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Salvatore reaches back from the front passenger seat and takes my hand, squeezing tight before letting go. His hair has an auburn tint, his suit isn’t nearly as well-tailored as usual, and his tie is ugly, but he’s still my handsome Salvatore. “Nervous, baby?”
“I feel like I’m sneaking around behind my father’s back and he’s about to jump out and catch me.”
Vinicius grins at me in the rearview mirror. “We’re always sneaking around behind the mayor’s back, if you think about it.”
True. I take a deep breath and remind myself what I need to do. Smile at the male detectives and ask questions that two hard-boiled detectives wouldn’t stoop to ask. My skirt is knee-length but tight and I’m wearing high heels. My long dark wig is pinned half-up, with the rest cascading down my back.
Salvatore and Vinicius have our badges clipped to their belts and I have mine around my neck. When we park outside the station and head through to the front desk, the officer on duty gives our badges the merest of glances before buzzing them through.
Vinicius told us this would happen. If you’re relaxed and look like you should be there, badges and ID almost don’t matter.
Two Coldlake detectives greet us and shake our hands, introducing themselves as Detective Hardy and Detective Simmons. We decided that Vinicius should do most of the talking as he’s the most practiced at coercion and subterfuge, and he seems in no hurry to get to the point, chatting about the precinct, the city, that one time he came to Coldlake on a family holiday.
Eventually, once we’re sitting at the detectives’ desks with mugs of coffee, Vinicius brings up the murders and asks the men who they think killed the four sisters.
Simmons waves a careless hand. “The brothers did it themselves. They’re like Roman emperors, cleansing all the competition. You take power, and you kill your family so no one can take it away from you.”
Detective Hardy nods, his expression grim. “I’m sorry, but you wasted your time coming up to Coldlake. These deaths are cold cases, but it’s an open secret in this city who murdered those girls. A shame we’ll never be able to pin it on the brothers.”
Next to me, I feel Salvatore tense up like he wants to argue with them, and I quickly say, “These organized criminals are such animals. By the way, I heard a curious thing about your upcoming election. One of the candidates for mayor is…” I trail off with a smile. “A bit strange?”
Both detectives burst out laughing.
“Oh, you mean Christian ‘corpse-fucker’ Galloway. Yeah, we have weirdos all over this city,” Detective Hardy tells me.
I exchange banter with him, pretending to be shocked yet fascinated by the gossip and giving him as many smiles as I can. We’re notthatinterested in the murders, I’m trying to convey. We’re not going to cause you more work or imply that you’re lazy or stupid.
When the detectives are relaxed again, Salvatore asks, “Out of curiosity, was there much evidence collected for this cold case?”
“Oh, yeah. There’ll be some downstairs in the basement.”
“What sort of evidence?” I ask, eyes wide.
Detective Simmons passes a hand over his jaw. “Items collected at the crime scenes like ligatures, weapons, clothing. Reports. Any DNA swabs will be in cool storage off-site, though.”
“Could we trouble you to take a quick look at what you have here? Then we’ll be on our way,” Vinicius tells them. “I should go back to Kira’s family with something concrete to report. Kira’s our local girl who was murdered.”
The Coldlake detectives exchange glances. They clearly think this is a waste of their time and effort.
“I think about that poor girl all the time,” I say sadly. “My mom knows her mom and she’s set her heart on me finding out who murdered Kira.”
Detective Hardy shrugs and strands up. “Sure. No one’s poked around in that box for years, though. There’s no guarantee there’s anything interesting in there.”
“No problem at all,” Vinicius says, getting smoothly to his feet. He catches my eye as we follow the detectives downstairs, and he gives me a quick smile and a shade of a wink.
Nice work, kitten.
The evidence room is packed with shelves all filled with archive boxes. Detective Hardy walks along the rows muttering the case numbers under his breath until he finds what he’s looking for.
“Here we go.” He weighs it in his hands and frowns before setting it on the table in front of Salvatore. “Have at it.”
My heart is beating in my throat. Salvatore pulls back the lid and Vinicius and I crowd forward to stare inside. My mouth falls open.
Whatever I expected, this wasn’t it.
13
Chiara
