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“What do you want, Flavio?”

“I know you have the box and you’ve not been answering your phone.”

“I got rid of it. Too many calls asking me if I’m happy with my long distance service.”

“Your father wants to talk to you.”

“I bet he does.”

“You’re not thinking of cheating us of what’s in that vault, are you?”

“I’m only thinking it’s a good morning for donuts.”

“Sure, you act like that. See where it gets you.”

I lean toward him just enough to see the fear flicker across his eyes. “You want to take me on?” I ask. “Feel free.”

“I know your reputation. I wouldn’t dream of it but I think you’re making a mistake.”

“You do, do you?”

“I mean with this happy family bullshit. That ain’t you, Angelo, and you know it.”

“You’d know, would you?”

“Come on. You’ve got so much blood on your hands, you have to swim instead of walk. You think you could live the life of the picket fence and the PTA meetings? Making snowmen and stiflingly fucking dull nights in watching movies?”

“You came looking for me to tell me this?”

“I came to warn you. If you don’t call your father, he’s going to send everyone he’s got to get into the vault by force, torture Natalie until she hands over the box.”

“I’ll go see him tonight.”

“And I’ll keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t slip in there while our back’s are turned.”

“You hurt her and I’ll kill you.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Now fuck off, I’ve got shit to do.”

He turns and walks away. I head back to the preschool in time to see Natalie coming out. “I’ve got to get to work,” she says. “If you’re not too busy, I’ve a delivery coming in. Could do with a hand with some of the boxes.”

“Nothing else I’d rather do.”

Chapter Seventeen

Natalie

* * *

There’s something wrong with Angelo but I can’t tell what it is. He’s not just quiet for the rest of the walk to the bookstore, he’s like a robot. I ask him questions and he grunts responses.

He doesn’t come inside when I unlock the door. “I thought you were helping me,” I say, waving my hand in front of his face. “What’s wrong?”

“It doesn’t matter,” he replies. “I should get going. I’ve got some stuff to do.”

“Do I not deserve telling?”

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