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“You might have a burner,” he says.
“I don’t have anything!” I press. “I’ve not been involved in your father’s death. Why can’t you trust me?”
The lights are flashing by us. I see the anger on Luca’s face. But more than that, below the flashing teeth and sharp words, his eyes are rimmed and red. He’s worried. He’s afraid. I almost wish that he would unleash his anger on me. It would at least let me know what he’s really thinking. With him being so quiet, I can only assume the worst. And as soon as I do that, I get in my own head.
“Just explode at me or something! Yell! Scream! Be like you were with the jetski,” I snap.
He looks at me out the side of his eyes but says nothing.
“If it will make you see clearly, if it will let you get on with grieving—”
“Don’t tell me how to grieve,” he utters. He regrips the steering wheel. Licks his lips. “I’m not screaming at you Sophie, because I want to believe that you’re not responsible. Despite what my mind and body is screaming at wanting to believe, my heart wants otherwise.”
“Then let me show you!” I take my phone back and call my father. “I’ll prove it to you,” I say. My father picks up immediately.
“Honey, are you okay?” he says immediately.
Luca and I share looks of surprise.
“Yes, I’m fine. I’m—”
“Is Luca with you?” he says quickly. “Are you both safe?”
I look at Luca with the phone pressed against my ear.
“Are you with Luca, yes or no?”
“Yes,” I utter.
“Put him on,” he says. “Quickly.”
I put the phone on speaker and place it in the middle of the car. The lights of the growing city are a blur on the horizon, a man made sun that will never really rise or set.
“Luca?” my father asks.
“I’m here, Russo,” he spits.
There’s a pause on the line. “You know?” he asks.
“I got the message tonight.” Luca is throttling the steering wheel.
“Message?” my father says. “What message?”
“My father’s dying breaths. He tried calling me and telling me who the rat is—” He bites the rest of the words off and the car is silent.
I’ve heard the message already, Luca has made me listen to it, but hearing him say it to my father makes it even more real. Someone hasdone thisto him.
“Jesus Christ,” my father utters.
“But you probably know that!” Luca says.
“Luca—” my father begins.
“Don’t talk to me like I’m someone you know!” he screams. “I’m alone with your daughter. Be very fucking careful with me.”
I inch away on my seat, suddenly very fearful of Luca. His hands are white knuckling the steering wheel. Now I don’t know what I want, the quiet anger is just as bad as the explosive one. What happened? Weren’t we just spooning in the pool house?
“Luca, you need to listen to me,” my father says. “You cannot go to your father’s house. It’s a trap. It is awarzone. The whole thing is in flames. There’s been a gunfight—”
