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He shakes his head. “Nope. They always spoke on Messenger, apparently. I’m not on Facebook and I know you aren’t either.”
Marco and I have no interest in social media. We don’t have any need for it. “I’ll set up an account,” he offers. “Can’t be that difficult. Then I’ll send her what I think they call a ‘friend request’.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Without warning, my phone buzzes.
Caller ID withheld.
In normal circumstances, I wouldn’t pick up.
But these are not normal circumstances.
I tap the answer icon. A metallic voice comes down the line.
“We have your girl, Commissario. Either you drop your investigation into the Syndicate or we’ll kill her.”
The line goes dead.
I drop the phone with a roar and place my head in my hands.Chapter Twenty-SevenAlessio“Who was that?” Marco shoots me a worried look
I tell him and add that it was a recorded message with the voice synthesized.
“What will you do?”
“My job, amore. I will do my job.”
“I’m scared they’ll kill Sefi.” His voice comes out choked, and a tear rolls down his cheek.
I lean in and brush the tear away. “I’ll find her before they can do that.”
And I will. So help me God, I’ll find our beautiful angel before that fucker Framassi carries out his threat.
Marco grabs my hand. “What about your brother and the anti-mafia squad? Will they be able to intervene?”
“If we have something for them to go on, maybe…” I squeeze Marco’s wrist. “Tell me. What time did Giorgio pick you up at the airport?”
“Five o’clock, give or take a few minutes.”
“What time was it when you asked him to check on Sefi?”
He taps his fingers on his chin. “Must have been around three thirty. He was picking up groceries for my parents. He delivered them at around four. He was on his way there when I called him.”
“The window of opportunity for him to take Sefi is too small. He retrieved the spare keys from your mother, searched the apartment, then took the keys back to her.” I pause and gather my thoughts. “He sped to the airport to meet you. What would he have done with Sefi in such a short interval?”
Marco’s brows draw together. “He could have had an accomplice. But why? If Giorgio was the perpetrator, why the fuck would he have involved himself with the Syndicate?”
“For the same reason a lot of people get sucked into organized crime… extortion, debt, greed. Take your pick.” I sigh heavily. “We still don’t know it was him, but Sefi wouldn’t have opened the door to someone she didn’t know…”
“If he took her, you’ll be able to go after him and find her…”
I catch the hope in his expression and hold him close. “I told you I’d find her… And I will.”
He squirms from my arms and glances at me. “You know Giorgio takes my boat home to Pallestrina so he can get here faster in the mornings. I won’t tell him I’m not going in to work tomorrow. Maybe you can talk to him when he arrives?”
My mouth twists. “Koffler is on duty tonight. I’m going to call him now and get him to pick Giorgio up. Time is of the essence. I should interview your boatman straight away.”
I don’t divulge my fear to Marco that, if Giorgio did kidnap Sefi, Framassi will have used him as a pawn. He could put a hit on Giorgio before we can get to him, worried that if we suspect Giorgio and bring him in, he’ll crack under pressure and reveal her location. I shift my position on the sofa. What Marco doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. I don’t want him to worry even more.
He releases a long, slow breath. “I wish there was something I could do to help...”
“Set up that Facebook profile, amore, and send Camila a friend request. She must be going out of her mind not being able to contact her sister. They speak daily, you know.” I get to my feet. “I’ll call Koffler and then I’ll go down to the station.”Chapter Twenty-EightMarcoOnce Alessio has left, I set up that Facebook profile and send a friend request to the only Camila Martinez I find living in Long Beach whose picture looks like those Sefi showed me of her sister. Within minutes I notice Camila has accepted. I open Messenger and call her. She picks up straight away.
“I’ve been so fucking worried,” she comes right out with it. “Where is my sister?”
“I’m sorry. So very sorry. We think she’s been kidnapped,” I say, my throat clogging.
“Oh. My. God.” Camila shrills. “I knew this would happen. Warned her. But would she listen? No fucking way…”
“We tried to persuade her to return to the States.” I can’t keep the agitation from my tone. “She didn’t want to go.”
“You should have insisted,” Camila snaps. “Manhandled her onto a plane if necessary.”
