Knocked out sounded better than consciousness, so I nodded. The doctor walked over to the machine that was making the inane beeping and pressed a couple of buttons, and I watched as the IV into my arm flooded to life. I traced the liquid until it disappeared into my hand. The doctor smiled at me.
“Have a good rest, Ms. Everett. You should be able to go home tomorrow.”
With the thoughts of finally being able to put this whole thing behind me, I let my eyes drift closed, where my dreams brought me back to Gabriel on the hill.
21
Gabriel
I was standing on Philly’s famous Ben Franklin bridge with the early morning wind whipping all around me as cars sped by. I had the shattered pieces of Stacy’s cellphone in a ziplock in my hand, and I was peering over the edge at the Delaware River below. Barges passed with a heavy blare of their horns as they sailed, and the sound seeped through my skin and down to my bones. I was hoping they would knock away the lingering sounds of Stacy’s screams in my ears, but they were whispers by comparison. The sounds would haunt my nightmares every single day until I was nothing more than dirt in the ground.
I was supposed to be disposing of the phone, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It wasn’t because I lacked the spine my brothers thought necessary. It was because it was potentially the only piece of Stacy I’d be able to hang onto. I had no reservations that she would actually consider taking me back after what had happened, but at least she hadn’t died, and that was what mattered. I could say goodbye to her. I could leave the piece of me behind that was inexorably sewn into her knowing that, when I was gone, she’d be okay.
I dangled the bag over the water, but even as I was sending signals to my hand to let go, my fingers wouldn’t unlatch. They clenched even tighter against m
y command like my body was clinging desperately to what it knew Stacy gave me, even if my brain knew it was a food I could never eat again.
Molly had the frame of mind to grab it. It was a good thing she was with me because I’d probably be sitting in a cell right now if she wasn’t. I was just on the other side of the door from Stacy’s torture, but I couldn’t get to her. When Molly finally managed to shatter the kitchen window and crawl through, the Binachis thugs fled out the window they’d come in through in Stacy’s dining room and escaped. She unlocked the door, and when I saw Stacy laying in a puddle of her own blood, I felt a darkness scourge against the lightness I’d always tried to carry. I blamed Alessandro for going rogue again and causing Carducci to side, for whatever reason, with the Binachis. I blamed the Binachis and the Carduccis for bringing the woman I loved so much pain.
I was content to sit there, cradling her body in my arms until someone pried her from me, but Molly did what I was too cowardly to do for Alessandro. She stepped in. She told me that we needed to stage a break-in and get out. Call the police and let them handle it from there. She used a burner she had on her to call 911, and then she immediately disabled it. She grabbed Stacy’s purse, phone, and laptop and told me we had to go.
It took her setting her gun to my head to get me to let Stacy go, but I knew it was borne of love, not of hate or anger. She had to get me out of there, however necessary. I’d return Stacy’s purse and laptop as soon as it was safe to do so, but her phone had to go. It had all the texts and calls between her and me. If the police investigated, they’d know right where to go, and it wouldn’t matter if Stacy told them it wasn’t me. The Varasso name meant guilty in their eyes. With my fingerprints all over the place and my name in her phone, even Ricky would be hard-pressed to get me out of that.
Finally, I released the bag. It fell from my hand with a speed that suggested there were two tons in the bag, not a few ounces of phone pieces, but that was just my brain having seen the last two days in slow motion.
I turned and walked back across the bridge until I was back to where I’d left my truck. I climbed in and picked my phone up off the passenger’s seat. I had several calls and texts, but I didn’t care. I hadn’t been home yet, and I had no plans to go, at least until after I’d seen Stacy. I was laying low at a hotel until I could apologize to her and return her things. This time, it wasn’t shame or fear that kept me from my family but blind rage. If I so much as laid an eye on Alessandro, I was likely to sock him on sight, or worse. I needed to see Stacy first. She was the only thing that could extract the thread of my dad that had woven in, and I needed that gone before I spoke with my brothers again. I told Molly to call me herself if anything happened because I wouldn’t answer for my brothers. A scroll through my call log showed that none of the calls were from her, so I cleared the rest from my notifications and set a course for Stacy’s house.
I’d been by every few hours since she’d first been taken by ambulance to the hospital. I had no other way to get in touch with her, and her phone was now at the bottom of the Delaware River, so my only hope was to wait for her physical return. She was in bad shape when Molly finally got in, but her injuries weren’t enough to commit her for more than a couple of days. They’d give her good drugs, patch her up, and discharge her to recover at home.
I turned the corner onto Stacy’s street, and my heart stopped. Even before I pulled my car up in front and parked it before hopping out, I could see the front door cracked open and lights on inside. Stacy’s parents had to be at the hospital with her, and after being attacked, Stacy wouldn’t just leave her front door open. I dragged my pistol out of my waistband and braced it as I crept up the front steps. I used my foot to tilt the door away and crept quietly inside. The light was coming from Stacy’s bedroom, and I could hear a quiet shuffling through her drawers. I was glad I had her most valuable items in my car, but whatever idiot decided they’d come back to loot her house was about to have a rude awakening.
I toed my way up the stairs with my gun held out in front of my face. Stacy’s smell clung to me from all around, but I pushed it away to focus on the task at hand. When I got to the top of the stairs, I saw a figure hunched over the dresser, rummaging. I cocked my gun and stood up straight.
“Whatever’s in your hands,” I hissed, “drop it.”
The person’s hands went into the air empty.
“Now stand up and turn around. Slowly.”
The person turned around, and familiarity rocketed over me. The pixie haircut and warm brown eyes, I’d seen before, but I couldn’t place it. “Who are you?”
“M-Mira,” the woman stuttered back at me, shaking.
I dropped my gun instantly. It was Stacy’s best friend. I’d seen her briefly at the restaurant the day I accidentally stood up Carducci. “Fuck. I’m sorry. What are you doing here?”
“I flew in to help take care of Stacy,” she responded. “I’m getting her a fresh set of clothes.”
“You shouldn’t leave the front door open,” I growled back at her, more irritated with the panic she’d caused me than the danger she’d put herself in. “Preferably shut and locked, but at least closed.”
“I thought I closed it,” Mira said. “Must have been the wind.” She pulled her hands down to her sides but stayed frozen in place. “You’re Gabriel.”
I didn’t want to give her any information I didn’t have to. That she recognized me was dangerous enough. “When is Stacy coming home?”
“Today,” Mira said. “Later, after she wakes up. She needs some new clothes, though. She doesn’t want to come home in a hospital gown.”
“That sounds like her,” I said with a warm laugh, then asked, “Can you tell me what hospital they took her to? Her room?”
Mira looked at me in silence. I couldn’t tell from her searching expression if she was just weighing the decision or if she was actually managing to put together the role I’d played in what happened. I hadn’t been reacting shocked to any talk of Stacy needing care or her being in the hospital. Maybe Mira figured that I already knew what was happening. Maybe Stacy had told her about my true identity, and she was blaming me for what happened. Either way, she was reserving a response. I didn’t know what criteria she was looking for to give me the information, but I needed to at least see with my own eyes that Stacy was okay.