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“I’ve always thought she was smarter than me,” Alfredo grunted, “and I think you have too.”
“You’re both brilliant in different ways. Check in with Roland while I talk to your mother, see if he has anything to report.”
“Yeah, I was just thinking that,” Alfredo replied as he headed for the door. “I haven’t heard from him for a couple of hours.”
The moment his son left the room, Lorenzo hurried back to the couch and sat next to his wife.
“Lorenzo, I know the note was about Bianca, and it’s good news,” she whispered hopefully before he had a chance to speak. “I could tell by the look on your face.”
“Sweetheart, it’s not good news, it’s wonderful news. She’s been rescued and is safe, but the letter instructed me to tell no one except you.”
“Thank the Lord,” she stammered, her voice cracking as she hugged him. “When will she come home?”
“I don’t know yet, but we’ll be able to speak to her at six p.m.”
“I can breathe again,” she sniffled, wiping the sudden wetness from her cheeks. “Who sent the note?”
“Carlo Vincelli.”
“But—the Vincellis are in New York, and Roland traced Bianca to Southern California. I don’t understand.”
“Neither do I, but we’ll find out soon enough. In the meantime, we can’t tell Alfredo.”
“But he should know! He’s worried sick.”
“There must be a reason for the secrecy, and we can’t go against the instructions. You should probably steer clear of him. He’ll sense your relief.”
“Yes, he will, but it won’t be easy.”
“It will be easier than it has been, and it won’t be for long. Once we get all the details, I’m sure we’ll be able to tell him.”
“Six o’clock,” she mumbled. “It’s only a few hours away and it feels like a lifetime.”
“Ariana, you’ve barely eaten since Bianca disappeared. Why don’t I call down to the kitchen and have something sent up? What do you want?”
“Yes, I’m suddenly starving. A full breakfast, the works,” she exclaimed. “Scrambled eggs, roasted tomatoes, toast, potatoes, and coffee.”
“I’ll do it right now, then I’ll keep Alfredo busy,” he said, kissing her on the cheek. “I need to speak to him anyway. I want to hear what Roland had to report.”
“Does it matter now?”
“More than ever. If he’s followed her trail to L.A. why am I hearing from Carlo Vincelli in New York? It doesn’t add up. In fact, I want to speak to Roland myself.”
* * *
Standing on the deck of a lifeguard station, Roland let out a frustrated growl and kicked the door. Like the first one he’d checked, it was bolted shut. Turning around and leaning his hands on the railing, he stared up and down the deserted beach, then at his beefy soldier on the sand below.
“Hey, Mike, I’m beginning to think this is a fucking wild goose chase,” he said angrily. “There’s no way that girl would have walked down here during that wild ass storm. Look at the debris. You can see where the waves plowed past these lifeguard stations. Besides that, they’re locked down tight. If I can’t break into them, she sure as fuck couldn’t.”
“Are you saying that guy next door—?”
“I’m saying that bastard was full of shit,” Roland snapped, marching from the deck and pacing in a circle. “My gut told me there was something off about that couple. Fuck, I should’ve been tougher, I should’ve pushed him. Call Jimmy. He would’ve left, but tell him to come back and wait by the garage.”
Not getting a response, he paused his step. His oversized underling was wandering around holding his phone in the air.
“Mike! What the fuck?”
“Sorry, Roland, there’s no signal.”
