“I agree,” I said. “Theirs is much better.”
My father inspected the bottle and said, “This isn't a very good year. That's probably why.”
“The market didn't have a good selection. I have to go to a different shop for better wine. We can do that this weekend.”
I turned to my son and asked, “How was school today?”
“Good. I have a new girlfriend,” he announced with pride. “She has orange hair.”
“Orange? Or do you mean red?”
“It’s orange.”
“And I thought you had one Monday.”
“I did, but she wasn't any fun. She didn't like to kick the ball at playtime. So I switched to this one. Her name is Lilly.”
“And Lilly likes to kick the ball?” I asked.
“Yes. And she does it as good as me.”
I glance up at my father to see the twinkle in his eyes.
“Gabriele, Saturday morning you start football.”
“Yeah. Some of the kids at school already play.” He was chomping his food and talking at the same time.
“And Gabriele, what are the rules about talking and eating?”
His hand covered his mouth as he grinned. “I'm not supposed to.”
“That's right. Now finish up that bite and tell me more about your classmates.”
It ended up being one long sentence about Henry, George, Arthur, Oliver, Jacob, Noah, Freddie, Louie, and those were the ones I could remember. He rattled on and on about how they all loved football but some of them like to play cricket too. He wasn't very fond of that game because it was too boring. According to Gabriele, you only got to run when someone hit the ball and he didn't like that very much. And then the conversation switched to girls and how pretty they all were. It was hard to choose a girlfriend but the deciding factor for him was how well they could kick the ball.
Then out of nowhere, he asked, “Papa, are you going to bring me home another mama?”
“Why do you ask me that?”
“Because most of the boys talk about their mamas and I'd like to talk about mine. I told them I had one, but she didn't live here and I'm not allowed to visit her. I want a mama I can visit and talk to. I thought if you brought one home for me it would be better that way. Besides, you need one too.”
“I already have a mama.”
“But you don't have a...a what do they call it?”
My father stuck his two cents into the conversation. “A wife. He needs a wife.”
“Yes, Nonno. Papa needs a wife.”
“I agree, piccolino.”
“See, Papa, even Nonno says so.”
I scowled at my father. That was the last thing I needed or wanted. It would only add more complications to what I already dealt with. “I do, huh?”
“Maybe we can find one for you. What about that lady who was looking at you in the candy store?”
“You said she looked mean.”
“But she was real pretty even when she looked mean. And you know her. Maybe you can be extra nice to her so she won't be angry anymore. Then she can be my mama.”
My Papa clapped his hands. “That's an excellent idea.” He cast me a mischievous grin as I glowered at him. We would have words over this after I put Gabriele to bed.
“Enough talk about this. Gabriele, finish your dinner, please.”
“But, Papa...”
“No buts or no dessert for you.”
That did the trick and he cleaned his plate. After I'd put my son to bed and was back downstairs, I searched for my troublemaking father. He was reading by the fire.
“Are you trying to get his hopes up for nothing?” I asked harshly.
He closed his book. “Not at all. I do think you need a wife. You're too young to go through life alone.”
“I'm not alone. I have my son.”
“You need to find the love of a good woman.”
“I don't need that. You never remarried.”
“That's true, but I'd already had the perfect love and knew I'd never find it again. You have never experienced it. It is something everyone should find in their lives at least once.”
“Papa...”
“Let me finish, my son. You still have your whole life ahead of you. And Gabriele is right. He needs the love of a good mother. Not having that isn't the end of the world, but to have it is much more fulfilling. For both of you.”
“My heart will never allow it. It’s closed off from all women.”
“You are making a grave error.”
“You can't know that.”
Papa stood and walked to where I was. “Yes, I do know it. I had that once in a lifetime love. You deserve to have it too. And so does your son.” Then he went upstairs and left me alone with his words. Maybe he was right, and I did deserve it. However, my experience told me different and I feared trusting another woman with my heart or my child was an impossibility.
Chapter 9
Piper
Just who was this guy I'd been talking to?
“Ms. West?”
“Sorry. I'm more than a bit shocked. Who is he then?”
“First, where did you meet him?”
I told them about the cafe incident and how he took me for ice cream. “He seemed harmless enough.” I even told them how I joked about him being like Ted Bundy—attractive and smart but that he might be a serial killer. I was hit with a serious case of chills.
“That makes sense. We've had complaints about him before.”
“You mean he's a serial killer?” I shouted.
“No, he's not a serial killer. Calm down, Ms. West. We've had complaints of him stalking women.”
As those words hit, he was getting to be the stalker type, only I hadn't quite put that together yet. “Now that you mention it, he did seem to show up everywhere I went.”
“At first, he makes it appear coincidental, but then he turns violent toward his victims.”
“Oh, God.”
“Ms. West, it was a good thing you had that security system.”
“What do you mean?”
“It could've ended up a lot worse.”
I wasn't sure I wanted to know the answer to my next question, but I asked it anyway. “How?”
“Some of his victims have been sexually assaulted.”
I sucked in a breath and felt the room spin. This was a man I had entertained dating. I dropped my head between my knees to stop from feeling faint.
“Ms. West, are you okay?”
My hand went up in the air with a finger raised. When that horrible feeling passed, I lifted my head. “I almost dated that creep.”
“Yes, well, consider yourself lucky you didn't.”
“Who is this person?” I asked.
“His real name is Michael Critchly and he's from Liverpool, but he's used over ten aliases.”
“Liverpool? I thought he was American.”
“He's very good at making people believe whatever he wants them to.” They handed me a folder. When I opened it, I saw various pictures of “Sam” in different settings with different women. In some of them, he had long hair, some short, some he had a full beard, others just scruff. He looked different in every one.
“He's a chameleon. So now what?”
“We're searching for him. Do you have any idea where he lives?”
Now that I thought about it, I didn't. “No, and that's weird because I usually know that sort of thing. But the longer I was around him, the more I wanted to be away from him. That's probably why I didn't care. He was always pressing me about coming to my place.”
“This is quite uncomfortable for us to ask, but did you ever have sexual relations with him?”
“Absolutely not.”
“This is another uncomfortable question, but would you be willing to allow us to use you as part of a setup. You see, he doesn't know we're onto him. He's still out there, preying on women. What we'd like to do is to use you as a target.”
“Oh, I don't know.” This sou
nded extremely dangerous.
“You'd be safe at all times. This is how it would work.”
* * *
They left after explaining everything to me and I promised to think about it. The whole thing rattled me to the core. I'd never been involved in anything close to this. But I didn't want to sit around here today, alone. I wanted to be where there were a lot of people. Since it was Saturday, I knew the parks and football fields would be active, so I went there. I could people watch, which was one of my favorite things to do. I'd be surrounded by crowds, so I would be safe.
On my walk over there, my temper flared. That douchebag was ruining my life. Why the hell did he have to pick on me? And why did there have to be assholes like him in the world?
I was so pissed off, I'd gotten to the football fields much faster than expected. When I looked out in the distance, I saw teams of little boys and girls running around kicking the balls. Gosh, were they ever cute. Only it made me homesick as ever. With this crap going on in my life, the fact that my family was across the ocean and a gazillion miles away was even more clear. I wish they were here so I could lean on them if only for a day or so.
I was usually the strong one, the one who had all the answers. But right now, this problem was too big for me to manage alone. And fuck my life, all of a sudden, my vision blurred, and I was blinded by stupid tears. I stumbled over to one of the fences that bordered the field, where I leaned on it and sobbed.
“Heads up,” someone yelled, just in time for me to get clobbered on the head with a ball. It took me by surprise and I staggered, but someone grabbed my arm, preventing my fall.
“Are you okay?”
It was his voice again. Why, oh, why? The nasty professor was at my side. Of all the luck, why did mine have to be so terrible?
Jerking my arm away, I answered, sourly, “Just dandy.”
He stared at me for a brief moment. “You look like hell,” he snarled.
That was the final straw. A horrible wail ripped through me. I turned and ran as fast as I could. I ran and ran until I couldn't run anymore due to the horrific stitch in my side. I bet those little kids never got stitches in their sides. When I stopped to breathe and ease the offending ache, I glanced around and had no idea where I was. My eyes were still watery from crying so I angrily swiped at them, and then took another glance at my surroundings. Not a single thing was familiar. Now what should I do? Backtracking was an option, only I had run like a blind deer, so I didn't know which direction I came from. There were no buildings or landmarks visible and I was out on a country road somewhere.
Maybe I'd luck out and someone would drive by. I pulled out my phone and figured I'd GPS it, but I didn't have a signal. Great. I had one other option and that was to walk. I went in the direction I figured the town was and kept checking my phone. Eventually, I heard a car and stopped them. Thankfully, I was headed the right way. As it turned out, I didn't have much farther to go either. At the next bend, the town was in sight. It was a good thing because I had worked up an awful thirst after that run. A few minutes later, another car drove by. When I saw who it was, my heart thumped so loud, I was sure he heard it.
“Piper, my girl, what are you doing out here?”
“Hey, Sam.” I acted as nonchalantly as possible. “I went for a run and I'm on the way back.”
“Want a ride?”
“Nah. I'm cooling down so I'm good but thanks. I need to exorcise the demons. You won't believe what happened the other night. My apartment was broken into.”
“Seriously? That’s awful.” His surprise was genuine. He truly was a fantastic actor.
“Yeah. It totally freaked me out. I called the police, but they couldn't find out anything. My landlord installed a new security system with a camera though so I’m good.”
“Man, you were lucky. Good thing you didn't get hurt.”
“I know, right?”
“You sure you don't want a ride?”
“No, but thanks. I'm almost home.” I gestured toward town, and as we spoke, a police car drove by. I waved, but he didn't stop. Fuck it all.
“Okay, well, be careful out here.”
“I always am. See ya.” As soon as he was out of sight, I called the detective who was working my case. Seeing Sam act so cool was the clincher.
“DCI Thornton here.”
“Hello, this is Piper West.”
“Ah, Ms. West.”
“Yes, I'm calling to let you know I'm in.”
“Very good. Can you come into the station later this afternoon?”
“I'll be there around two o’clock if that works.”
“That will work out great. And thank you.”
Chapter 10
Alessandro
Piper was a wreck when I saw her, and I didn't exactly help with my scathing comment. Too bad. I'm not a mind reader and how was I to know that was her standing by the fence. The funny part was when she took the header by accident. I almost laughed, but then I noticed she'd been crying. Seemingly, almost every time I was around her, she cried. Maybe she needed counseling. The next time I saw her, perhaps I'd suggest it to her.
After practice, which Gabriele did remarkably well at, we went into town to eat lunch. We were at a small cafe when a bedraggled Piper walked in. She looked terrible again, even worse than when I saw her earlier.
“Papa, isn't that the lady from the candy shop?”
“Yes, son, it is.”
“You should go talk to her. She looks very sad.”
He was perceptive. Before I could stop him, he was out of his seat and running up to her. I watched in surprise as he tugged on her arm and then said something to her. His arms gestured a mile a minute, as they often did when he became excited. She answered him and he pointed to our table. Then she followed him over. Shit. I wish I could strangle that kid of mine, but his kind heart made it impossible.
“Hello, Professor. I hope you're having a lovely lunch. Your son has invited me to join you.”
“Yes, Papa. Miss Piper wanted to know if you said it was okay and I told her it was.”
It would be the epitome of rudeness if I said no. I didn't care what Piper thought. It was Gabriele I was concerned with. “Of course she can join us.” I pasted on a forced smile.
I watched as my small son pulled a chair out for the forlorn Ms. West. She took a seat and soon a waiter appeared to take her order. All she wanted was water, so he poured her a glass.
“You're not going to eat?” Gabriele asked.
“I'm afraid I'm not very hungry.”
“I'm starving. I played football this morning.”
“You did? I bet you're the best one on your team.”
“I am.”
“Gabriele, it's not nice to boast,” I reminded him.
“But, Papa, you even said I was better than the others.”
Piper smirked. Dammit. I'd been caught.
“You are good, and that's true enough. But when you speak to others about it, modesty is best.”
“It's obvious your son takes after you.” She hit me with that cutting remark, only it went right over Gabriele's head.
Gabriele nodded. “We look alike, don't we, Papa?”
“Yes, we do.”
“Our hair is the same.” Gabriele rubbed the top of his, and then reached for mine, only I grabbed his hand first.
“I think we get the idea, son.”
His lopsided grin made me chuckle. He was an absolute mini-me, down to his slight dimple on his right cheek.
I caught Piper observing us both. “You two do look exactly alike.”
“We do at that.”
“But I play football better than Papa.” Gabriele flashed his toothy grin. He hadn't grown into his large front teeth yet and his smile was adorable, yet comical.
I stretched out an arm and tickled him. “Is that right? Who taught you to play?”
“You did. But I got better.”
“We'll see about that.”
Suddenly, my son
asked Piper, “Why are you so sad?”
She jerked as though he'd slapped her. “Sad? I look sad?”
“Yep. Your eyes are puffed up like you cry a lot.”
Her expression hardened right before she fixed me with a scorching glare. “You know, something happened earlier that upset me and made me cry. So I was sad. But it's getting better now.”
“Is it because of my Papa?” he asked eagerly.
The walls I sat between were crushing me. I didn't want my son to get hurt, but I also didn't want her to lie either.
“Not exactly. It's because of you. You've cheered me up.”
“I have?” His eyes grew as they bounced between the two of us.
“You have because you were so nice to invite me to share your table. It's nice to share, don't you think?”
“Yes, but I didn't share anything with you.”
“Sure you did. You shared your company so I didn't have to sit alone.”
“Hey, why don't you come home with us and you can play football and meet my nonno.”
“Your nonno?”
I added, “His grandfather.”
Gabriele was bouncing in his chair. If he kept this up, the next thing he'd do was ask her to move in with us.
“That's very sweet and kind of you, but I can't. I have to be somewhere this afternoon.”
“Where?”
“Gabriele. It's not nice to pry. If Ms. West wanted to tell us, she would.”
Then silence wrapped around the three of us like an unwelcome visitor. Finally, Gabriele asked, “Aren't you going to tell us?”
“The truth is, I have to go to the police station. My apartment was broken into the other night and they want to ask me some more questions.”
Maybe that explains why she was crying this morning. “I'm sorry to hear that.” That much was true. I did not wish any harm on her.
“I'm sure,” she grumbled under her breath.
“What does that mean? Broken in to?”
“It means that someone tried to get into her apartment without her wanting them to be there, piccolino.”
“Did a mean person do it, Papa?”
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