Poor Yates. Even a terrible mother might be better than a murdered one.
Suddenly feeling weak and dizzy, Eva paused and clutched the hallway doorframe, trying desperately not to be sick.
Her eyes scanned the grisly scene. She tried to take it in clinically and not emotionally: 1970s furniture. Blood. Brain on the walls. A glass table with a bottle of wine and two wine glasses.
Her mind tried to put the pieces together. And as she drew closer, Eva saw that there was something that looked like a clump of seaweed in the woman’s hand. Oh, my God. A hunk of black hair torn out by the roots. Eva involuntarily raised her hand to her head where the wound concealed underneath her darkly dyed black hair had scabbed over.
Eva frantically searched the rest of the trailer, looking for more planted evidence that would lead to her. As she did, all she could think over and over was:
All this death. And it was all her fault.
Then she heard the sirens.
Twenty-Eight
1990s
Los Angeles
Eva ran along the beach to the north. On the drive down, she’d seen a small inlet with a few homes. It was her only chance of escape.
She’d tossed the hunk of her hair into the sea as she ran on the wet sand, but she knew Vincenzo probably left other evidence pointing to her—evidence that wasn’t so obvious or as easy to find.
The vehicle was a casualty. Luckily, she didn’t think it could be traced back to her or her home.
As she ran, more emergency vehicles raced by on the highway above. She came upon an outcropping of land and rocks that cut off the sand, separating the trailer community from the beach houses just north of it. Eva waded into the sea, but was soon swept off her feet and yanked under and out toward the horizon.
When she surfaced, she frantically tried to keep her head above water as the waves continued to pound into her and suck her under. Beneath the surface, she tossed and turned but managed to kick off her boots. By the time she was thrust upward again, she was gasping for air. With only seconds to act, she reached behind her and unclasped the holster securing her long swords to her back. With relief, she felt their weight slip off her into the water.
The next wave didn’t suck her down, it just crashed over her. She managed to bob on the surface, but every time she tried to swim to shore, she was sucked out to sea again.
A riptide.
She swam parallel to land until she saw lights from the housing community. This time when she headed for shore, her efforts were successful. She pulled herself onto the sand and collapsed, panting and shivering from the cold. After a few seconds, she hauled herself to her feet and stumbled toward the nearest house. If it had an alarm system she was fucked. She hoped that the residents believed the gate at the end of their drive would be enough to keep out a common burglar. But as she neared, a light flicked on inside. She ducked back behind the outcropping of rocks. She waited there for an hour, shivering. Her adrenaline had kept her going all night and now she was crashing. She tried not to fall asleep in her tiny alcove. Just a little bit longer, she told herself.
Her patience was rewarded. As soon as the faintest pink of dawn lit the sky, she heard a door slam and a car started. She watched and waited until a beige sedan pulled out of the driveway with a woman behind the wheel. She kept her eye on the vehicle and didn’t rise from her hiding place until she saw it heading toward the main road.
Eva waited for the car to exit through the gated driveway, then ran toward the home, knowing perfectly well there might be somebody else still inside. She had a soggy Ruger still in her holster clunking against her thigh as she padded with bare feet. Her other weapons had all been swept out to sea. She crept up to the house, stopping every so often to listen for noises. She looked under large rocks, flowerpots, and on the door and window sills, looking for a hidden house key. Nothing.
She instead searched for something she could use to pick the lock. A small, flexible piece of metal did the trick.
The door clicked open easily. Before stepping inside, she scanned the adjacent walls for the flashing lights of an alarm. When she didn’t see anything, she swung the door open, put one foot inside, and listened. Nothing. She stepped inside and gently closed the door. A few steps away was a laundry room. She saw a neat stack of folded clothes on top of the dryer. Eva stripped out of her wet clothes and rummaged through the still-warm clothes. She selected a pair of black yoga pants, a long-sleeve, purple T-shirt and a fleece pullover. On the floor was a pair of sand-caked running shoes. She found some socks and slipped them on. The shoes were two sizes too big. She tied them tight. They’d work. A large bag containing smaller plastic bags hung on a hook in the laundry room. She grabbed one and stuffed her wet clothes into it, re-stacked the laundry so it looked like it did when she’d found it, and then went to search the rest of the house. When she was sure it was empty, she poked her head into the garage, hopeful there might be another car she could hotwire. There wasn’t.
She’d have to try another house.
She grabbed her bag of wet clothes and opened the back door. She took one step outside and froze. Down the road, she saw two police cars and a dark blue sedan. The sedan looked like the one she’d seen him get out of when she first saw the news report on her family’s murder.
Heart pounding, she ducked back inside. She was trapped.
She crept upstairs and watched from a window as the detective and a woman in a suit knocked on the door of a house down the road. After a few minutes, they returned to their car and pulled to the next house. When they were only two houses away, Eva could see their faces clearly. The detective had dark circles under his eyes that she hadn’t noticed before. The woman was pretty with small lips and huge eyes. As they walked back to the car, Detective Collins put his hand on her lower back, guiding her. Oh, so that’s how it was. Eva’s eyes narrowed. Interesting. There was no ring on his left finger.
The sedan pulled midway between the neighbor’s house and the house she was in before getting out again.
From her vantage point, she had a clear view of the front porch of the neighbor’s house. She watched as they knocked and waited. The woman stuck two cards into the doorframe and they turned toward the house she was in.
Thirty seconds later she heard pounding on the door below. “Police.”
She froze.
After a few minutes, she watched as Detective Collins and his colleague walked back to their vehicle. At the last minute, with his hand on the handle of the driver’s side door, Detective Collins glanced up to the second story window where she stood.
She froze. They locked eyes. Time stood still. Eva held her breath.
The detective gave the slightest, nearly imperceptible nod and turned away, opening his car door. She shrank back into the shadows of the room, hyperventilating, her heart racing. A second later, she heard both car doors slam and then the sound of the engine grew fainter as they drove away.
She dared to look through the window again. The police cars and the detective’s vehicle exited the gated community and headed north on the highway above the housing development.
Twenty minutes later, Eva pulled out of the neighbor’s garage in a brand-new Mercedes convertible. Before she left, she pulled into the spot where the detective’s car had been parked. She stared up at the window. She could clearly see a painting of the ocean on the far wall of the room.
She shook her head. He’d seen her. And he’d let her go. What that meant she didn’t know, but she didn’t want to push her luck.
As she pulled onto the highway, she relished the feeling of the wind on her face. She found a large scarf on the passenger seat and tied her hair back. She’d also donned some cat-eye sunglasses she’d found attached to the visor. They would serve as a makeshift disguise.
A few miles up the road, Eva saw a sign for a small cafe and briefly considered pulling in to get some food and coffee. She was exhausted and struggled to keep her eyes open. At the last minute to turn in, she
realized it was a foolish idea.
And it was a good thing too.
As she zoomed by, Detective Collins and his colleague emerged from the café, clutching steaming coffees. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Collins stop and stare at her vehicle as she drove past. She kept her gaze straight ahead, but she could feel the detective’s eyes on her. She kept her eyes glued on the rearview mirror, but the detective had turned away. He didn’t seem to be in a hurry to get to his car. That was twice. She wasn’t going to count on his complicity a third time.
Twenty-Nine
1990s
Sicily
There was nothing on the news about Eva Lucia Santella.
Vincenzo had spent the morning drive from the Milano airport to Sicily searching every Los Angeles news outlet and even checked the LAPD website for any mention of the Laguna Seca murder. Not a fucking word.
He threw his coffee cup splattering its contents all over the back of the livery car.
He leaned over and poured himself a shot of ouzo and downed it. And then another.
The last thing he wanted to do was turn around and get on another flight right back to America. He had hoped to never see that ugly, capitalist, materialistic country again.
He’d half expected her to follow him to Sicily on the next flight after his, but so far three days had passed without a word. If she was as smart as he believed, she’d be coming after him here, their childhood home, that was a safe haven for him but a dangerous battlefield for her.
He hoped she came soon. He had one last card up his sleeve for the Queen of Spades.
Thirty
1990s
Los Angeles
“I told my dad you probably didn’t like vegetables and that he should get you donuts for dessert. I watch COPS and they really do go to Dolly’s Donuts, so…” Dolan trailed off. He opened the door to his house.
Eva frowned and Dolan grimaced. “I’m sorry,” he said.
She crouched down in front of him on the front porch. “No, it’s not that. It’s just that I’ve misled you about my job, and I feel awful about it.”
“You’re not a cop?”
Now it was her turn to blanch. “No. I am not a cop. I’m sorry I lied to you. I do some things that police officers do. But other things I don’t. I do investigate people doing bad things, but I don’t arrest them or put them in jail.”
Dolan nodded. “So, like a private detective maybe?”
“I’m not a private detective, either. But yes, you could say my job is a little like that as far as investigating goes.”
“Okay.” He shrugged. “Want to see my house?”
And like that, the conversation was over.
Eva followed him inside. The house was modern and sleek with small windows in the front facing the city below and large windows in the back facing a swimming pool and wooded area that butted up against the hills.
The hallway opened up into a great room. Dolan’s art was framed on the walls next to what looked like a De Kooning, and his toys were scattered everywhere.
She heard voices and laughter and soft jazz coming from another room.
“This is like our living room area,” Dolan said.
A massive table in the great room was covered in various Lego projects. Eva grabbed for the doorframe as a wave of grief hit her. Again, she couldn’t help but think that Lorenzo and Dolan would’ve been fast friends. But this time, the thought didn’t feel like a stab to the heart. Instead, a bittersweet wave of sadness fell over her. It was the first time she was able to think of Lorenzo and want to smile instead of crawl into an open grave and never come out. It was a step.
“Eva?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, swiping at a lone tear trickling down her cheek. “I was just thinking of another little boy.”
Dolan looked up at her, but she quickly brushed by him, turning away from the table and saying, “I’m just so happy your dad is home from the hospital.”
“Yeah, me too.” Dolan grinned. “He’s in the kitchen with Tim. That’s my dad’s husband. Guess what? I don’t have to see my mom anymore. Tim is going to adopt me. Oh shoot, I think we were going to surprise you and tell you. That’s what we’re celebrating—the adoption.”
“That is fantastic news.”
She followed Dolan into a small kitchen.
Jonathan turned with a smile. “Glad you could make it. It’s great to see you again.”
Dolan gave her a sharp look.
“We met the other day,” Jonathan said.
“Oh.”
“But I haven’t had the pleasure,” Tim said. He came over and kissed Eva on both cheeks. “Ciao bella.”
“Parli italiano?” she said.
“No,” he said in English. “I wish. I studied it in college and spent a year in Florence. I’m an art historian.”
“Aha,” Eva said. “That explains this amazing art collection.”
“Let me show you around. Jonathan?”
He waved them on. “Go. I’m just finishing up some final touches. Dolan can help me, right buddy?”
“Sure, Dad.”
After dinner, the three adults lingered over wine and conversation. Dolan asked to be excused to play video games. “It’s the weekend, right? So, can I?”
“Sure.”
Dolan turned to Eva. “Want to come play a game with me?”
She looked at Jonathan. “I was going to help clean up.”
Jonathan shook his head and waved her off, but he turned to Dolan. “One game. We have some adult stuff to talk about.”
“Okay,” Dolan said, grumbling. “One game.”
Inside the game room, Dolan showed her how to put on the virtual reality glasses.
“If I puke, I’m blaming you,” she said. She heard him laugh.
When she was done, she took the goggles off. “That was awesome. Thanks for showing me.”
“Sure.” He grinned.
But something about this smile was slightly sad.
“How are you doing, Dolan?” Eva asked.
He looked up. “Good. I’m glad my dad’s okay.”
“Me, too. Listen, I haven’t heard back about the DNA…” She trailed off.
Dolan looked down at the carpet. “I don’t care anymore.”
Eva stood. “Hey, if you ever need someone to talk to, just let me know. You have my number now.”
“Okay.” He was quiet.
“You sure everything is okay?”
“It’s just that you seem really sad. Like when you talked about that other boy you know,” Dolan said. “It’s like you’re trying to be happy and cheerful, but you seem so sad.”
She crouched and met his eyes. “I’m not going to lie to you, Dolan. I am sad. Almost all the time. Something really bad happened, and I think I’ll always be sad.”
He frowned for a second and then his eyes widened. “Do you want to know what I do when I’m sad?”
“Sure.”
“My dad told me this. And it works. Really, it does. When I feel sad, I find someone who needs my help. Like someone who is sadder than me. Or who has maybe a rougher life than me. Sometimes if I’m really sad, my dad will take me down to volunteer at the soup kitchen. And you know what? When I’m done, I’m not sad anymore. So maybe when you are really sad, you could do something like that. I mean, heck, I’d go with you.”
Eva smiled. “You’re a true friend, Dolan.”
He grinned.
Eva knew she had to tell Dolan she was leaving. When she’d returned home after the trailer park incident, the first thing she’d done was to hack into Vincenzo’s email account—the one under his fake name, Nikos Alexopoulos.
It still only contained a few emails from the academy. She was about to click out of the account when she remembered something she’d seen in a spy movie that she and Matthew had watched. Two people had left messages for each other in the drafts folder of their email accounts.
But when she checked the drafts folder she didn’t fin
d anything. However, when she idly clicked on the spam folder. It contained one email—from an airline. She opened it. It showed that Vincenzo, under the name Nikos Alexopoulos, had earned an additional 1,400 airline miles with his recent purchase. Boom. It only took a phone call pretending to be his wife trying to use the airline miles to learn that Nikos had flown back to Sicily the night of Krystal’s murder.
Eva immediately made plans to return to Sicily.
Tonight, she would say her goodbyes. She wasn’t sure if she would ever return to Los Angeles, but she would not reveal that small detail.
“Listen, I’m going to tell your dad this in a few minutes, but I have some business in Italy and am leaving in a few days. If you need me, my cell phone will still work, but I won’t be at the house, okay?”
Eva had rigged a permanent cell phone that would bounce her whereabouts around the globe numerous times so people could reach her, but nobody would ever be able to track her.
“Okay.”
When Eva returned to the kitchen, Tim handed her a glass of red wine. “We’ve been saving this for four years.”
She took a sip. “Oh, it’s lovely.”
“Besides celebrating the upcoming adoption and wanting to thank you for your help, I invited you here for another reason,” Jonathan said. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”
Eva tilted her head, curious.
“Dolan doesn’t know this, but I’m in a support group for parents and guardians of children who have been abused. I’ve made a few good friends there, and it’s really helped me a lot. They teach us skills to be attentive parents and ideas on how to handle effects of the abuse that might crop up as the kids get older. It’s really great. And the parents, we’ve all bonded. I guess nobody really understands unless they’ve been there, right?”
Eva nodded.
Jonathan took a deep breath. “My friend, Julie. She needs your help.”
Eva felt the frown spread across her face. No way. She was leaving for Sicily in two days to track down the man who killed her family. She didn’t have the time, energy, or desire to help some stranger.
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