The gnome has a sixth sense for things that aren’t right, and in this living room there is something that isn’t right. A strange feeling. As if something had escaped him. Maybe it’s better to skip the coffee.
Giulio gets up from the sofa. He looks around and then turns back to the kitchen.
And he finds himself face-to-face with Mr. Falconi holding a shotgun in his hand.
“Falconi, what . . . ?”
On instinct, he throws himself to the side, and this is the only reason the blow doesn’t hit him straight on. Giulio can’t tell if he heard the gunshot first or felt the sudden burning at his side. He hardly has time to realize that his legs no longer support him. And he feels a sudden sleep that grabs him and carries him down. Into a dark place.
The orange ovals burst at the same moment Viola hears the shot. She sits upright. She looks toward the mayor’s home. What is going on?
Grazia feels her car skidding. She’s driving too fast for these conditions. But she’s in a blind rage over her criminal daughter, who went from joints to harassment to aiding a suspected murderer who has escaped from house arrest. And she’s not answering her damned phone. The worst part is that she may be in over her head, given the drone footage, and that the Spirits of the Woods, too concerned with looking for photos of Falconi with Katerina, failed to notice. All they had to do was put it together, check the times. To use reason. Which is exactly what Viola never, ever does.
Grazia feels like a character in a video game, one of those desperate men who dodge dangers knowing that they’ll have to keep doing it until someone brings them down and then sayonara.
At the edge of the village, she arrives at the turn onto the county road and sees someone running like a damned maniac down the road. It’s Donato. She had told him to get a move on, and that poor soul has been running all the way from the Gherarda. She turns onto the county road. Then she puts the car in reverse and goes to pick him up.
“Boss, I ran as fast as I could,” he tells her, collapsing into the passenger seat.
“Do you have your gun?”
“My gun?”
“Yeah, hello? That thing you shoot . . .”
“Yeah, of course. What’s going on?”
As soon as Rodari goes down with a thud, Maglio and Katerina burst out of the door of the room where they’ve arranged Adele.
“Don’t you ever learn?” screams Maglio.
“Puppy, my love, did you really need to shoot this one too?” says Katerina.
“You heard him, didn’t you?” says Falconi, the shotgun still smoking in his hand. “He found something. I told you we needed to take the lawyer’s computer. If we’d done it, maybe he wouldn’t have had to die.”
“Why didn’t you take it then?” asks Maglio. “Since I had to do all the rest.”
“What do you mean, the rest? What exactly did you do? Are you still whining about that lawyer? You’re the one who had the bright idea to bury her up there, you and your obsession with American movies.”
“DNA tests on corpses don’t just happen in the movies, idiot. And when they get here it’ll take them five minutes to figure out what happened. There are tracks everywhere. How do you plan to get out of this one?”
“What’s the problem? Do you think anyone will show up around here in the next two days? Mirna went to spend time by the sea. Adele? I have no idea, why would she come here if her dear Mirna is by the sea? Maybe she went with her, right? This idiot here? Just take his car and put it somewhere in the woods. We need two days, do you get it? In two days it will all be over and you’ll be rich. You could leave today, since you don’t have to sign. Pick up tonight and go, and in two days the money will be in your account.”
“Like hell I’m leaving. Because if the money doesn’t show, how will I be able to find you? No, my friend. The agreement was that we only go our own ways once everyone has their share. And speaking of shares—”
“Someone’s here,” says Katerina, pointing at the window.
“Again?” says Maglio.
Falconi turns. The Marshal’s daughter is at the window. Wild-eyed. Rodari’s body is on the floor, practically in front of her. She saw it. And now she sees Falconi with the shotgun in his hand.
“Oh shit,” Falconi says.
“What now?” asks Maglio. “You can’t . . .”
Falconi looks him dead in the face. “You guys try to clean up a little around here.”
He walks over to the glass case where he keeps his shotguns. Next to it is the door to the stairs that lead down to the basement. The knob is smeared with blood. He’ll take care of that later. He opens a drawer and grabs a handful of cartridges. He loads two and slips the others in his pocket. Then he takes his cowboy hat and goes to leave.
“She’s just a girl,” says Maglio.
“My puppy . . . ,” Katerina calls to him.
Falconi turns to her. The sun from the outside now illuminates her angular features. “Tell me, my little bunny . . .”
“Think of the Antilles.”
Falconi smiles at her. He puts on his hat. And he goes hunting.
The double wooden door of the shed is open. The shed is hidden in the woods. There’s still some smoke in the air left by the snowmobile that had been there.
Inside, there’s a coffee table on which some items have been arranged. There’s a wooden box, its lid sitting off to the side. There’s a magnum of Dom Pérignon, whose cork lies somewhere in the woods, and next to it is one glass, which is empty. Champagne bubbles still dance just above the neck of the bottle. And there is one last object. A leather case. It’s open. It’s empty. On the top is a hand-embroidered phrase.
AN ARROW NEVER TURNS BACK
SIX
Viola runs. As she opens the door to the old Ford, she can hear the door to Falconi’s house slam.
“Viola, stop! I can explain!” the mayor cries.
But as she starts the car, she notices he still has the shotgun in his hand. Someone who wants to explain something does not do it with a shotgun. It had been Giulio on the floor. He shot him. And there were other people there. Katerina, surely. And maybe Magliarini. They shot him. She turns the key, the car starts. But it doesn’t move.
The wheels slip on the snow, which is melting in the radiant sun.
The important thing is to stay calm. Remember, Viola? You have to be calm.
“Get out of the car and we’ll talk,” says Falconi, who has almost reached her.
The car doesn’t budge.
The forest.
The story of the gnome. The woods protect him.
Viola opens the passenger door and, hidden by the car, runs into the trees.
“Stop, just one thing!”
But Viola doesn’t stop. Instead, she throws herself into the trees, just as the shot sprays a beech tree behind her. Falconi actually shot at her. The pig killed Giulio and now he wants to kill her too. Acid rises from her stomach to her throat.
She slips in the snow. She has to get over this ridge, and if she falls again, she’ll end up right in this crazy man’s mouth. But once she’s over the ridge, she can run and look for a way to hide. She has to call her mother. As soon as she gets over the ridge, she’ll do it.
Another shot. This, too, ends up in a tree.
Viola runs. She’s about to fall again. She grabs a root. She can’t slide downhill, because she’d be going backward, where he is waiting. The tears she didn’t even notice she was crying cloud her view. Somehow, she has to get over this ridge.
A distant voice. The voice of a woman. It’s Patrizia. Giulio stands up, finally light, and turns to her. Patrizia isn’t there. Giulio runs, without fatigue. He looks around. A long corridor full of rooms. It’s his old school. Why am I here? Then that voice again. It’s not Patrizia. He’s not running. His body is heavy and unmoving. He’s wrapped in darkness. I have to move I have to move I have to move. They shot him, he can feel the pain. But everything is dark. I have to open my eyes I have to open my ey
es I have to open my eyes.
“Let’s put them all in the freezer,” says the woman.
“Do you think they’ll fit?” another voice says, a man.
“He has two down there, huge ones, for wild boars.”
What are they putting in the freezer? Where are the voices coming from? Am I dead?
The first thing you have to do is open your eyes.
The gnome says it’s easy, just open them one at a time. Courage. You have to lift the gate. Opening an eyelid is such a simple thing that you never imagine that it could become such a difficult undertaking. You have to be able to unstick it from the bottom lid. As if it were glued. But the gnome says once you unstick it from the bottom one, you’ve done it. You’ll see. Once you unstick it, the rest is a piece of cake.
There she is. Falconi has spotted her. The girl is in the trees. The Falcon’s eye has always been sharp, he thinks. But it’s just a glimpse before she disappears beyond the ridge. That little girl runs like the devil, and maybe he should have taken more than one gun so he wouldn’t have to stop to reload so often.
He has to catch her. He may not even have to kill her. He could tie her up, gag her, close her away somewhere. But if she knows about the aquifer, it’s a problem. And it would be a problem even after he takes the money. Because if for some reason the permits were to be rescinded, or revoked, they would come for him. And those people don’t need international warrants. No, he needs a few years at least. Then his tracks will be covered and it won’t matter if they find the damned aquifer. But he needs time. And if the girl knows that story, then he has to keep her from telling anyone. Just one more woman he has to get out of the way. Having scruples at this point would be self-defeating. She’s just one more interruption, like all the others. The attorney, Mirna, Adele, Rodari, and now this little girl. Women always make trouble, that’s how things are. And the men who don’t know how to keep them in their place are to blame. Women have too much freedom. That is a fact. In his father’s days, Falconi thinks, this whole mess never would have happened. The men would have come to an agreement among themselves. Even a man like Rodari could be compelled to compromise in the end. But no. Women are envious, jealous, greedy, selfish. If Katerina were to become like that, he would get rid of her just as he did with all these others. But the important thing right now is to get rid of the girl.
Falconi arrives at the top of the ridge. The old woods span out before him. The girl is here. She’s close. He can see her tracks through the trees. It won’t be hard for this old hunter to sniff her out.
The patrol car pulls up in front of Falconi’s house right after Falconi disappears behind the ridge. The carabinieri didn’t see him, but the black cat hidden in a bush did.
Heave-ho. Come on, pull up the eyelid. Heave-ho. The gnome is there with the rope in hand, pulling, pulling, pulling, pulling. He gives it all his strength. Heave-ho. The important thing is to unstick it from the bottom lid. Heave-ho.
Viola is running in the woods. She reaches into her pocket for her phone to call her mother. The phone is not there.
Grazia and Donato get out of the patrol car.
“I don’t know who it was, boss. I just saw the snowmobile through the trees. It was heading toward the woods, but I didn’t see the driver.”
They approach the mayor’s home.
Grazia tries to call Viola. She hears her daughter’s phone ring. She looks around. She follows the vintage ring that Viola chose because she detests the modern ringtones. As she approaches, the sound gets louder. It’s coming from Amanda’s old Ford. That’s how they got here. Grazia peers inside the car. The iPhone is on the ground, next to the open door on the passenger’s side. Mussolini’s face is on the screen.
“They’re in the woods!”
Grazia turns in the direction of the voice. There’s someone in the trees near the mayor’s house.
“They ran into the woods right there! The mayor has a gun!”
Heave-ho. The gnome is pulling with all his strength. His face is as red as his beard now. Heave-ho. Almost there, just one last pull and the eyelid will open. Courage. Heave-ho. A glimmer of light. Finally . . . the eyelid moves and . . . nothing. It’s useless. It falls back down. It’s bolted shut. The voices return.
“The carabinieri?” says the woman.
“Don’t move, let’s pretend no one is home,” says the man.
“I left my car out back . . .”
“Yeah, stupid move. Now be quiet.”
“They’re coming closer . . .”
“Shut up! Look. Maybe we got lucky.”
“But what is she doing? Tell me what’s happening, I can’t see a thing . . .”
“The Marshal is holding the phone . . . but what’s going on? She’s looking into the woods. There’s someone out there.”
Viola should go back on her own footprints, like that little boy in The Shining, but it takes too long and the old woods are a labyrinth. She keeps running, hoping an idea will come to her. She has to hide. The Crow’s Rock. The cave. They’re not far. And the woods protect the gnome.
Grazia looks toward the trees. Dorina comes out.
“Dorina, what on earth are you doing here?”
“What now? Maglio, tell me what’s going on.” The woman’s voice sounds worried. Very worried.
“The Marshal is running into the woods.” The man’s voice sounds worried too.
“What about the other carabiniere?”
“He’s here. He has his gun. Shit, someone warned them. We’re fucked. Let’s hide. Come on. Get in there. We can’t let them find us.”
The front door is open. Donato holds up his gun. It’s the first time he’s had to think about using it. To be sure the safety is off, he’d normally fire a test shot, but something tells him that wouldn’t be a good idea. He grips it with both hands, one hand with a finger around the trigger and the other hand underneath the first to support it, like he practiced at the firing range. He can hear his heart pounding in his head.
He enters to find himself in the living room. Nobody there. Traces of blood on the ground, leading to a closed door. Maybe he should say something like “Come out with your hands up,” but it sounds like something out of a movie; and anyway, Donato’s throat is so dry that if he talks, he would probably just stammer.
He slowly approaches the door. A few steps. A light-brown wood door. The traces of blood disappear underneath it. Another step. The light-brown wood door.
Grazia follows the tracks in the snow. In glimpses, through the trees, she thinks she can see Falconi. Or maybe it’s an illusion. Her gun is drawn.
She can feel the sweat down her back. Her thighs are burning. She’s gasping for breath.
“The Crow’s Rock is over there!” says Dorina. She had managed to keep up to this point, but now she has to stop and lean against a tree.
Grazia takes off running through the snow again.
The snowmobile emerges from the woods at the back of Falconi’s house.
The white Giulietta is parked there.
Donato is standing in front of the door. He moves his left hand from the gun to the knob.
He opens the door.
SEVEN
“Please stay here tonight.” Patrizia has appeared in the ethereal form she always assumes in his memories. But this time there’s a background. It’s as if he were really with her. As if the storm were over. His memories return to their places. It already happened this way once before after that time when he walked all night and didn’t remember a thing. It took months, but in the end a lot of stuff had returned to its place, if not all of it. They’re at her house now. They’ve just started dating. He has to go to one of those group sessions with the psychologist and his mother, but he doesn’t want to. He can’t think of anything other than her. Patrizia. They closed themselves up in her apartment for two days. He arrived at her place on a Friday night with one bottle of Barolo and another of apple juice. They made love, ate spaghetti with garlic and chili in bed,
wearing only their shirts, they watched one of those Jane Austen–type movies that may have been adapted from a Jane Austen novel, they made love, they had coffee, they showered together, they made love, they thought about where to go on vacation, maybe somewhere hot, they made love. Now it’s Sunday afternoon and he has to leave. And then she says, “Stay here tonight. Please.”
“I can’t this time.”
“But that’s how it went, don’t you remember? I asked you to stay, you said yes, and then you stayed. All of this already happened. You’re remembering it now.”
“I know, it’s funny. I do remember it now, but I have to go.”
“Is it because you know it wasn’t you?”
Giulio searches for the answer. Everything has already happened, it’s just a reflection of the past.
“Maybe. I was afraid I really had killed you.”
“And now you want to leave?”
“You decide. Decide whether to let me go or not.”
“You never did want to decide anything for yourself.”
“Is that why you asked me?”
“You have to want it. From now on, you’ll have to remember that.”
The man getting off the snowmobile is carrying a quiver with twelve reinforced fir wood arrows.
The Hawthorne Season Page 20