Page 66

Finished, I slip out of my ballet shoes and pad barefoot to the kitchenette. After downing a glass of water and feeding Ratson, I grab my laptop from my nightstand, my boot from the floor, and settle at the table.

It’s now or never. Do or die.

I’m sick of being scared. Sick of wondering what’s on this stupid little stick.

After my talk with Cole yesterday, I realized I can be brave too.

After the computer powers up, I insert the USB into the port. An icon pops up, and I click it. I’m directed to a folder.

Online safe deposit box.

I tap a nail on the table and stare at the screen.

That means whatever Sammy gave me is confidential. Important.

My fingers hover over the touch pad.

Do I want to know? Will I regret it?

I inhale a deep breath.

Fuck it.

I click.

A web browser pops up, asking me to put in a password. I try the usual ones, 1111, 1234, but I’m no criminal mastermind, and it stays locked.

Am I relieved? Disappointed? Both?

Squinting at the screen, I settle back in my chair.

Good, I decide. I don’t want to know.

With shaking hands, I rip the USB from the port, then toss it back into my boot.

Now, on to Melly.

Into the search engine, I type in Melly Farina.

No results except for a pasta recipe.

I think about it.

A memory hits me.

“Everyone calls me Melly, but really my name’s Carmella. Like that badass bitch from The Sopranos.” Melly appraised me. “You need a nickname.”

I arched a brow. “I like Delilah.”

“Yeah, but… What about Lili? It’ll be my secret, sexy name for you.”

Now, I type Carmella Farina.

The search loads with results. I stare, bile rising in my throat.

“Missing Woman Carmella Farina Last Seen in Las Vegas”

“Carmella ‘Melly’ Farina Missing Since May”