by Katy Rose
“We find the defendant not stable enough or sound of mind to stand trial. We recommend she go to Grand Oaks and seek professional help.”
“Thank you for your service. You are all dismissed. Kora Volpe, I hereby sentence you to treatment at Grand Oaks for the next three years. After which you will be evaluated and if you pass, you will be released into your father’s custody. If not, you will remain there. Court is adjourned.” The judge bangs her gavel down repeatedly before leaving the podium. I turn around and hug Babbino. He did it! I was free. Or freer than prison! Tucking my head down we make our way passed the flashing camera lights and the press to a waiting car.
“Grand Oaks, please Stewart,” Babbino says to the driver.
The car pulls out, and Mr. McElroy shakes Babbino’s hand and mine. “Drop me at my office if you would Alessio. I plan on picking up my car and then getting the wife. We will be in Italy by tomorrow night.”
“Of course.” Babbino pulls out his cell phone and hands it to me. “Press send. There is someone who wants to talk to you.” He mouths the words “FBI listening” as I take the phone.
I do as I am told and the voice that comes through the line has me dropping the phone. “It is about bloody time. How is she? Did everything go, alright?” I am back in the warehouse in an instant watching Kaleb get shot and fall. I see him wink, and I still cannot stop the tears. It is one thing to talk about your twin being “murdered.” It is a completely different thing to watch it happen.
“Is this real?” I croak out.
“Kora. It is real! It’s Darío, your cousin from Italy. Everything will work out Barney. Trust in the process.” Kaleb’s voice echoes through the phone, and I cling to the plastic and glass-like it is my lifeline. He is alive. My accusing glare moves to my father. The car pulls over, and Mr. McElroy gets out at his office building. I focus on the phone call.
“How are you? Will you get to come visit me?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
“I am swamped with training right now, but soon I will come visit. Perhaps you can come visit and live here in Italy with us?” Looking to Babbino, I nod before remembering that Kaleb cannot hear my head shaking.
“Yeah, I would like that. They gave me three years in the psych ward of Grand Oaks.” I say lamely.
“Good. That is really good. Time really flies when you are there Kora. Work on your art and before you know it someone will be there to pick you up. There are a letter and gift from me under the seat. Take care of yourself. TI amo sorella.” He hangs up the phone, and I reach under the seat. There toward the back is a large box, and a letter taped to the top. I rip it open and instantly tear up. There is a large black sketch pad in the box and brand-new pack of ebony pencils and a blending stump. Opening the sketch pad, I see all of my sketches of animals taped into it. I also see some crude sketches made by Kaleb. “Volpe above all else. We will always find a way to protect our own. You can find your own wings but remember your home.” -Kaleb
Ripping open the manila envelope I see a letter from Kaleb and pictures. It is Kaleb's autopsy photographs as well as photographs taken from several yards away of his funeral. Tears rush to my eyes, and I wipe at them angrily. The letter simply says:
Dear Kora,
Time is not my friend right now, so I will make it quick. I had to die. My game of vengeance had come to an end. You knew it would. Between the two of us, you got all of the best parts. I know you want to kick my ass and soon enough you can. Be nice to our “cousin” Darío, and when certain risks come into your life…take the leap of faith. Trust me. You will know when she comes. I love you, kid. Always have. Volpe above all else.
K
My smile stretches as the tears roll from my eyes. Looking over at Babbino he is on the phone with our cousin telling him that he will be back in Italy in a day or two and that his training should be over in a month so he can come and visit me. I tune out their technical talk. I remember the last few days as I watch the buildings shrink into farmland. Grand Oaks is outside the city. I lay my head back and think about the funeral. It all happened so fast I haven’t gotten a chance to breathe until now. I release the breath I have been holding since I watched them put Kaleb in the Mausoleum.
Two days ago, the funeral, Cypress Hills Cemetery
Babbino spared no expense or time collecting Kaleb’s body. There are a lot of people at the gates mourning Kaleb’s death. Strange, but people don’t seem to be upset that we killed a bunch of people. The sky is overcast with a chance of snow sometime today, and the wind chill is enough to freeze you like a popsicle. I stand next to Babbino with frozen tears on my face. I pull my black Navy coat closer around me. The priest sprinkles a little dirt and finishes off the prayer.
“For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God of his great mercy to take unto himself the soul of our dear brother here departed, we, therefore, commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust; in sure and certain hope of the Resurrection to eternal life, through our Lord Jesus Christ; who shall change our vile body, that it may be like
unto his glorious body, according to the mighty working, whereby he can subdue all things to himself.”
I keep my head down and foughtt off the cold as I place my sketch pad and a single rose in the casket. Looking at Kaleb’s face so peaceful and relaxed, I am struck again that it is real. Babbino places a hand on my shoulder and leans into me. “Tell him goodbye, for now, Kora. Eventually, you two will be reunited again.”
Nodding sadly, I lean down close to where Kaleb lays. “You are in SO much trouble! When I see you again, I will kill you for the torture you have put me through your selfish asshole. Why couldn’t you tell me what you had planned so I didn’t spend the last couple days bawling? You took all the blame! That isn’t right. Babbino thinks he can get me off with an insanity defense and it is all thanks to you. Part of me wants to hug you, and another part of me wishes I could bring you back to kill you all over again!”
Turning back to Babbino, we start the long walk back to the car. I look up and catch sight of blonde hair and mismatched eyes. I hold their stare as we continue walking. She doesn’ t look away either. Her rose-colored mouth tilts up slightly on one side, and my mouth pulls in a mirrored movement. The car door is opened, and she raises one hand before turning and walking in the other direction. Probably for the best. If she only knew how fucked up, I was, she wouldn’t walk. She would run.
Current Day
The crunch of the drive rumbles under the tires of our car as we drive closer to the imposing building. Grand Oaks is a huge building. The head charge nurse comes out and fusses about my bags to a few orderlies. They collect three huge suitcases and take them upstairs to the twelfth floor. The little round nurse makes her way over to us with a bright smile. I know that smile, it is the smile that says Babbino paid enough for my own floor and probably this place’s bills for the next three years with more to come. Great.
“I am Mrs. Brown; I am the head of Grand Oaks. Come, let’s take a tour of the facility, so you know where everything is. I hope you understand that you will have a guard near you at all times. There are several guards in all common rooms at one time. This is the main entry. When family or friends come to visit you that room on the right is where you can visit them. There are cameras every twenty or so feet. The glass windows are bulletproof and unbreakable. We do monitor residents for signs of depression or suicide. There has yet to be a case of self-harm here.” Mrs. Brown swipes a key card in front of a card reader, and there is a soft buzz noise.
We enter a long hallway with doors on either side. There are teenagers and young adults in several of them. One the right there is a big open common area where several more people sit around in pajama type clothes watching television or reading generic magazines. “You will be in one on one therapy until your personal therapist decides you are well enough to go into group therapy. You will be mandated to socialize at least thirty minutes a day. Here on the left is the mess hall. You
will eat your meals here or in your room. Your father has paid extra for you to have this privilege. We do ask that you attempt to get well so we can turn that information into the court. Like in other state facilities, the more you find yourself and adhere to our rules and structure, the better your reports will be.” Guiding us into the elevator, she presses the 12A button.
The doors open up into a gorgeous lavender room. There is a queen-sized soft bed in the bedroom with a nice soft bedspread. It is a far cry from the “state-provided rooms” three floors down. The dresser has a lot of my old pajamas and some new ones in there. No shoes with air laces though. Only two sets of slippers. There is a television mounted to the wall above the dresser, and the pictures look to be bolted down. I notice no cords on the window shades or lamp either.
I turn in a circle and notice my own bathroom with a small shower stall and sink and toilet. “There are no razors or anything you could use as a weapon on yourself or others in here. If you need to shave your legs, you can call one of the guards in to supervise.” Squishing up my face, I nod and walk into a small sitting room. This room is also a light lavender color with a dark brown leather couch and oversized chair. There are a desk and ease to one side. On top of the desk are several boxes of art supplies.
“You are mandated to help around the facility. Gardening, kitchen duty, some laundry. The more you do and show you are a model resident, the shorter your stay will be.” She smiles at me, and I read between the lines. Help around here, do what I am told, and I will be out of here sooner than I know. Check lady. I can pretend to be good. I have my entire life thus far.
“One more thing, no cell phones or outside communication for the first thirty days. State rules, you understand.”
“It is a very nice cell. Thank you.” I smirk a little to show her I am joking. She smiles and nods. Removing my coat, I hand over my cell phone to Babbino and give him one last hug. Three years. That is only one thousand and ninety-five days. I can do this. Right? Sighing I look out the window at the rain falling in sheets as Mrs. Brown walks my father out of my “room.”
I wake up in the dark. Fuck my chest and head hurt. What the fuck am I in a box? Pushing out and up the ceiling raises up, and I see some sunlight. It is cold in here, but I hear the hum of a space heater. My eyes adjust, and I take in the room. I am in the mausoleum. My memories are coming back as I look around. Wait, am I in a fucking coffin? That is so sick. Our plan must have worked. I pat myself down for a cigarette and realize I am dressed in a suit, but no smokes in my pocket. I look around and notice a yellow sticky note attached to the lid of the coffin.
Look in case 1144.
-A
Getting out I stand there on unsteady legs holding onto the death box. I feel like I got hit by a truck. I look down into the coffin and notice an electric blanket that must be plugged into the same place as the room heater. There are Kora’s sketch pad and several smallish trinkets from people who must have come to the funeral. Searching out the box numbered 1144 I stumble over there. The little door is toward the bottom of the rows. The door is the size of a cereal box. I reach in and pull out the black kill bag.
Inside there is a change of clothes, some Tylenol and a bottle of water, a cellphone, and a file folder of new documentation. The name on the new driver's license and birth certificate is Darío Antonio Volpe. Age twenty-six. The picture is me, but with black hair. Wow. The wonders of modern technology are astounding. I look down in the bag and see a wallet and inside are credit cards with Darío's name one them. He could have picked a better name, but whatever.
Collecting Kora’s sketchbook and the electric blanket I throw them in the bag. I take two Tylenol and guzzle the bottle of water. Turning off the small heater, I head out of the Volpe Mausoleum in New York city. The phone vibrates to alert me to a new voice mail.
“Darío, it is Uncle Alessio. I hope you are well; I know the drugs you took were a little hard on the body. Today is December sixteenth. I want you to use the plane ticket in the back of the folder and come to Italy. You will stay at the Volpe property while you study the business.”
Laughing at his use of uncle, I make my way down 53rd street and hail a taxi. The car trip is short and uneventful. When I get to the airport, it is a quick process finding my gate and boarding the plane to Italy. First-class is a delight for long trips. It is a ten-hour flight from New York to Pisa, and another hour in the car from there to the vineyard property. I have only been there once before, but I remember Alessio had US contractors come in and gut the castle-style home adding the most modern technology and making it a single cell entity that flies under the radar of all governments I am sure. It will be a nice little vacation. Kora would have loved this. Just like that my mood sours a little.
Siena, Tuscany Italy is beautiful in the winter, a warm fifty degrees, but not snowing yet. That is good. I get out of the taxi. Tipping generously, I repeat graze several times before walking up to the main house. My new cellphone rings and I slide the bar across. “Uncle. How are you?”
“Much better now that I hear your voice, nephew. How was your flight?” Alessio asks.
“It was alright; there was a stewardess on there who was abundantly helpful. I arrived at the Tuscan home not long ago. Are you coming soon?” I make my way into the property and toward the kitchen. It is two in the afternoon here, so the sun is shining in the west windows. All this gorgeous scenery reminds me that my sister is probably in a jail cell, and I suddenly need a drink.
“No, Kora has her trial today, in an hour. The one determining her mental capacity to stand actual trial.” He says casually.
“Oh, call me as soon as you are done. Do you see it going favorably?” I ask.
“Of course. I am going to meet her there. I have paid both the prosecution and four jurors off to make sure she goes to Grand Oaks. I also paid Grand Oaks for a top floor suite. It should be like a mini-vacation considering she is supposed to go to trial for conspiracy of murder and first-degree murder on thirty counts.”
“Of course. Thank you, uncle. When am I supposed to start training?” I ask quietly, there is a Gardner walking around the back of the house but no other humans it looks like.
“We will start as soon as I arrive in the nineteenth. The rest of the Consortium should arrive in the next few days. Are you ready for this?” He asks.
“I have never been more ready for anything in my life,” I answer, honestly.
“Wonderful, we will talk soon.” The dial tone is the next thing I hear.
I go about looking through cabinets and find a scotch glass and a bottle. Gathering my supplies, I head into the study. I had gone through the new file of paperwork several times; now I wanted to learn what the news outlets were saying about me. Passing by the mirror, I take a minute to study the new black hair and eyebrows. The spray tan Alessio had done is a nice touch. The brown contacts that hide my light blue ones also add to the disguise. I look very different than I used to. The only thing that didn’t change is my penchant for suits.
I pull up the Time’s website and read their latest articles. There are several news stories about the “Young Kid Killers from NYU.” Kora and I are not being sent off like pariahs though if anything most people seem to understand my motive. I read through the psychologist's report that labeled me a “mission killer” oh if they only knew.
My phone rings and I pounce on it, hoping to hear anything at all about Kora or the trial. “It is about bloody time. How is she? Did everything go, alright?”
I hear the phone drop and Kora scrambling for it. Her sharp intake of breath has me sighing in relief. I also forget she thought I was dead. Shit. She is going to kick my ass the next time she sees me.
Pulling out a cigarette, I light one and walk out to the balcony and trying to give her a little peace. She has to go to Grand Oaks for a few years, but in all honesty, I won’t leave her there even that long. What I have said and the code we live by, Volpe above all else, I mean that. It is the only thing in my
fucking life I have been serious about — that and killing anyone who hurt my family.
Alessio comes on the line again. “Mateo will be there this evening. The rest should meet me there tomorrow. We will have a meeting then. You are sure this is what you want? I am not pressuring you in any way?”
“I am sure. It is time I stopped fucking around and stepped up. Between you and me, I am ready. I need to learn the family businesses. Has Kora stepped up for DelPrete?” I ask him quietly.
“No, let's give her a little longer to grow up and get her head right. If she decides on her own, so be it. If not? We combine under your rule. I am getting old kid. I am ready to retire, I think.” He chuckles humorlessly. Men in our situations they don’t retire. Usually, you are dead by fifty. So, at fifty- four Alessio is considered an ancient.
“I understand sir. You will have your retirement, and I won't let you down.” I say before disconnecting. I spend some time on the balcony smoking and looking out over the vineyard. This is just one of several legitimate businesses that Volpe Industries run. It makes enough money with Red Fox Wine that one could live comfortably. As the scotch makes its way into my blood system, I breathe a little easier. Everything will turn out alright, I hope.
Mateo lets himself in around four that afternoon. I am in the kitchen with pasta boiling and bread in the oven. I am chopping the salad when I feel someone looking at me. I glance up and see him leaning against the door frame.
“Where did you learn to cook? Alessio?” Mateo asks.
“Nope, I used to work as a line chef in an Italian restaurant in the village back in Chicago. It gave me something to do. When Alessio found out he paid for culinary courses. I find cooking relieves stress, unlike anything else ever did.” I reply honestly.
“Are you ready for this Kaleb, I mean Darío?” He asks. Coming over and sampling the homemade sauce.