“I’ll get straight to the point, Mr De Luca. We’re not here to see your flatmate. We’re here to see you.”
I swallow down a lump in my throat. “Okay.”
If that fuckwit Brett is pressing charges over our little scuffle in Nowra I’m gonna lose it. Particularly after that shit he pulled with Suds in Vegas. The bastard is lucky I haven’t tried to drive him into the ground like a fence post.
“Hit me with it,” I say and brace myself. It won’t help me to lose it in front of these guys. I can do that after they leave. That dipshit Brett will be complaining about more than a possible broken nose next time I see his face.
“Your younger brother Vinnie has been found dead,” the female cop says.
“Ah, what?” For a second there I thought she said …
“Your brother is dead. I’m very sorry for your loss.” She reaches out her hand and places it on my fingers, which are curled over my kneecap.
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Can my partner make you a coffee or a tea?” she asks.
As if on cue, the tall male officer stands and strides into the kitchen.
“Earlier today we were informed by Long Bail Jail that Vincent De Luca was found dead. Again, I’m sorry—”
“Um, what?”
“Is there anybody I can call for you?”
“No, but what you can do is tell me what the fuck happened,” I snarl.
“Long Bay informed us that he had been moved back from protection a few days ago. We’re treating the death as suspicious, and will be conducting a criminal investigation. As your brother died in custody, the coroner will be conducting an inquest.”
Holy fuck! Did my meddling do this?
“And you’re sure it’s him?”
“Yes, but for the purposes of formal identification we need you to accompany us to the morgue to identify the body.”
“When?” I blurt out.
“As soon as possible.”
I need to see this shit for myself. I won’t believe it until I see him.
It’s not him.
It’s not.
With the back of my hand, I wipe the wetness from my cheek. Harden the fuck up, De Luca. It’s not him. It’s some other fucker that’s been doin’ time. The jail has got him mixed up. Half the staff in that fucked-up place couldn’t find their own arse if you asked them to. They’d ask you to fill out a fucking form first.
I stand up and grab my wallet and keys, leaving the bench covered in the now dry and cracked pasta.
“Let’s go,” I say, as I hold the door open.
Both officers guide me down the stairs, one behind me and one in front. It’s as if they think I’m gonna do a runner or something.
The male cop opens the back door and ushers me into the back seat. Vinnie probably sat in a car just like this when they arrested him. He would have been shitting bricks.
This is some kind of warped dream. It has to be.
A life without my brother?
Nessuna famiglia. No family.
Where does that leave me?
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
SOPHIE
Second-last shift down, one to go. With each day that passes before I start my new job, the load is getting lighter. It’s fucking liberating.
Today I confirmed with the bank that Fuckface did in fact pay off a hundred grand, and later another instalment of fifty thousand after that, which pretty much covers it.
Part of me is relieved, but another part of me worries that he’ll return. He was adamant that he would get me back. One thing I know is that I’m holding my ground. He has to clear everything with the bank. I’ve done enough.
There are no free car spaces up close to the apartment this afternoon, so I park a way down the street. I pull up to the curb and jerk on the handbrake. Fuckface is a jerk. Thinking about him only stirs me up more. I have to be pro-active about this.
I dial Vicky’s number.
“Hey, Sophie. So good to hear from you,” she says in that effervescent tone I’ve come to take a liking to.
“You too, Vicky. Hey, I hope I’ve got you at a good time, but I was wondering if I could ask a favour? Feel free to say no.”
“Oooh, I’m intrigued. What can I do?”
“Do you know anything about bank loans?”
“I specialise in commercial contracts and finance, so absolutely.”
“If I email you some documents and the background, do you think you could help me out?”
“Has this got to do with the suit that took you for everything?”
She didn’t forget.
“Yeah, it does. He’s come out of the woodwork and now he’s paying off the debt because he wants me back, but I want rid of this debt before anything else. I need to know that the bank can’t come after me again.”
Vicky gasps. “You’re thinking about taking him back?”
“Not in a million, babe, but he doesn’t need to know that.”
“I’m at home today, so send the documents to my personal email. I’ll take a look at them and will get back in touch. If you agree, I can contact the bank on your behalf. Anything for a friend.”
My heart just melted a little. Another woman I’m lucky to have in my life. Seriously, who needs family with awesome mates like these?
“That’d be great. You’re the best, Vicky.”
“Anything I can do to help.”
I make the trek to my building, with my backpack strapped tight around me. I walk a little farther off the path from the road. Ain’t no madman on a bike gonna get me again. A light drizzle starts to leave a gentle imprint over the car bonnets and forms a shiny blanket over the perfectly groomed grass. The steady stream of peak-hour traffic zooms past.
A police car is parked in a no stopping zone near the main entrance. I wonder if someone else got robbed? Shit. I hope not. I pick up the pace, power-walking as I come within fifty metres of the vehicle.
A female cop exits the building first and gets into the driver’s side. A man dressed in black with tattoos up his arms walks out next.
Wait a sec. Is that Rocco?
A tall male cop escorts him into the back seat.
“Rocco?” I call out, as I jog towards them. When the brake lights come on, the car pulls away from the curb. My legs move of their own volition into a sprint. “Stop!”
The police vehicle zooms into the flow of traffic and travels north. What the hell is going on?
I unhook my bag and shakily dial his number as large raindrops fall on the screen. It rings and rings and then finally goes to voicemail.
‘This is De Luca. Leave me a message.’ His voice drawls in that bored tone.
Beep!
“Goddamn it, Rocco. Where are you? I just saw you leave the unit. Can you call me, please? Let me know what’s going on. Tell me what I can do.”
I disconnect the call and grip the phone tight in my hand. “Shit!” I curse to the sky, which is now teeming with rain. What is going on with him?
I ring Spencer.
“Yeah,” he says, almost breathless. I guarantee him and April have been making like bunnies again. In this moment, all it does is make me mad.
“Enough of the heavy breathing, already. Can you give me any logical reason as to why Rocco would be being placed in the back of a cop car and taken away?”
“Fuck. When did this happen?”
“He literally left a minute ago.”
“I’ll try and call him.”
“You can, but I’ve tried and he’s not answering. I’ll go up to the apartment and see if there’s any sign of what’s happened. Maybe he left me a note or something.”
“Good. I’ll keep trying him. I’ll get April to ring Mac and see if he knows anything.”
“Thanks. Keep me posted.”
“I will.”
There’s two cups of what look like coffee on the bench, which is scattered with flour and long strips of pasta. He was cooking when they came?
Clearly, he left in a hurry.