I had left my car a few feet behind the senator’s. It wasn’t difficult to follow them there, even on a clear night. All I had to do was to keep my distance and be patient.
Very patient.
As soon as we reached my vehicle, a black Audi, fully armored and whose license plate was changed frequently, I placed a hand on the back of Daisy's neck and dragged her to the trunk. When I opened it, she let out a whimper.
“Get in,” I ordered. There were still things to do before leaving and I couldn't take any chances with that brainless waitress.
“I won’t be able to breathe,” she whined.
I didn't care. “I said get in.”
Seeing her hesitation, I forced her body into the trunk until she was curled up in a fetal position. Before locking her in, ignoring her whines and ragged breathing, I searched the pockets of her pants until I found some kind of device. When I found her phone, I closed the trunk, locking it immediately, and listened to her muffled crying.
She was lucky enough to be alive.
I threw Daisy's phone into my car and walked towards the senator’s, to tie up the last loose ends.
Getting into the driver’s seat, plugged a small device into the car’s cigarette lighter until I heard a loud beep. It was a tiny electronic device that worked wonders at disabling and wiping the video surveillance systems of modern cars. It left no trace. If the police investigated, they would find a system failure impossible to trace back.
Next, I got out of the car and followed the senator's footsteps, a task made easier thanks to the stiletto heels the woman wore. I erased any and all footprints that didn’t belong to her and that led to the scene of the murder.
With the footprints erased, I returned to my car.
There was one last step to complete, but for that, I needed specific equipment for the task.
I grabbed a small bottle and a cloth, and returned to the senator's car, stopping by the passenger side. I couldn't leave any traces of Daisy there. That would raise questions. But I couldn't leave the inside of the vehicle immaculate either. Something as normal as an upholstery cleaning spray, like the one in my hands, wouldn't raise suspicion. It would look as if the Senator had the car cleaned before she died. No one would suspect that. So, I wiped the interior as best I could.
With no strange traces leading to the location of the body, the car's video surveillance system destroyed, and no traces of Daisy on the passenger side, the matter was almost closed. Only one final detail was missing.
I started my car and backed up until I reached the intersection that led to the road to the railroad tracks. Fortunately for everyone, the intersection was far away enough from the houses. I parked, still hearing Daisy's cries. I would deal with her later.
Walking to where I had left the senator's car, I did my best to cover the tracks of my own vehicle with my feet. Then I got into the driver's seat and backed up to my car, then drove forward again, leaving the vehicle in the same spot.
No traces. No unnecessary suspicion.
I returned to my vehicle taking the same precautions, leaving the senator's car behind, wide open with the radio on, a small detail that would help complete the dramatic scene. I set off, taking a shortcut straight to the highway.
When I was at a comfortable distance from Silver River, I pulled off a glove with my teeth and quickly dialed Alessandro Lombardi's number.
“Camillo?”
“Ciao, Alessandro.” I greeted him with a sigh. I had slept less than an hour a night for the past week, and exhaustion was beginning to get the better of me. “There are some interesting videos about Silver River online.”
Alessandro paused. “Oh, really? And where were they recorded?”
“On the outskirts of a neighborhood. Near a karaoke bar, on a street corner. They’re very interesting, they must have been recorded around three in the morning or so. Want to see them?”
“Sure, I'd love to. But I'll let you know what I think tomorrow, okay? Maybe around two in the afternoon. It'll be difficult before then.”
I ran my hand through my hair, ruffling it. “Take a look and let me know what you think before ten o'clock this morning.”
In fact, there were no videos online. I simply didn't like to discuss sensitive matters over the phone, even if I was assured that the line was secure. Because there was no such thing as a secure line. Technology was a public square in the hands of those who knew how to use it. So, it was common to speak in code with my associates, and Alessandro Lombardi in particular, with all his experience working as a lawyer for various families in our line of work, was more than used to deciphering these conversations.
“Some people like to sleep, Camillo.” He complained, and I rolled my eyes. It was the big difference between business in the United States and business in Italy. When something had to be done, we Italians got down to work. No excuses. “Okay, fine. Anything else?”
“Sì.” I thought about what to do with the woman who hadn't stopped whimpering in the trunk of the car. Daisy saw too much, but if she disappeared, people might look for her. If she died, it would raise suspicions and could lead the police to the real cause of Senator Jones' death. I only had one solution left. “I need you to draw up an employment contract for me.”
“An employment contract?”
