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My brain was dense with pain, shock, and guilt. I tried to speak but my breath was so rapid and shallow the words wouldn’t come out.
And so I nodded.
“Do I need a l-lawyer?” I eventually stuttered.
“One has already arrived,” the woman from the consulate proclaimed. What the hell was she talking about? Was this another one of Giusy’s connections? I wanted nothing to do with that. So far I hadn’t told anyone who questioned me that Giusy was up on that mountain. I didn’t even tell Fina, but if anyone knew Fina did. All of this was a setup. It was a setup from the moment I walked into Giusy’s hotel, or maybe even before then. I knew in my bones that Giusy had a plan from the moment she first spoke to Aunt Rosie. I shook my head as hard as I could despite the pain radiating in white-hot circles around my skull.
“No. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I didn’t call anyone. That’s not my lawyer.”
“I will show her in.”
“Don’t,” I said even more forcefully than I expected. But the detective and the diplomat were already gone.
I leaned my head against the cold metal table and tried to will consciousness away. I could smell myself, still in my filthy clothes, still covered in blood, some of it mine, some of it his.
It was a long time before the door creaked back open, maybe an hour.
“Sara.”
My sister’s voice.
“Sara!” Louder this time. It couldn’t be real. I must have fallen asleep with my head on the table. I was dreaming. But Carla was very real as she pushed past the detective so forcefully he stumbled into the wall.
“Sara, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into?” She was practically on top of me, smothering me, kissing my head, my face. I buried my own face in her hair and let the tears flow freely.
“How did you get here? How did you find me?”
“I was already on my way after you didn’t answer my texts, you lunatic. I blew all our frequent-flier miles on a same-day flight to Rome and went on standby to Palermo. I’ve been in the air for a day. And then I came to town to find you. I went to the hotel you were supposed to be staying at and no one was there and then I came to the police station. They told me you were at the police station, and I thought, ‘What the hell did she do now?’ and instead of saying I was your sister I told them I was your lawyer and here I am.” She shoved me away to arm’s length to examine me. “Honey, you’re covered in blood.”
“They haven’t let me go to the bathroom to clean up.”
I glanced over at the door. It was closed and we were alone, but I knew they were listening to us.
I crumpled onto the floor and leaned against the concrete wall, pulling Carla down next to me. I needed to be as close to her as possible and I couldn’t do it in a chair. I lowered my voice to the slightest whisper.
“What am I charged with?” I shivered, dread twisting through my insides.
“Nothing,” Carla said, almost surprised by my question. “They didn’t tell you that? Assholes. They can’t charge you for protecting yourself. The female officer said she saw everything. That man was attacking you. She said you got ahold of the knife in his belt and stabbed him. You saved yourself. I think they’re mostly scared you’re going to make a big deal of this with the embassy. That guy has a record a mile long. He should have been in prison nine times over. They haven’t stopped apologizing to me since I got here.”
So many pieces were missing from that version of events. Yet I knew they didn’t matter. Relief flooded through me even though the dark truth remained. I had killed a man and no matter how terrible he was, no matter how much he deserved it, I would never be able to forget it or entirely forgive myself.
My sister was still recounting this alternate version of reality. “The officer says the owner of the hotel heard a fight in your room and when she went to check on you, you were gone. She called the police. They had a report of screaming on top of the mountain from someone else and they went to check it out. The police officer got there just as you were struggling and saw you defend yourself.”
Mostly lies, or at least a creative distortion of the truth. But what did it matter? Even if I did have proof that it had happened any differently, what could I tell them that wouldn’t incriminate me, that wouldn’t send me to prison for life, keep me away from my daughter forever? I would learn to live with the guilt of taking a life if it meant not abandoning Sophie.
“Sara, babe. I’m so sorry I let you come here alone.”
I put my head in my sister’s lap. She stroked it the way she had when we were kids.
“Do Mom and Dad know what happened?” I murmured.
“Yeah. They’re waiting for you outside that door.”
“What?” I struggled to sit up.
“I’m kidding. They don’t know anything, and they don’t have to. I’ll get you home.”
“OK.” I wanted to fall asleep with my sister rubbing my head and I wanted to wake up at home in my own bed in Philadelphia. I wanted to forget the look in Nino’s eyes as the blood drained out of his body. There was only one thing I had to do before I could leave.
