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Just pain.
And grief.
“…you’re engaged?” I asked, completely stunned.
“Not that it’s any business of yours,” she said angrily, “…but yes.”
“Do I know hi– ”
“Where have you BEEN?!” she hissed again, and her whole body began to tremble.
“I was in prison. In Milan. I tried to find you – I had Gunnar looking for you for the last three and a half years, but your phone number had changed. So had your email address, and I didn’t where you lived.”
By now her eyes were full of tears. A single teardrop spilled down her cheek.
The sight of it was too much to bear.
“Rachel – ” I said as I moved towards her –
“STOP!” she cried out and backed away from me.
I froze in my tracks.
“If Gunnar couldn’t find me, then how did you find this house?” she snapped.
“I made a friend in prison. He has… connections on the outside. I told him about your mother and how she met your father, so my friend sent people to Pescara to ask around. They found some women who remembered your mother. Once we had her name, Gunnar was finally able to find you.”
“And it took you three and a half years to do that?” she asked accusingly.
I felt sick. I could have found her years ago if I’d agreed when Dario first offered his help.
“That was my fault. I didn’t trust my friend at first. But I found you – that’s the important thing.”
“You said you were in prison. Did they arrest you when you went on that mission?” she asked, her voice quavering.
“Yes.”
“And what did you do? Why did they put you in jail?”
“They found me with guns. Unregistered guns that didn’t belong to me. Italy’s really strict about that, so…”
I trailed off lamely.
“What were you doing on that mission?” she demanded.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me,” she snapped. “Who were you working for?”
I remembered Alistair’s warning:
No one can know what you do.
No one.
Not even Rachel.
If I revealed the truth, it could cost her her job.
