“You find anything?”
I take the papers I swiped from the file out of my pocket and hand them to him. “B&E brothers for life.”
He rolls his eyes, but his jaw tightens when he unfolds the paper with Hope’s medical records. “Why do they have this?Howdo they have this?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve got some names for you to look into as well. Hope wasn’t the only woman in that file.” I don’t know what the fuckProject Zeusis, but no one names anything good after a god who rapes people.
13
YOU STALK, I STALK
Hazel
I thinkI’m about to be disowned by my Italian great-grandmother. “Sure, Nonna. I definitely remembered to put salt in the pasta water,” I say down the phone as I pour said salt into the pan.
“Hmm, maybe you’ll finally learn to cook properly when you’re not working so much.”
I go to the fridge and grab some tomatoes to chop, fully doubting my Nonna’s sanity. She’s my granddad’s mom but he died before I was born and she’s spent her whole life in Florence so we only ever talk on the phone. She doesn’t know that me actually just cooking is miracle enough, let alone cookingwell. I was so tempted to order in, but my fridge is still stocked full of fresh food from the second time Flynn broke into my house and I felt bad letting it go to waste. I thought maybe calling my nonna would give me at least a chance of making something somewhat edible, but I’m starting to think I’m not Italian enough to understand her instructions.
“I like my job, Nonna.”
“You’ll have to leave it to go to Canada.”
The knife slips off the tomato. “I’m not going to Canada.”
“That’s not what you told me last time.”
I go quiet, making a hack job of halving the tomatoes. Canada is just a pipe dream. Gran told me my mom wanted to move us there before she died. I had a plan that once I finished school, I’d finally do just that. See the town my mom grew up in, live a slow peaceful life. But then my gran got sick. She made me promise her that once she’d died I’d still go but Tommy did a real number on me and the last thing I wanted to do after she was gone was leave the only place that felt safe. At this point, I don’t think moving to Canada is ever actually going to happen.
“Maybe one day, Nonna. How much garlic should I put in the sauce?”
“The right amount.”
“Which is…?”
“You will know. When it is right, it is right.”
I pick up the bulb of garlic, debating whether I need any at all because I think my nonna might be insane.
“Your grandmama would not want you to stay in that house forever,mi Tesoro.”
The stab of pain I get whenever I think of my gran knocks into me. I turn away from the counter and sink down into one of the dining chairs. It’s the one my gran used to sit in and sometimes when I’m quiet I can still hear her voice, asking for all the gossip from school or telling me stories about my parents.
“I know, Nonna.” I run my thumb over the chip in the table from when my gran tried to teach me how to chop potatoes. “I just… I’m not ready yet.”
Nonna tsks softly. “You’ll never be ready, Tesoro. Doesn’t mean you shouldn’t do it.”
My phone pings at me through my headphones, the screen lighting up with a message from Flynn.
Dexter
Your pasta is burning.
I whip around on instinct and curse.
“Nonna, I gotta go,” I say, hanging up on her as I scramble from my chair to grab the smoking saucepan. “Fuck. Shit.”
All the water has boiled away, the spaghetti stuck like glue to the bottom of the pan. I dump the pan in the sink and turn on the cold water which does nothing but add a load of burning hot steam to the mix. A cough scratches at my throat as I stare glumly at the charred spaghetti.
