Body of Trust - Jeannine Colette Page 0,15
hear about you going to work?” My mother is at the foot of the stairs as I walk down.
“I can’t call in sick.”
“Yes, you can. Your father left explicit instructions for everyone to stay here.”
“And where is he exactly?” I challenge her, letting the worry in her face twist into annoyance. Just like every other time I’ve asked, the answer is silence. “That’s what I thought.”
“You ask too many questions,” she counters.
“You don’t ask enough.”
I should have known better than to follow Jesse’s orders to come here. Without a purse, wallet, or phone, I took the only option given. I should have hitchhiked my way to my building and secluded myself in the confines of my own home.
“This isn’t like you. Since when do you not do as you’re asked? What am I supposed to say when your father calls?”
“That I went to work at the job he said he’s so proud of me for having. This means a lot to me. I can’t mess it up.”
“Your life means too much to me!” she states dramatically. “Imagine what I’ve been going through. First, I fear for your life. Then your father’s. Ten more minutes, and Gia and I would have been there. Our family is safe, and I plan on keeping it that way.”
I pause, dramatically and then ask, “Are you saying that you think Gia and I are in danger?”
She clutches the medallion around her neck and makes the sign of the cross in the air. “Heaven forbid. Of course not. Women and children are never involved in these matters. It’s code.”
“And what code might that be?” I challenge with a lift of my brow. Her lips purse and push to the side. I know more than she’s willing to tell me. I know those men weren’t there for me. They want my father and Uncle Frankie. “The farther I can get away from this hill, the safer I am.”
She leans back with a face of horror by my words. “You don’t feel safe in this home? We have cameras and a security system.” As I walk away from her, she follows me with an exasperated huff. “Do you know what kind of horrible things happen in those underground parking garages you use?”
“I’m driving to the bus stop and taking public transportation to the city like I do every day. No one’s going to whack me in broad daylight.”
“That’s not funny, Amelia.”
“I wasn’t trying to be.”
In the kitchen, I grab a piece of bread and place it in the toaster. My mother follows with her hand on her head. She hasn’t done her hair or makeup in days and has been sporting the same red velour jumpsuit since yesterday. For a woman who is trying her hardest to make it seem like the events of Friday night were merely an occurrence that shouldn’t be spoken of, her appearance shows it shook her. I just wish she’d let me in on what she knows.
The doorbell rings, and she jumps in surprise. “Who could that be?”
“Check the camera,” I suggest as my toast pops up from the toaster.
My mother shakes her hands in the air as she processes what I just told her to do. She takes her phone and opens the video app that connects to the alarm system. “It’s Sienna!” she says loudly with relief.
I barely have the butter on my bread before Sienna comes bursting into the kitchen.
“Why haven’t you called me?”
“No phone, remember? Plus, I’ve been instructed not to use the house line.” I look for the one thing I asked her to bring. “Do you have my purse?”
She waves a hand in the air, showing she has my bag that I left stranded at the bar at Villa Russo on Friday night. I look through it. My wallet and lip gloss are still inside, as is my phone, which is dead.
“This is crazy. Amelia, you should just take the day and sit with your family. Wait until your father calls,” my mom begs with her arms splayed out on the tiled countertop.
“Maybe when you explain to me why my purse was removed from Villa Russo before the police got there, so no one had proof I had been there? Or why it went to Uncle Frankie’s first before coming straight here?” I ask with an accusatory tone.
Sienna grabs the piece of toast from my plate and takes a bite before plopping in the kitchen table seat and speaking with her mouth full, clearly not hearing or