Chapter 5 - THE CHILD'S DRAWING
The Mustang’s brakes screamed as Luca slammed his foot on the pedal.
The heavy muscle car fishtailed on the slick, rain-soaked asphalt, stopping mere inches from the black SUV blocking the road.
Silas stood in the high beams, the assault rifle leveled directly at our windshield.
“Get down!” Luca shouted, pushing my head toward the floorboard.
Gunfire erupted.
The windshield shattered, showering us in a storm of safety glass. The deafening roar of the rifle echoed inside the small cabin.
Luca didn’t reach for his gun. He reached for the gearshift.
He threw the Mustang into reverse, slammed the gas, and spun the wheel. The car whipped around in a violent 180-degree turn.
More bullets pinged off the heavy steel trunk.
Luca shifted back into drive and floored it, tearing back down the road we had just come from.
“Are you hit?” he yelled over the roaring engine and the wind howling through the broken glass.
“I’m fine!” I shouted, brushing glass out of my hair. “Where are we going?”
“We can’t outrun them in this weather,” Luca said grimly. “And we can’t take the main highway to the school. Silas will call it in. Leo’s men will be waiting.”
“Then how do we get to Matteo?”
“We don’t,” Luca said, his eyes scanning the dark road. “We go to the one place Leo won’t look. Because it’s the one place I swore I would never go back to.”
Ten minutes later, Luca turned off the headlights. We rolled silently up a long, unpaved gravel driveway hidden deep in the Illinois woods.
At the end of the drive sat a massive, decaying Victorian house. The paint was peeling, and the windows were completely dark.
“Whose house is this?” I asked as we parked behind a thick row of pine trees.
“Valentina’s,” Luca said quietly.
My heart skipped a beat. “Marcus’s widow? The woman who blames you for his death?”
“Yes.”
“Luca, if Leo is trying to kill you, won’t she help him?”
“No,” Luca said, stepping out of the car. “Because Valentina hates me, but she loves her son. If Leo threatened Matteo, she needs to know.”
We walked through the freezing rain up to the heavy wooden porch. Luca didn’t knock. He pulled a hidden key from beneath a loose floorboard and unlocked the door.
The house smelled of dust, old wood, and lavender.
We moved silently through the dark hallway.
Suddenly, a light snapped on in the living room.
“Don’t take another step, Luca.”
Standing at the top of the stairs was a strikingly beautiful woman in a silk robe. Valentina.
She was holding a double-barreled shotgun, and it was pointed directly at Luca’s chest.
“Valentina,” Luca said softly, keeping his hands visible. “Put the gun down. Leo is making a move. He has Vanessa, and he’s going after Matteo.”
Valentina didn’t lower the weapon. Her hands were shaking, but her eyes were cold.
“You’re lying,” she said. “Leo was just here.”
Luca froze. “What?”
“Leo came here an hour ago,” Valentina said, tears spilling over her eyelashes. “He said you had lost your mind. He said you were sick, paranoid, and violently lashing out. He said he had to take Matteo to protect him from you.”
“And you let him?” Luca roared, stepping forward.
Valentina cocked the shotgun. “I didn’t have a choice! He had three armed men with him. He said if I tried to stop him, he would kill me in front of my son.”
I stepped out from behind Luca.
“Valentina,” I said gently, using my calmest, most authoritative nursing voice. “Look at me. I’m a registered nurse. Look at Luca’s face. Look at his skin. He isn’t paranoid. He’s recovering from insulin poisoning. Leo paid his fiancée to kill him, and when it failed, Leo took your son as leverage.”
Valentina looked at me, then at Luca. The terrible truth began to sink in.
Slowly, she lowered the shotgun. She collapsed onto the top step, burying her face in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably.
I ran up the stairs and sat beside her, putting a comforting arm around her shaking shoulders.
“We are going to get him back,” I promised.
Valentina looked up at me, her eyes red and desperate.
“Before they left,” Valentina whispered, “Matteo dropped this on the floor. He told me to give it to his Uncle Luca.”
She reached into her robe pocket and pulled out a piece of folded notebook paper.
She handed it to Luca.
Luca unfolded it. I stood up and looked over his shoulder.
It was a child’s drawing. Done in thick crayon.
It showed a tall building with a giant clock on top. And underneath the clock, Matteo had drawn a picture of a silver pocket watch.
May you like
Luca’s breath hitched.
“I know where he is,” Luca said, his eyes burning with a terrifying, lethal fire.
