“You think I don’t know that, Jack?” my dad responds, sounding exhausted.
“You shouldn’t have let her go.”
“The best thing I could do for all of us was to let her go. You know that.”
I accidentally put too much pressure on the door, and it swivels open. I stumble a little, but try and style it out, brushing off my shoulders as if this was meant to happen. My dad and Jack are sitting beside a small table, an unfinished game of Go on it as they both lounge in a plush chair on each side. Jack has the biggest smile on his face while my dad shakes his head at me, picking up his glass.
As he slams it on the table, he says, “Haven’t you learned your lesson from last time, boy?”
I shrug, taking a seat across from them. “It’s great to see you too, dad. And you, Uncle Jack.”
“It would be great to see you too, but your dad is telling me you’ve not been doing your job,” Jack coos, shaking his head. I roll my eyes.
“Which job? The one where I have to lie to someone I actually like so you can try and take her family down?”
“That’s the one,” Jack says triumphantly. I lounge back in the chair, rolling my head back. I don’t want to keep doing this to her. Especially not with the realisation that I might actually, definitely like her more than I would ever admit. “You said you like her.”
“Yes, but not like that,” I lie. Jack studies me for a minute, nodding.
“I get it. She’s pretty and you’re distracted. There are millions of beautiful women, Evan,” Jack explains. But there’s nobody likeher. No one could even come close to the type of beauty and confidence she exudes.
“That’s beside the point,” my dad says. “What’s new?”
I tell them everything I can. Scarlett isn’t giving me much to work with since she hasn’t spoken to her uncle since we saw him at the restaurant. I explain to them how it must be him behind all of this and his lack of encouragement for Scarlett continuing the case could be because he was trying to make sure that she didn’t find out it was him.
“And..” dad says.
“And something is still missing,” I admit. Jack stops looking out of the window, and he turns to me now, silently urging me to continue. “I don’t know what it is, but something doesn’t feel right. It makes sense that it is him, but we have nothing to pin it on him. Nothing substantial anyway.”
“That’s what I’ve been asking you to find out,” my dad says. He rubs his hand down his face, sighing. “It’s no good hanging out with this girl to not get something concrete. We can’t have you wasting your time.”
“I’m not wasting my time. You try getting information out of a twenty-year-old girl who wouldn’t even look at me a few weeks ago,” I challenge. They both snort. “Look, it's not going to be easy. We’ve known that. But I'm telling you, the second it gets too dangerous, I’m out. For all of our sake.”
My dad blinks at me. I had to draw the line somewhere. Each day we’re getting closer and closer to something it also means we’re getting close to whoever hurt Scarlett’s dad. They could hurt us too if we’re not careful. I’d easily risk my life for her, but I don’t want to be in a position where that would have to be the case.
“Okay, fine,” my dad concedes. “Just figure it out quick, boy.”
20
Scarlett
I’ve been trying to face my demons. I really have. But it’s the actual facing them part that’s really fucked me up. What if Gio is actually behind this? What then? Will he try to attack me too?
I should have brought back-up. Maybe Henry or someone. God, even Evan sounds like an option here. I shouldn’t be scared to go into the home I’ve been going into for years, but I’m terrified.
There’s a gentle breeze in the mid-November chill, so my legs are absolutely freezing. I can’t keep ignoring Gio and I need to talk to him.
The dark brown wooden doors open when I walk up to it, swinging open with a gentle creek. I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. As I move further in, the house is eerily silent other than the old Italian music playing from his record player in the kitchen although it sounds distorted. I can’t tell if my brain is messing up my senses on purpose.
I called out my uncle's name three times without a response. I shudder as I pass through the dining area, slowing as I pass a cabinet filled with pictures of him and Sara, as well as family photos from our trips to Italy over the years. I glide silently through the room, reaching the back door which leads to a patio and a huge backyard, expanding into the small woodland that surrounds his home.
I inch toward the open garage door and that’s when I see him.
My uncle is hunched over a table that’s covered in blood. A bucket lays beside the wooden table, overflowing with a red lumpy liquid. I think I’m going to be sick.
Gio’s back is to me, his right arm moving mercilessly over something. His shoulder raises and falls as he continues kneading something, blood splattering from each direction, seeping into the brown wood of the walls. It looks like a crime scene, nothing but the sloshing sounds coming from whatever Gio is doing. I’ve never seen him like this before.
I take a step back, stumbling. I didn't even realise I was screaming until words started flowing out of my mouth. “Oh my god!”
