Page 74 of The Pawn
Me: Come to the Moretti house. Bring the papers.
Angelo: Moretti house? Isn’t today the funeral?
Me: Yes.
Angelo: ??
Me: I’ll see you there in two hours.
I silence my phone and tuck it into my pocket.
“Who’s that?” Allegra asks.
“My uncle. It’s nothing. There’s going to be a lot of people at the church, you know that, right?”
She nods.
“And at the house.”
“I can’t think about that part yet. Let me get through this first.”
We need to talk about it. About the formal condolences after the Mass. About the family’s inner circle, those who worked most closely with Alaric. The questions they’ll have for her, especially when they see me. Angelo’s presence may make this even harder for her. Or it may be nothing and I’m wrong.
I hope to God I’m wrong because his betrayal would break something inside me.
“Okay,” I say, forcing a smile, squeezing her hand.
She closes her eyes and takes a long breath in.
“I’m with you, Allegra. You’re not alone. Not this time. Not anymore.”
She nods, but I can see she’s nervous. Nothing to be done about that now.
Rain batters the windshield, coming down harder the nearer we get to the church. I keep my gaze out the window, watching closely as we approach, seeing the cars lined up along the road. I’m sure the lot is full. When we reach the church gates, only one SUV accompanies us through, the others pulling off along the side of the road to wait. I hope they won’t be needed, but won’t be taking any chances.
Jet’s SUV is parked in front of aNo Parkingsign just inside the gates. He’s not inside though. We approach the circular drive in front of the tall double doors. Mourners, or, more realistically, voyeurs, are dismounting from sedans with tinted windows, everyone in black, huddled beneath black umbrellas. I spy the pile of earth in a distant part of the cemetery. The headstones already there marking the graves of her father, her mother. I wonder if they buried an empty box in her place. Her body was unrecognizably burned by the time the firefighters put the fire out. If it wasn’t for DNA she’d have been a Jane Doe which is what Alaric Moretti wanted. I wonder how he planned on playing off her disappearance because I believe that’s what he was hoping for.
But that doesn’t matter anymore.
The hearse is already parked outside. I can make out the outline of Michael’s coffin. Allegra’s eyes land on it and remain there. I don’t know what she’s thinking. I don’tknow much about her relationship with her brother apart from what I witnessed. I don’t know if she loved him.
My mind wanders to Seth. To the thought of him inside one of those boxes. I’m quick to shove it away before my throat closes. Later. I’ll deal with that later.
“Boss?” the driver says, slowing down.
I nod.
He stops the SUV. Jet is waiting just outside the doors under the cover of the overhang. He’s smoking a cigarette which I know he does now and then. He’s watching our approach and once we stop, he takes a final drag and flicks the cigarette away.
A soldier comes to open my door and holds the umbrella in place.
All eyes turn to us as I step out. I take a moment to openly look at them, registering all the faces, some of them blank, most of them curious, none of them friendly. I’m interested in how they will react to seeing her on my arm. She is Malek Lombardi’s wife, as far as they’re concerned. My prisoner. At least that’s what they’ve been told.
I turn to Allegra and hold out my hand.
She places hers in mine and I see the still angry-red of the pinkie Malek cut off. How scared she must have been. How strong she is.
It takes all I have to keep that smile on my face for her. It takes everything inside me not to scream in a rage.
