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He shoots me an incredulous look.
“I’m going to sell them,” I say. “The money should go to the kids.” Not that they need it, but it’s the gesture that matters.
“Fuck.” He lifts his head and blinks. “For how long do you think he’s been dead?”
“A week or so.”
“Fuck,” he says again. “What do you think he died from?”
“It could’ve been a number of things—heart attack, stroke, infection, pneumonia, food poisoning… He could’ve fallen and broken a bone that eventually immobilized him.”
He ponders that in silence. After a beat, he says, “I don’t want to die like that. Fuck, man.”
“You won’t.” My tone is dry. “You’ll never live like a hermit in a shack with a herd of goats and a flock of chickens.”
He takes a packet of cigarettes from his pocket.
“Don’t smoke in my car.”
He puts away the smokes with a pout.
I let him sulk for a while before I say, “You’re smoking now?”
“Been a while.”
I raise a brow. “Wedding nerves?”
He scoffs.
“How are the arrangements coming along?” I ask.
“Dunno.” He shrugs. “Her family is handling everything.”
I grip his shoulder. “You okay?”
For a fleeting moment, something like guilt flashes in his eyes, but he schools his features before I can get an accurate read on him.
“Yeah,” he says, pursing his lips. “I’m fine.”
I put my hand back on the wheel, navigating the narrow road that zigzags down the mountain.
Our conversation falls quiet. Toma stares through the windscreen with a brooding expression for the rest of the way. It’s not until I reach home that a message from my contact in the force comes through on my phone.
It’s done.Lieutenant Lavigne is on his way.
ChapterThirteen
Sabella
At home, I charge the phone, switch it off, and look for a hiding place. I settle on the air vent in the lounge. It’s easy enough to unscrew the cover. As it will take too much time to put the screws back after each time I use the phone, I clip the cover back in place and shove the screws into the back of a drawer in the kitchen.
My hands shake a little when I’m done. I’m both ecstatic and scared about finally having a phone at my disposal that’s not limited to my husband’s number. If Angelo finds out, I don’t even want to think what he’ll do. Roch took a huge risk. Of course, if it ever comes out—heaven forbid—I’m not going to tell Angelo who gave me the phone.
The burner phone functions with a pay-as-you-go system. It’s not on contract. I can’t call or text internationally, so contacting my family is out of the question. But I can communicate with the people in town and let my friends know when I can’t make it to the village to fulfill my casual jobs. I’ll use the money Roch preloaded sparingly. As I earn more money, I can buy prepaid phone cards to top up my call time.
I never take the phone Angelo gave me with me when I go to the village because I’m scared he’s tracking it. I always make sure it’s charged, but I keep it in the nightstand drawer. Carrying Roch’s phone on me will be a big reassurance.
The next day, when I’m in the village, I save Antoinette, Corinne, Mrs. Campana, and Mr. Martin’s numbers on the new phone. They’re so consumed with yesterday’s news that no one asks where or why I finally got a phone. Everyone is talking about how Angelo saved that puppy. There’s even an article in the local newspaper. Someone snapped a cell phone photo of Angelo returning the drenched puppy to its owner. It’s published with the headline,Local patron saves puppy from drowning, on the front page.
