Page 72 of Dishonorable


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I don’t know if it was the phone ringing in the distance that woke me or something else, but at a quarter to three, I woke hearing it. Maybe it was because the sound was wrong, out of place. A sense of foreboding forced me out of bed. I put on a pair of briefs and went into the hallway. The phone stopped ringing just as I got there, and I almost returned to my own bed, but then it started again.

It came from Sofia’s room. And my gut told me something was wrong.

I didn’t bother knocking on her door. Instead, I pushed it open and switched on the light.

“Fuck.”

She wasn’t there, and the bed hadn’t been slept in. Charlie wasn’t around either, and he was always with her. Her clothes were still in the closet, and her two suitcases were tucked on a shelf. I didn’t know what toiletries she had but noticed no toothbrush in the bathroom. On my way back out, I saw the ring on the floor in the corner. Her ring.

I bent to pick it up and slipped it on my little finger, then saw the ring’s twin. Mine. It was in the far corner. I left that one where it was. The phone began to ring again. I went into the bedroom to answer it. It sat on her dresser plugged into its charger. I checked the display and saw it was Lina. It’d be nine o’clock her time, but she had to know this was the middle of our night. I swiped the green bar before it went to voice mail.

“Hello? This is Raphael.”

“Raphael?”

“Yes. Lina, how are you?”

“Where’s my sister?”

“Well, that’s a good question. Another good question is do you know what time it is?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry. I just really need to talk to Sofia. I’ve been trying for the last few hours.”

“Is everything okay?”

“I don’t know.” She sounded anxious. “Where is she? Is she okay? Why are you answering her phone?”

“Because she’s not in her room, and the phone woke me. She’s probably just downstairs.” I didn’t believe she was down there, but I unplugged the phone from the charger and walked through the house, going downstairs to check. Maybe she couldn’t sleep. Or she got hungry and went to get a snack. “I’m checking the house now, Lina. Tell me why you’re calling so late.”

Lina hesitated, and I grew more anxious to find the living room and kitchen in darkness. When I’d arrived home, both the second car and the truck had still been parked outside, so I hadn’t thought to look in on her, figuring she didn’t want to see me. Taking the easier route myself. Where the hell was she?

I went toward the cellar door.

“Lina?” I asked, opening it, switching on the light when I found it dark. She’d never go down there without turning on the lights, but I walked down anyway, finding it empty. “I can’t find your sister, so you’d better tell me what’s going on.”

“What do you mean, you can’t find her?”

“I mean she’s not here. Why are you calling so late? Maybe the two things are related.”

“She wouldn’t go anywhere without her cell phone.”

“Okay.” I tried to sound calmer than I felt. I didn’t want to worry or upset Lina. “Hold on a second. I’m going to check her call log.” Pulling the phone away from my ear, I scrolled through her call history and breathed a sigh of relief to know she’d called a taxi around ten o’clock. I guess some part of me thought Moriarty or his men would have come for her. Taken her to get to me.

Hell, maybe they had.

“Lina, she called a taxi around ten o’clock. We had a fight. She’s probably fine, but I need to figure out where she is. I’m going to need to hang up to do that.”

“Will you call me right back?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks.”

I’d almost hung up when she called my name.

“Raphael?”

“Yes?”

“Did you sign the papers to sell your property?”

“What?” How in hell did she know about that?

“Just tell me. Did you sign already?”

“No. There was a holdup. A missing document.” I heard the relief in her exhale. “Lina, what the hell is going on?”

“Don’t sign, okay? Just don’t.”

“I need more than that, and I really need to go look for Sofia.” Silence. “Lina?”

“I think my grandfather is the buyer.”

It felt like a trapdoor had opened up underneath me. I stood there holding the phone to my ear, trying to make sense of what she’d just said.

The buyer had a representative, and all the paperwork was being done over wires and faxes—as old-fashioned as the latter sounded. The buyer had been missing one legal document that was necessary for the sale to be acknowledged by Italian law. That holdup was the only reason I hadn’t signed over the property today.

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