Page 25 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

I was just hurting myself more.

I had to go to the hospital.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he said, shrugging.

Right.

That was true.

I grabbed the duct tape, using the leg of his coffee table to hold the ring so I could unroll it and cut it with my good hand.

I slapped the tape over his mouth.

Then I grabbed the bag of food on the table, frowning at how light it was, but looking at Gavino.

“I’ll be back. And then you’re going to tell me what you did to my father.”

He couldn’t answer, of course, so I grabbed his key ring, then made my way out the door, looking down at the floor where I thought I’d left the garbage bag I’d gotten sick in.

But I guess I’d been in such a state the night before that I’d gotten rid of it without remembering.

I shook that off, closed, and locked the door.

I tossed the light bag of spoiled dinner.

Then made my way out of the building to go to the hospital.

And as I sat for hours in the waiting room with more pressing emergencies ahead of me, I absolutely did not wonder what it would be like to have someone there with me. Talking to me. Reassuring me.

And I definitely didn’t find myself picturing Gavino Costa as that someone.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Gavino

I gave her about fifteen minutes to make sure she wasn’t going to come back.

Then I freed myself and grabbed a quick shower. Luckily, I didn’t have a knack for fashion like some of my brothers. So when I liked something, I bought several of them. I had plenty of identical T-shirts and pants to put on before I grabbed my spare key and rushed out of the building.

I made my way around the corner, getting a bagel with egg, cheese, and bacon and a large coffee.

I drank the coffee on the walk back to my place, then ate the bagel outside before tossing the evidence in the hall trash chute before making my way back into my apartment.

I folded the blanket she’d woken up under, putting it on the back of the couch. I twisted the sleeve of saltines so they didn’t go bad. Turned off the coffee pot. Put a new trash bag in the garbage. Brushed my teeth.

Then I set my alarm and dropped into bed.

This was Manhattan.

A broken wrist was something you went to the hospital for, but it wasn’t something they prioritized.

Caitlin would be in the waiting room for hours before she even made it back to get a scan and a cast. And I’d never been in a hospital that didn’t take a dog’s age to get you your discharge papers.

I was looking at a solid five-hour nap before she was even making her way back.

I hadn’t texted my brother to tell him not to show up as planned. Because depending on how this went, I did want a way out if she pulled out the damn rope or something.

That meant I had, what, twelve hours or so once she got back to figure out why the hell she thought I made her father disappear, what she knew about him and his associates, and any other details that might help me figure out this mystery.