Alessandro stared into her eyes, standing still, hanging on her. He was losing into her bright green of her eyes. She swallowed, getting lost in his eyes too. She breathed, biting her lips. She grabbed his neck, pulling him to her, kissing his lips as he entered her. She arched her pelvis, going to meet him.
Passion grew with each push, while he kissed her and touched her throat. Still inside her, he was teasing her breasts with his tongue, and she sank her teeth into his chin. She tickled his neck with her tongue. His fingers crawled into his back.
They felt the pleasure rise. Alessandro sensed the moment when she was about to reach the climax. He let it go, and then lay, still inside her. Chiara closed her eyes. She didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t blame her anger, this time. So what? He was there, inside her, silent. She saw the torment in his eyes. He turned his head to escape from her gaze. Then, he slipped out from her.
Alessandro sat up, running a hand through his hair. He had to tell something. He turned to her; her face blushed, her hair was upset:
“Chiara, I don’t know what to say. Perhaps, it would be better if you go. Never mind. I can manage it.”
“Are you crazy? You think I forgot? I don’t trust you! Are you corrupt, Alessandro? Are you involved with the men who killed Claudia today?”
He jerked, advancing forward the window; he was naked, still he didn’t look awkward. She watched at his sculpted buttocks and his firm legs and flared.
He rose slowly, catching up. He spun around, staring into her eyes.
“You know nothing!”
His heart was beating so fast… why? She was beautiful. Why he had just sent a report in which he said that the presence of her hampered his work? Actually, he knew why… and she would have known too: his mission was compromised, but he wanted her there, why?
She reached:
“Ale, we are too upset. Maybe it’s better if I go. We’ll talk later, won’t we?”
“I’m doing my work. War will have war!” The infinite sweetness that he had shown just before had vanished. He stared coldly at her:
“Why don’t you just give up?”
“I don’t think I will!” Her traitor heart was beating faster before him. She wanted to believe in his innocence, in the face of all login, and she really wanted to be able to trust him.
Suddenly, he seemed to realize that they were too close to the window. He moved quickly, moving her too, continuing to hold her. The bare skin of her was against him. He stared at her into the eyes. He was looking for her lips; he was enjoying it to the end, a long:
“I care about you, damn it! Chiara, get out!”
She froze and stared at him, with her lips parted. He had his fists clenched; his eyes were empty. She wondered if she had just imagined his words:
“Excuse me?” He shook his head, dressing up. She sighed.
“I ride you to your room, Chiara. I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have happened!”
She stared intently at him. A long shiver ran down her spine. What did he hint at? The shooting? Making love to her?
Yet, she had felt very strong feelings while they were together. She felt the passion, the affection. Then, she couldn’t have dreamed his “I care about you”.
But now, she collapsed again into the nightmare, in a swing of fire and ice, of suspects and passion.
She dressed quickly. While he was dressing too, she walked into living room. She watched on the desk:
“The brown case isn’t here!” She jumped, turning abruptly, watching him in the doorway; she lowered her face:
“Believe it or not, it wasn’t that I was looking for!”
He arched an eyebrow. He didn’t trust her. She read it clean and clear in his face. She lifted her chin.
It wasn’t her problem.
Chapter 29
“Shall we go?”
He showed her the street. Once, he had closed like a clam. Chiara was trembling: his words still sounded in her mind. I care about you. The question was: what was he feeling for her? In other circumstances, she probably would have reported him. He would be suspended. She couldn’t explain why she was taking time. She couldn’t understand why. He looked anxious; he was watching the road and checking the windows.
“Alessandro?”
Nothing.
She stared at him: he was completely lost. She repeated:
“Ale?” But he kept driving.
“Detective!” she screamed. He turned to her and squinted:
“What‘s wrong?”
“I would like to go at Carlo’s home. Do you know where he lives? He was very upset.”
The silence in the car was heavy. He clenched his jaw:
“Yes, he is upset. Obviously. His colleague is dead. When you share a car with someone, you share your life with her or him. But you don’t know it, right? Because you teach, you observe, you investigate, you ruin!”
“Who the fuck are you? Who are you to allow saying that to me? But who do you think yourself?”
“How many colleagues have you seen die, Pilati? How many?”
She stared at him. She swallowed:
“Too many, Ferrari. Always too many.”
He was already regretting of his words. Beyond all, she didn’t deserve it. He reached a zone she couldn’t identify. She imagined that they went at Carlo’s home.
“Here we are!” They went down from the car. She looked at Carlo’s home: a terraces house, so different from the apartment of Alessandro. She observed the well-tended garden, the hedge.
Carlo was in the garden, watching them.
“Guys, what are you doing here?”
“We came to visit, Carlo!” Alessandro replied for her; he was approaching him. He stood still, watching him into his eyes:
“Let’s say that I feel better. Do you want a beer?”
Alessandro shook his head:
“I don’t. I have to go; many things to do.” Chiara whirled, watching at him.
He was looking at the phone. He was suddenly tense, or maybe he was tense before, and she didn’t notice? Carlo spoke to her, but she didn’t heard. She snapped at the sentence of Alessandro:
“Carlo, look, can you drive her at the hotel? Thank you!”
“Of course. Chiara, come in. I’ll show you my house!”
Chiara couldn’t refuse. She also had the opportunity to confirm that Carlo was completely unrelated to the whole story; she nodded. As she entered in the home, she felt the penetrating gaze of Alessandro on her back.
The house was decorated in a simple and elegant mood. She stared at him:
“It’s very beautiful!”
“Thank you. Amina chose the furniture. She lives here no more, of course; she moved close to her parents.”
They sat on the chairs, in silence. He played with the bottle of beer.
“I had to call for reinforcements before. She was scared. She was young, inexperienced. Have you warned her parents, right?”
Chiara nodded:
“Yes, we did. Carlo…. Look: isn’t your fault, okay?”
She looked up and stood, looking at the pictures on the walls. She turned slowly:
“They are very nice!” Suddenly, she understood what it had to ring the bell! The guys with the skateboard! Some of them appeared in the pictures of Amina’s restaurant. She was sure.
She looked better at the pictures on the walls:
“Are they your family? All of them?”
“No, no. Amina runs a bunch of kids of her community. A sort of free after school, or better, a foster home. It welcomes kids who aren’t well cared. She offers them a place to stay. She keeps them off the road!”
Chiara refrained from responding: “Are you sure?” She smiled and said with shrill voice:
“How good she is!”
She narrowed her eyes, trying to think if Alessandro had reacted somehow seeing the kids. She was too confused: too many things were happening all along. She realized that Carlo was still talking, but she had not heard even half a w
ord. She nodded, and then she sighed:
“Carlo, would you kindly ride me to my hotel, now? I’m pretty tired.”
He jumped, passing a hand around his face as if to banish fatigue and pain. He nodded:
“Of course. I’m sorry. I’m not very good company, now.”
“Don’t worry.”
Once she entered in her room at the hotel, she turned her laptop on. The message icon was blinking: she sighed and clicked on it. There was e-mail from Marco:
“I just had a talk with your detective’s supervisors. They classified Detective Ferrari’s reports as insufficient and inadequate. Maybe we should talk. Call me!”
She grabbed the phone, leaning on the sill.
Damn. From bad to worse. That day was definitely awful.
“Marco, tell me.”
“As I told you by e-mail, I just talked to Ferrari’s bosses. They also have doubts that he has passed on the other side. In theory, they told him to stop everything and make a comprehensive report, but he refused. They are considering a suspension, but he didn’t respond to phone calls. Chiara, be careful. If he know that you’re there to investigate, you could risk!”
Chiara told to him about the shooting. He winced: Marco hoped that one day she could be considering him more than a friend; it would never happen. She interrupted him:
“Marco, you know we’re friends, right? Don’t make me a lecture as a boyfriend or a father. I can take care of myself. But now, I think it is urgent that I find something tangible, in one way or another. I can’t wait any longer. Presentation of the participants at the meeting at the Convention Centre will be tomorrow. Although, it’s a closed event, we’re getting in the heart!”
“Talk to your boss, Chiara!”
She snorted:
“Keep calm, okay? Thank you!” But as soon as she hung up, she called Spisni and Ruggeri:
“I need radio silence for at least 48 hours, boss. We’ll report as soon as possible, but I’m in the heart of the question. I can exclude the corruption of Barbieri, okay?”
“Pilati, are you okay?” The concern in the voice of her boss moved her. She smiled, touched:
“Yes, boss. Keep quiet. I have everything under control!”
She could imagine him. She could imagine his puzzled and worried expression. He was like an open book to her. They have worked together for five years; he was always helpful, ready to support her; gruff, but with gold-hearted. She knew that he would sustain her anything she did.
She sighed. She had to call her mother. She was very anxious when Chiara was away:
“Chiara, thank goodness. How are you?”
“Well, mom. I’m fine. Keep quiet!”
“I miss our dinners!”
Chiara smiled:
“Oh, yes. I miss them too. When I get back, I’ll make my roast with walnuts cream. Okay?”
Her mother sighed. She knew that she missed both her and her sister. She also knew that she was worried about their job: their father died on duty.
“Mommy, I’ll be back soon. A couple of weeks, and I’ll be home. I’ll take ten days off. We can go to the spa. What about that?”
While she spoke, she diddled with a pen, sketching and scribbling on a paper. She realized that she had drawn Alessandro. She shut her eyes, and crumpled the paper. It wasn’t possible. But what was going on to her?
If she added up all the information, she couldn’t rule out that he had begun to investigate, pretending to be a friend. Then, he had actually passed to the dark side. That was the reason why he didn’t send frequent reports. Who did contact him before at Carlo’s home?
Alessandro went into the car, after leaving Carlo and Chiara. He grabbed the phone:
“What’s going on?” He roared, then continued:
“Do you know what happened today? Here, I was there… I was there, damn it!”
He was furious, sitting in the car. He drummed his fingers against the steering wheel: he was cold. He saw again Claudia’s face. He felt her life slip away from her hands. He closed his eyes, under the impact of the events.
“Leave me alone, Jamal, leave me alone today, okay?”
He hung up. He was furious with himself, with his uniform, with Jamal.
He noticed that with his fingers he written Chiara on the fogged glass. Damn, he saw again her hands on him, her mouth sweet as honey. Her lips were as red as an apple. She had surrounded his face with her hands… then she had kissed him. He resented the fire that flared up just as their lips touched. As always, she was able to do inflame him: he wanted to hold her in arms, he wanted to be honest, even if it meant asking her to choose him instead of her duty. Even, at the cost of putting her in front of the difficult choice between her uniform and her heart.
But he had been silent. He had decided to close all behind a wall of silence. He ran a hand through his hair, while the phone was ringing again. He stared at it, terrified, then, he sighed with relief:
“Tom… so you know. Yes, I’m fine. No, I’ll go on, keep calm!”
He hung up, resting to stare at the blue sky. He breathed, before restarting the car.
Chapter 30
Chiara was going to investigate in that house. She had to know what was there. She had to find the connections. The photos she had seen in Carlo’s home and at the restaurant were connected to that house, though he was totally unaware of it. Of this, she was positive. Even the phone records and movements didn’t indicate anything suspect. She ran two ringers on her temples, and then she grabbed the phone. It was ringing:
“Hello, sis’!”
“Chiara, hi. Look, are you okay? I heard worrying news. Are you all right?”
She sighed. Her sister was a Carabiniere, not a policewoman, but she could be informed. Suddenly, she wanted to tell her everything, to let off steam:
“It’s quite complicated. You have time?”
“Always, for you. Tell me everything.”
Chiara noticed how the words flowed fluid, how the facts she was telling seemed even more complicated. She waited, when she ended her story:
“Chiara, are you sure of what you’re doing? Do you believe in Alessandro’s innocence?”
The blank question of her sister froze her. Did she? But, above all, she remained speechless in front of the next question:
“Chiara, you want to trust him. Why? You were always pragmatic, determined, and spotless; why didn’t you write a report? Why are you taking time? Think about it. Are you falling for him?”
Chiara stopped breathing:
“Mia, but… are you crazy?”
“I’m not. What about you?”
More doubts wrapped around her mind! Yet her sister’s questions were fair, they didn’t help:
“I am not!”
“Look, do you want me to check my database?”
Chiara bit her own lip:
“Mmh… I don’t know. It’s not a bad idea …” Her heart told her more and more that he couldn’t be guilty; her mind told her that too many clues were statically a proof; there were too many questions unanswered. However, he hid something. Damn. The suspect had crept even in his supervisors. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply. Enough, she had decided: she was going alone and checking the address where he had taken the case.
The messages icon flashed on the screen: a new e-mail. She sat, crossing her legs. As she saw the name of Alessandro, she felt her heart beat faster and she felt the warmth spread between her legs.
It was his personal file, complete. She sighed. She checked the data, drumming her fingers on the table. He had a brother, Tommaso; he was an architect with the hobby of photography. There were no shadows in his personal life, there were no foreign banks accounts, and there were no billionaire houses.
She answered to the phone. Marco said:
“It could be just an ideology, Chiara. Are you considering this?”
“Marco, what do you mean?”
“I mean that he could have embraced the ideology! Maybe, he wasn’t corru
pt, he just passed the other side.”
Chiara breathed: she couldn’t believe it. It was a bit of jealousy that she felt in the voice of Marco?
“Marco… I don’t think so. And… what is this touch of malice that I hear in your voice?”
He sighed:
“Chiara, I feel you so strange!” It was possible. Everyone thought that she was strange, but why? Was it so strange that she wanted to be sure before charging him with such serious crimes and spoiling his life and career? It had nothing to do with the fact that she had dreamed that he kissed her and told her “I love you, marry me.”
She didn’t want get married. Certainly, she wouldn’t even want to fall in love with a colleague. She closed her eyes. She had to sort it out quickly. She could no longer delay; if he was guilty, he would have to pay as was proper.
But she kept thinking and hoping… how stupid! She thought back to Mia’s words. She was in love, even if she doesn’t want to admit. She saw all pink: that was why the absurd idea that had come between her and Alessandro there was something. She shrugged, saying mentally to herself:
“There is nothing!”
She had to understand what was between Alessandro and Jamal; what was the hidden connection between Alessandro and that house.
At this point, she had only one chance: go to the source. She had to go back to the house and try and enter. So she did; her hands were clenched by tension. She was biting her lip. Once she arrived in the area, she parked the car. She looked at the phone. She wanted to... what? Alert Alessandro? For what? To hear what? He had tried in every way to not show her the case. He was not going to tell her. No, she shook her head. She had to find out by herself. She looked around, crossing the street: the house seemed empty. The street was half-deserted. She looked around furtively: there was no one. Everything was silent. She pulled herself up on the window and slipped inside the house. It was dark. She moved quickly, checking the rooms; apparently, there was nothing strange. Given the paintings, drawings, carpets, she gathered there lived Middle Eastern people. She looked at the photos: one of them was Jamal. What the hell was he going to do? Who were these people? She was looking for documents and data, photographing the most possible. She was moving fast. She watched at the desk; there were other cases similar to the on she had seen at Alessandro’s home. She watched at them; then she saw the block: it was empty. She grabbed the pencil and she hoped there was a trace of that was written on the missing sheet.
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