Release: A gripping, fast-paced thriller

by Karen Moore

  Glimpses of the wide bay of Castellammare flashed by as Sergio drove with his customary confidence and no lack of speed. Every so often, he’d interrupt Ceri’s constant flow with a brief comment, but otherwise he seemed content to let her do all the talking.

  “See how I can’t get a word in edgeways!” he grumbled good-naturedly. “God knows what it’ll be like when we’re married!”

  Ceri stretched across the gap between the seats and gave him a playful dig in the ribs. “You’ve usually got plenty to say for yourself, so don’t complain!”

  Changing the subject, she carried on: “We’re going to drop you off at the hotel and let you get settled in. We’ve got a couple of last-minute things to sort out before tomorrow. But we’ll be back for dinner tonight. The table’s booked for eight o’clock; hope that’s okay?”

  Rhys nodded. “That’s fine with us.”

  “Good,” Ceri continued. “The hotel is really something. It’s a bit off the beaten track but it’s truly amazing. I’m sure you’ll love it as much as we do. We were lucky to get the booking for the wedding reception, given its reputation.”

  “And that was only because I managed to pull a few strings, remember, cara?” said Sergio.

  “Oh, yes, I’d forgotten that,” said Ceri, offering no further explanation.

  Rhys and Sergio struck up a conversation between themselves, their voices so muted that their words were impossible to make out in the back seat.

  Ceri turned to Hanna. “So, how’s that little rascal daughter of yours?”

  “Fine. She’s really settled down in Wales,” Hanna replied. “She loves the countryside, the beaches, and all the wildlife. She’s getting on well at school and has made a couple of good friends. And she adores Rhys – calls him Daddy now. She’s stopped asking about Luciano, thank God.”

  Ceri raised an eyebrow. “It’ll be you next, then!”

  Hanna frowned. “Maybe, who knows? But I’d have to get divorced first.” And that would mean inevitable contact with Luciano again. A dispiriting thought.

  Hanna had told Ceri about Rhys wanting a child of their own. But neither of them brought the subject up now. Instead, Hanna said, “So what did you decide to do about the honeymoon?”

  Ceri shrugged. “We can’t begin to think about going away at the moment with the police investigation going on. Soon as it comes to a head and the arrests are made, Sergio will have to go to press with the story. There’ll be time enough afterwards…”

  Before reaching the city, Sergio turned off the autostrada and headed inland on a winding road.

  “So, this hotel, where is it exactly?” asked Hanna.

  Ceri frowned. “I sent you all the details. Didn’t you look at them?”

  Hanna shrugged apologetically. “I did, but with everything going on…” Truth was that she’d given them no more than a cursory glance, convinced that they’d never get to make the trip there.

  “It’s a boutique hotel some way outside Palermo, in the middle of nowhere, a contrada all of its own, miles from the nearest village. Sooo beautiful and peaceful,” Ceri replied.

  “Bet it won’t be so peaceful during the wedding reception,” said Rhys with a wry smile.

  “Hopefully not!” said Sergio. “We’ve taken the place over so we can make all the noise we want without disturbing other guests.”

  Hanna could feel her old anxieties nudging their way back into her consciousness. “How many guests did you say are coming?”

  “There’ll be thirty to forty guests at the ceremony itself in Sergio’s childhood village church. Just close friends and family. Then we’ll come out here for the wedding breakfast. More people will join us for the evening do.”

  “Is Mum going to be able to make it after all?” Rhys butted in, turning round to face the two girls.

  Marilyn, Ceri’s and Rhys’ mother, lived in Melbourne, Australia. She’d walked out of the family home when they were little, leaving their father to bring them up single-handed. He had died of a massive heart attack a few weeks before his sixtieth birthday. The relationship between Marilyn and her children remained strained, and any contact was sporadic. A few days ago, they heard that she’d broken her ankle, having fallen awkwardly playing tennis.

  Ceri pulled a face. “She reckons she needs urgent surgery, so she won’t be here. Or, at least, that’s the tale. If it’s true…”

  “Shame, but she was never much into families, was she? Certainly not ours, anyway,” commented Rhys, with a touch of bitterness. “She couldn’t even be bothered to turn up for Dad’s funeral.”

  “No surprise and no great loss. A pity Dad couldn’t be here, though.”

  Tears welled in Ceri’s eyes. Hanna gave her a hug and said, trying to lighten the mood: “Never mind, you’ve got us instead. What more could anyone wish for?”

  A faint smile flickered across Ceri’s face. “It means so much, you know, the two of you being here.”

  “Getting married is a big deal. One of those life-changing events that you’ll remember for years to come,” said Hanna, remembering how excited she’d been to marry Luciano.

  A glance from Rhys cut her short. She realised the insensitivity of her words. Was their long weekend going to be marred by old memories and difficult decisions about her own life? Whether to have a child with Rhys, and what to do about getting a divorce? She’d have to face them sooner or later, but this weekend was about Ceri and Sergio. Not her and Rhys.

  Or Luciano.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The dusty single-track road continued to wind through a landscape of rolling hills that stretched for miles with little sign of human habitation. Golden fields of wheat danced in an almost indiscernible breeze below the unforgiving afternoon sun, set high in the perfect azure sky.

  Hanna was getting restless. The drive to the hotel seemed to be taking forever. Feeling hot and clammy despite the Fiat’s fierce air-con, she longed to peel off the clothes glued to her body and dive under a cool shower. More than anything else, she was dying for a long, cold drink.

  “Not much further now!” Ceri announced cheerfully, as if sensing her discomfort.

  Hanna’s couldn’t respond, her mouth was so dry. Instead, she managed a feeble smile. They drove on for a few more kilometres, admiring the beauty of the countryside in silence. As they came over a hill, a large stone farmstead appeared ahead as if by magic, set back from the road.

  “Look, there it is now!” said Ceri, pointing excitedly at the cluster of buildings. “Masseria Cianduca! That’s the place! Isn’t it in an amazing location?”

  “Well, it’s certainly isolated, I’ll give you that,” said Rhys.

  Ceri punched his shoulder playfully. “Not half as isolated as parts of Snowdonia. You should feel at home!”

  “If it wasn’t for this baking heat,” said Rhys, wiping his brow with the back of his hand. “I’m gagging for a cold beer.”

  Sergio smiled ruefully. “Aren’t we all, amico? Our August temperatures can be quite trying if you’re not used to them.”

  “You can say that again,” Rhys growled, wriggling uncomfortably in the passenger seat. “Maybe you should have chosen a cooler month to get hitched.”

  “Don’t be such a grump!” said Hanna, secretly thinking that he had a point.

  “This place dates back to the eighteenth century. The same family have farmed here for generations. Nowadays, they still grow a lot of their own produce for the restaurant – vegetables, fruit, olive oil, and so on,” said Ceri, sounding like her former tour guide self.

  “How on earth did you manage to find a place out here?” asked Hanna.

  Ceri tapped her nose. “I have my ways.”

  Minutes later, they drew up outside the farmstead, a set of impressive stone buildings laid out in a massive square as if protecting its inhabitants against marauders. Sergio drove inside around a gurgling stone fountain, pulling up alongside a handful of top-of-the-range cars and 4x4s.

  “As you can see
, we fit perfectly with their usual clientele!” joked Sergio as they untangled their limbs and emerged stiffly from the interior of the little car.

  “I keep telling you that we need something bigger,” said Ceri with a smile. “Fiats are OK when you’re young, but in your thirties, you need something slightly more impressive, not to mention comfortable.”

  “Well, we’ll see once this story gets published,” Sergio said, locking the car. He strode in front, leading the way up a set of fan-shaped stone steps towards an entrance flanked by exotic-looking spiny aloe shrubs, full of red-orange blossoms on tall stems.

  Hanna breathed a sigh of relief as she stepped into the cool reception area. They were greeted by two young women dressed in dark jackets and crisp white blouses. Their luggage and passports were whisked away and one of the receptionists checked them in, while the other showed them to a seating area and brought a tray laden with glasses of latte di mandorla, almond milk, a speciality of the island, served with chunks of ice. Tempting though it was to down it in one go, the iciness set Hanna’s teeth on edge, making her drink it more slowly. Not so for Rhys, who polished it off with one gulp.

  “That,” he said, licking his lips with a smile of satisfaction, “was wonderful. Whatever it was…”

  As Ceri started to explain, the receptionist emerged from behind the desk to escort them to the room. Hanna and Rhys got up to follow her.

  “We’ll leave you to get settled in,” said Ceri. “There’s a great pool if you fancy a swim, and fabulous gardens. Dinner’s at eight, don’t forget!”

  “As if!” said Rhys, grabbing her arm and kissing her on the cheek.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing we can do to help?” Hanna asked.

  “Absolutely not. You’re here to relax and enjoy yourselves, starting now!” said Ceri, with mock sternness as she hugged Hanna.

  “OK, OK, we’re only too happy to do as we’re told!” said Hanna, following Rhys and the receptionist into the dark interior of the hotel, glad of the chance to relax a little before the real celebrations began.

  ***

  Hanna finished off with a spritz of her favourite perfume, a light blend of bergamot and mandarin. She gazed at herself critically in the bathroom mirror. Rhys appeared behind her, towelling his still damp hair.

  “Wow! You look stunning! Anyone’d think that it’s you getting married tomorrow!” he said admiringly, gently kissing the back of her neck. Hanna’s whole body trembled in response.

  “Thanks! You don’t look so bad yourself!” she said, thinking how handsome he looked, relaxed and tanned, dressed in a pale lemon shirt and navy chinos.

  Rhys reached for the hairdryer hanging on the wall next to the mirror, switched it on and ran the airflow quickly through his dark curls. For a moment or two, Hanna thought he bore more than a passing resemblance to Luciano, before she dismissed the thought out of hand. Returning to the bedroom, she put on a pair of coral sandals and the silver bracelet with the sea urchin charm that Ceri had given her as a present.

  “Well, I’m ready. C’mon, we don’t want to be late,” she called, reaching for the gold gift bag lying on the bed.

  “Tell me about it,” said Rhys, emerging from the bathroom, his hair nearly dry. “My stomach’s been growling for the last hour.”

  He smiled and reached for her hand as they left the room and threaded their way through the lush gardens full of palms and prickly pears towards the main building. Climbing a flight of stone steps, they found Ceri and Sergio already seated at a table in the rooftop terrace restaurant, their heads bent close together in the candlelight, almost in an embrace, laughing softly. Hanna felt her emotions stir just looking at them.

  “How happy they look together,” she murmured. “It seems almost a shame to invade their privacy.”

  Before Rhys had time to answer, a fierce growl emanated from his stomach, ruining the magic of the moment.

  “That says it all,” he said, laughing as Hanna gave him a playful punch. “C’mon, let’s go and eat. The food had better be good ‘cos I’m famished!”

  A young waiter, dressed in crisp white shirt and tight-fitting black trousers that showed off his muscled physique, greeted them and showed them to the table. Ceri and Sergio sprang apart as if they’d been doing something illicit.

  “Not interrupting anything, are we?” said Rhys, with a grin.

  “No, of course not, cheeky!” replied Ceri, as the newcomers took their seats. “How was your afternoon?”

  “Exhausting!” said Hanna. “A stroll around the grounds, a swim in that amazing pool, and a snooze in a hammock under the umbrella pines. What a place! So peaceful, and the views are spectacular.”

  “And your room?” Ceri asked.

  “Simply perfect. French windows that open onto the garden, with fabulous views of the surrounding countryside. Great air-con, designer toiletries, beautiful décor,” Hanna replied.

  “You’ve forgotten to mention the wonderful little coffee machine and the mini-bar,” Rhys added.

  “How could I possibly forget?” Hanna smiled and sat back, taking in their surroundings. A slight warm breeze carried wafts of lavender and citrus across the terrace. The sun was disappearing in an orangey-pink haze, and the only noise was the chirping of crickets and the low murmur of conversation from the handful of other diners.

  “Before I forget,” said Hanna, handing Ceri the gold gift bag. “A little something from Wales.”

  Ceri’s eyes lit up. “You shouldn’t have,” she said, diving into the bag. “Ooh, a bottle of rhubarb and ginger gin! We’ll enjoy this, won’t we?” Sergio smiled and nodded. Ceri rose from her chair and hugged Hanna and Rhys in turn. “Thank you both so much.”

  She had just sat down again when the waiter approached, bearing menus. “Gradite un aperitivo, signori?”

  Hanna needed no prompting. “Un Aperol per me.” The others nodded in agreement and the waiter disappeared to fulfil their order.

  “So, guys, what do you recommend?” asked Rhys, scrutinising the menu, trying to use his scant knowledge of the language to decipher the words.

  “Maybe we’ll leave the choice up to you,” Ceri teased. “God knows what we’d end up with!”

  Rhys adopted a mock hurt expression. “For once, dear sister, I will bow to your superior knowledge. Hanna, does anything take your fancy?

  “I wouldn’t know where to begin. Every dish sounds delicious.”

  The waiter returned and placed their drinks, together with a small plate of appetisers, on the table with a flourish, promising to return promptly to take their food order.

  Rhys took a sip of his drink. “How about the groom-to-be? Any last wishes as a single man?”

  Sergio smiled and continued to study the menu. After a few minutes, he said thoughtfully: “I reckon I’ve got a fair idea of everyone’s likes and dislikes. Shall I order for us, so each course is a surprise? Or is that too risky?”

  A murmur of consent around the table. Sergio turned to call the waiter.

  Hanna suddenly felt her spine tingle. She turned around to see three smartly-dressed middle-aged men sitting on the other side of the terrace, observing their table with great interest. They looked away quickly as she met their gaze.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “Do either of you know those men at the table behind me?” Hanna tried to make the question sound casual but even she could hear the note of alarm in her voice.

  Sergio and Ceri both glanced across the terrace.

  “No, I don’t think so,” said Sergio slowly. “Why do you ask?”

  “It’s just that… they seemed to be staring at us before,” Hanna replied, stopping herself from turning round.

  “Really? Well, they’re deep in conversation and not paying us any attention now,” said Ceri. “Probably eyeing us up. You know how Sicilian men can be. Not always subtle.”

  “Hope you’re not including me,” said Sergio with mock offence. “I don’t think I’ve ever ogled a woman in my life.
”

  “You must be the exception then, amore,” said Ceri with a smile, squeezing his hand. “But Italians do love to people-watch. Must be their innate curiosity.”

  “You’re probably right,” said Hanna, though she was far from convinced. The steely glint in the men’s eyes had conveyed anything but a passing interest in the opposite sex. A familiar sense of foreboding washed through her. Was she reading too much into what could be an innocuous situation? An overreaction on her part?

  Sitting with her back to the men’s table, there was little she could do to monitor the situation. Sergio and Ceri didn’t seem unduly concerned. She decided to let the matter drop.

  The waiter returned with an ice bucket containing a bottle of chilled Grillo, which he uncorked and poured a little for Sergio to approve, before filling their glasses and disappearing again.

  “Well, I would like to propose a toast to the happy couple,” said Rhys, raising his glass. “To Ceri and Sergio, may you have a long and happy life together.”

  “Hear, hear! Auguri! All the best for the future!” echoed Hanna. They all chinked glasses, teary-eyed, overcome with the emotion of the moment.

  Ceri looked radiant, a beaming smile on her face as she looked adoringly at Sergio, who reciprocated in kind. Hanna and Rhys exchanged appreciative glances. La vita è bella, thought Hanna happily. Life is good.

  ***

  The waiter wasted no time in bringing their starter, arancini di riso, rice balls served with a delicate red mullet and wild fennel sauce. They smiled at each other in anticipation, before devouring the delicious food.

  Halfway through their main course – succulent local Nebrodi pork cutlets in a tomato and fresh herb sauce – Hanna began to feel uncomfortable again, as if eyes were boring into her back. But without turning around, she couldn’t verify this. No one else on the table seemed to have noticed anything. She took a gulp of wine, relishing the warm glow as the alcohol began to take effect.