nowhere to be seen.

“Claire, my dear?” Carlo called out, turning his head toward the supply closet, then the restroom.

I saw a bright red light on the printer behind the desk, relieved there was an answer. Angelo looked like he was about to go mental.

“Printer’s on the fritz. She’s probably getting more ink or something,” I said, rounding the desk and leaning down to read the display. “It says ‘Paper Jam.’ Let me have a look… Yup. Right there.”

I found the button to release the tray, opening it up to see a paper crinkled up along the roller. I pulled it out and saw it was actually just half a sheet, the other half torn off already.

“It looks like a list of some sort? Hey these are all businesses you work with.”

Carlo decisively came around the desk, snatching the half-sheet from my hands, reading the words carefully, outrage flaring in his eyes. He passed the list over the desk to Angelo, who scanned the list quietly before he crumpled it up in his hands.

“CLARA!” he shouted, turning toward the supply closet and ripping the door open.

It was empty, thank god. I took a step to follow him, but Carlo held a hand up to stop me. “Let him rage on his own, Willie-Boy.”

“Clara, get your ass back out here!” he roared, stomping to the restroom and throwing that door open to reveal it was also empty. “Where the hell did that bitch go?” he demanded, returning to the front desk.

“I don’t know. But Willie-Boy will find her and drag her back.”

I schooled my expression, trying to look indifferent. “For printing out a list of people who owe you money?”

“For accessing files that she was intentionally locked out of, files she shouldn’t even know exist. For being a nosy little cunt,” Angelo spat out, the rage making him shake.

“Who knows what else she saw? What she knows? Where she’s going with it all?” Carlo lamented, Mr. Over Dramatic coming out in full force.

“Willie-Boy will stop her before she gets to the police,” Angelo said, his voice calmer, his eyes still a storm of brutal fury. “You wanted to know about your next job? You find that ratbitch that was answering my phone and bring her back here so I can watch her beg on hands and knees for mercy.”

An image of a young woman crying on the ground flashed in front of my eyes, bringing with it a wave of nausea. I couldn’t let that happen. Not again.

Carlo clapped a hand on my shoulder, ever the picture of comradery and friendliness, his voice almost cheerful as he continued his brother’s thoughts.

“And then you’ll pull the trigger on her anyway.”

I drove over to the address Carlo gave me as I procrastinated doing what I knew I had to do. I knocked on her apartment door, but no one answered. Not surprising, really.

Even if she was stupid enough to hack into the mafia’s private files, she didn’t look stupid enough to run to the address they had on file right after. She was probably exactly where I should have gone right after Mario Costa died.

It killed me to admit it, but I needed to go to the police.

I never wanted to risk going back to prison again, but more than just my freedom was on the line. I needed to own up to everything I’d done wrong for Mr. Morelli if I wanted to escape with my life, and that woman—Carlo had called her “Claire” but Angelo said “Clara”— with hers. It would suck if I was incarcerated again, but at least everything and everyone would be taken care of, would be safe.

I would tell the cops everything. I would confess to all the stuff I’ve done wrong since I started working for the Morellis,everything possible so they’d know I wasn’t blowing smoke out of my ass when I told them they needed to find this woman fast—for her own safety.

I hesitated when I arrived at the station. I’d been to prison before. Going inside the precinct and telling someone I was an accomplice to a murder last night would more than likely send me back. I let out a heavy breath.

It’s the right thing to do. I can do this.

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