No Way Home by Jody Feldman

Author:Jody Feldman
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sourcebooks
Published: 2022-06-02T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Francesco is waiting on his motorbike, helmet down, when the party ends. “We told you Signor Matteo would take good care of you.”

I grumble.

“Heard you were feeling no pain for a while.”

“That’s a good thing? What if I slipped? I could have cried about everything. The police could’ve been waiting to arrest you when you pulled up.”

“And yet,” he says, “they weren’t. We both know why.” He drives off, we get to the apartment, and he goes through the door first. It’s dark. Just a glow from the streetlamps outside. But he doesn’t bother to turn on the lights before he goes into their bedroom.

Why?

Something moved. Something…where? I turn right. Turn left. Pivot behind. Anjelica. In the shadows. With a gun. I stumble back. Back. Back. “Please,” I whisper. “No.”

But she doesn’t answer, doesn’t move.

I stay frozen too. Then I blink. “Anjelica…I’m, I’m sorry?”

She still doesn’t move. What’s she waiting for?

“I… I…” And my eyes adjust to the darkness. I almost want to laugh, or cry. It’s not Anjelica. Just that massive floor lamp, backlit by the streetlights.

I blow out a breath, hands on my knees, and I let my adrenaline settle. I blame Signor Matteo for that hallucination. Or maybe I should thank him. I’m on even higher alert now, a place I need to stay.

I flip on a light and take a good look around; otherwise, I’ll lie in bed listening for all the bad things to happen. Anjelica must be in the bedroom with Francesco. No one is in the kitchen or the living room. And no one is in the second bedroom. In the past two days, the ceiling has miraculously healed itself and the Rossis have turned it into a home office with a safe that, I’m sure, holds the canister and letter then whatever they have me steal next.

I turn out the light, head up to my tower, and drunkenly, but purposefully, toss my shirt over the vase and its dying flowers. By morning, the shirt is still there. Either the vase is not a camera, or they’ll move the shirt while I’m away. I lie there for a few minutes, my head surprisingly clear enough to review today’s plan.

Devin and I are due at Zia Elena’s around 10:00 a.m. with pastries from AdDad. We’ll chat a little before we start asking her questions for our “project.” At some point, I’ll notice the vase with the map. “Parlamene.” After she tells me about it, I’ll ask about the picture with the squares. Then we’ll either ask to borrow it long enough to make a copy or, if it feels right, I’ll tell her everything. I won’t admit to stealing the canister, but I will mention that the Rossis have a canister with a similar pattern as the picture. Then Devin—

Oh God! Devin can’t come. Zia Elena talked to him. He’ll insist, but he can’t come.

I’m still figuring out how to convince him when I go down to breakfast. Today, there’s a whole basket of rolls and a variety of jams and butters on the kitchen counter.

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