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Initially, I went downstairs because I had a nightmare. The only one I ever have, and I had hoped that I could talk to Domino about it. That maybe he would comfort me. Now I know that will never happen. I should probably just leave at this point. Why would they even want me here now?
“Now or never.” I muster up the courage to finish dressing, and Capo and I walk down together. The dog goes straight for the patio doors off the kitchen, and I quietly follow him outside. No one appears to be around, and I’m not brave enough to search anyone out. I let Capo to do his doggy business, then we reenter the house on silent feet, and I feed him and get him fresh water.
The coffee maker is off but still lukewarm, so clearly, someone has been around. Making a fresh pot, I grab a pastry from the container that I know Esme likely baked yesterday because they’re still fresh and wait until enough coffee has percolated before filling a cup.
“Feel up for a walk?” I gaze down at Capo, and he cocks his head to the side. I’m taking that as a yes.
Quickly jogging back upstairs after guzzling my hot drink, I grab my purse from my room and Capo’s leash. From the looks of things, Domino only got the basics for the animal, and I know it’ll only be a day or two before he needs more food. A big dog like him, I’m sure he eats a lot.
After leaving a note by the coffee machine, we head out into the bright day. Which is shocking given the rain from yesterday and the predicted forecast. Striding down the long circular drive, Capo stays next to me, only briefly stopping when he smells something of interest. The Cardarelli house is in the midst of the city but so close to the bay that I can see the ferries leaving the docks and travelling across the Tyrrhenian sea.
I’ve never been outside of Sicily before, and as I watch three boats depart, I have the desire to explore more of my home country. Catania is a beautiful city, and Palermo owns my entire heart. As much heartache as it has brought me, there is nothing I love more than exploring the old tombs and speaking to the locals. The markets are always fresh and feature the best of everything our island has to offer.
When you’re feeling trapped, though, it’s hard to appreciate the exquisite gifts before you. Keeping to the pathways and sidewalks as we stroll through the neighborhood and into the markets, Capo stays at my side. His inexplicable training is impressive, given his abusive past.
I see the way others around us avoid going near him, some even crossing the road, but my sweet boy just wags his tail, excited to encounter so many people, hoping one of them will give him a rub. As a group of teenage girls approaches us, a couple are weary, but one or two are curious and ask to pet him. Capo sniffs their hands before laying down and offering his belly for scratches. It doesn’t take long before all of them join in before going on their way once again.
Arriving at the pet store, we enter and are met with the same avoidance as outside, but Capo ignores the staring and the other dogs attempting to sniff his butt. Standing in the dog food aisle, I’m lost. I have no idea which option is best for him. They’re labeled by brand, with selections for breed, age, size, healthy diet, and more. The choices are almost overwhelming.
“It’s a tad much, isn’t it?” a young man around my age asks as he stands on the opposite side of the row. I nod, not really interested in conversing with him. He doesn’t seem to care, however. “I like this one. It has all-natural ingredients and is good for them.” He points to a brand that advertises the nutritional qualities of the food. I read the back and decide to try it. I figure Capo will let me know if he likes it or not.
“Thanks for the help.” I smile as I try to pick the fifty-pound bag up and drop it.
“Can I help you?” Looking around, I don’t see any store employees nearby, so I nod with a smile. “I’m Leo.” He returns my grin.
It takes me a minute to realize he’s waiting for me to introduce myself. “Uhm, Nicola. This is Capo.” I point down, obviously.
“Nice to meet you both. Maybe we could go to the café across the street for lemonade after I help you take this home.” Leo’s offer is friendly enough, but I’m a suspicious sort, so I don’t trust him yet.
“Actually, I’m going to have this delivered to my home. That way, they can bring a few bags.” Turning, I lead the way to the register. After arranging the delivery and payment, I expected Leo to be gone.
He’s not.
He waited outside the store, and as soon as we exit, he’s at my side.
“So, how about that lemonade?” I eye him up critically, my gut screaming at me to say no, to return home, but my manners remind me he helped me in the store. “Maybe I can walk you home; we can talk.”
Capo seems to sense my discomfort because he places his body between us and crowds me away from Leo. “Maybe next time. Thanks for the help.” Capo continues to herd me away while keeping his eye on the stranger as we walk on.
I know better than to go straight home. Especially after he showed interest in finding out where I live twice. That was a bit too much for me.
After walking around the markets, bustling down busy alleys, and up side streets, I need a break from the heat and exercise, so we find a shady place to sit in one of the parks. Our rest is short-lived, though, as we’re approached by two police officers.
* * *
Domino
Sittingbehind my father’s desk, a place I never thought I’d be, I still can’t believe the information we’ve been given. Not only is Mario Santini chief of police here, but he’s also the cousin to the man who sold Nicola. Who also ordered the hit on Nicola’s parents when she was four. An act that she witnessed. A tragedy that she’s never mentioned before.
My own father had a lot to say about it all too.
As Donato’s contact, Santi dug deeper, he learned that the day Nicola’s parents were killed, Salvatore took her. She wasn’t adopted, as she believes. She was kidnapped.
Then sold.
It’s going to kill her.
The more we learn, the more Nicola’s behavior makes sense. Whether she believes it or not, she hasn’t processed the terrifying events of her life. I bet she’s got them so deeply buried in her memory that she doesn’t remember them either. And if she does, I’d be shocked.
