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The intense, urgent tone of the hushed question directly outside the door roused Halli from a semi-dream state. She cracked open one eye to squint toward the door without raising her head.
“No, solo una copia del suo passaporto.”
“Dove cozzo e? Voglio quelle video camera!”
Wide awake now, her heart beating a rapid tempo against her ribs, Halli fought the urge to sit up straight. The words that caught her attention may have been pronounced as “vee-day-oh kah-mare-ah”, but even she could figure out that translation. Equally alarming, the speaker sounded pretty upset.
Had she mentioned her camera? She sifted through her foggy memory of the story she gave the officers when she’d first arrived at the station. No, she’d kept it simple; her brother and sister drove off without her, and she took the wrong bus when trying to locate the hotel and got herself completely lost.
Outside the office, the men exchanged more words, but she couldn’t understand anything other than the anger in the one man’s voice. And even that she didn’t understand.
Yes you do.
No. She forced back rising alarm. Trent’s dire warnings couldn’t be true. She’d done the right thing by coming to the police. They would help her.
Head still down, she stared toward the door through strands of her hair. Only one man’s black leather clad shoulder was visible. She willed the men to move, desperate to see who they were, yet hardly able to breathe for the vice clamping her chest. The one with the calmer voice said something, repeated the name Alrigo, and she saw a hand settle on the leather jacket.
That man gave a swift jerk and stepped back out of reach, giving Halli a split-second glimpse of his face.
Terror seized her throat. That jaw. The harsh line of his mouth—it was the man from the darkened window of the villa. A tidal wave of panic dragged her into the undertow.
Oh my God, he really is after me! But how did he find me here?
The answer hit with sickening certainty at the exact moment Officer Greco stepped back into the room. No wonder it’d taken so long to process the ‘paperwork’.
“Ms. Sanders, if you would come with us, per favore.”
No. She couldn’t. This woman seemed so nice, yet had no qualms about turning her over to a killer.
Halli clutched her arms across her stomach and moaned. “I don’t feel so good, can I use the restroom? Please.”
The officer’s eyes flooded with concern and she hurried over to help Halli to her feet. “Si. I
will take you.”
Just outside the door, a sharp command halted Officer Greco and froze Halli in her tracks. The woman turned and spoke in rapid Italian. Halli didn’t dare look. The man in the leather jacket would know she knew who he was. Heavy footsteps sounded behind her.
She covered her mouth and doubled over with a groan. “I’m going to be sick.”
Officer Greco urged her forward, a string of irritated-sounding Italian words flowing over her shoulder. Halli held her breath, expecting a bullet in her back at any moment. By the time they reached the restroom, she was dizzy and truly nauseous.
The whole situation was insane! Thinking some guy would shoot her in the middle of a police station.
Inside the bathroom, she rushed into a stall and threw up the little bit of liquid she’d drank. Dry heaves came next; she hadn’t eaten since a light breakfast on the plane hours ago. She flushed and sat back, her stomach still rolling. A hand reached around her, offering a wet paper towel. Halli accepted it gratefully, swiping it across her clammy forehead and face before wiping her mouth.
“Can I get you a drink?” Officer Greco asked.
“Please,” Halli whispered with a nod.
She had to get out. Were they the only people in here? She leaned against the toilet bowl and glanced under the walls on either side to find the other stalls empty. Over her shoulder, she said, “A soda, please. White. It’ll help settle my stomach.”
The officer looked hesitant. Halli turned back to the toilet with dread. This one she was going to have to fake. After she gagged and wiped her face with the paper towel again, she hung her head, slumped her shoulders, and begged, “Please. Sprite or 7-Up.”
“Si. I will see what I can find.”
Halli didn’t wait for the door to close all the way before pushing to her feet. She tossed the paper towel in the direction of the garbage and went straight to the sink.
Where were the faucet handles? She waved her hands, looking for the motion activated sensor. Nothing. A quick search located two pedals on the floor, one black, one red. Desperate, she stepped on the red. Water spit out of the faucet, only it was hot. She quickly scrubbed her hands, then pressed on the black pedal, hoping for cold. One chilled handful rinsed her mouth, and two more she splashed on her face.
