Rushed(96)

"And we have to come up with a reasonable explanation why I'm spending so much time with you," Luisa said with a slight blush. "I mean, I’m supposed to be a bitch to you, remember?"

"You still can be," I replied lightly. "We just know that things have changed between us, haven't they?"

She and I hadn't really talked much about that portion of our lives, perhaps out of the knowledge that regardless of what we felt, the obstacles that we might have to overcome were depressing. So, if we wanted to be friends—friends with occasional benefits, or maybe something more—it didn't really matter. We'd just have to let that go for now.

"I'm sure we can figure something out,” Luisa said after a moment. There wasn't much else to say, and she poured herself another glass of orange juice.

We finished breakfast, and I wiped my hand across my stubbly chin. "I know what I want to do first," I said as I struggled to my feet. "I need to take a bath and shave. I'm going to miss showers for the next few weeks, at least until I can keep my balance standing on one foot."





Chapter 12





Luisa





"It's the only place on the property where Dad would be willing to keep it," Tomasso explained as he stumped along on his crutches to his father’s study. "There are more than a few layers of security, both physical and electronic. When your house is on the police's top ten list of places they want to raid, you have to have precautions."

I nodded and pointedly turned my back while Tomasso pulled up the the system. "Only a member of the Bertoli family knows exactly how to get in here," Tomasso explained. Okay, I'm in. You can turn around, and thanks."

I smiled and came around the desk, where a flat panel monitor showed the security camera footage interface. "We're lucky. This stuff is supposed to be blanked and recorded over on a weekly basis. There's keeping tabs, and then there is just idiocy.”

I nodded and pointed with my chin to the monitor. "So how do you use this thing?"

"Well, we start with a date and time search," Tomasso said, typing in the date of the accident. "Since I'm not sure what time we had our fight, I'll start it from when I got up. I remember glancing at the clock around then, and I went to get some food and to try and talk to you soon after that."

I watched as the screen split into four parts, which would then rotate among different cameras. "How many security cameras are there on the property anyway?"

"Twelve," Tomasso said offhand. "And no, there are none in the bedrooms or the showers. Ah, here I am!"

I saw as Tomasso on screen came out of his room, walking casually but with still noticeable exhaustion out of his room. "Man, look how easy that was just a few days ago," he noted, sighing. "Think I'll ever walk that easily again?"

"Yes. If you don't, I'm going to come back from Brazil and kick your ass so hard you’ll have to run away," I teased, ruffling his hair. "Don't think I won't. Especially as our fathers seem to be moving closer to a business relationship."

"That’s a good thing," Tomasso said. "Now, as for this . . .”

I looked as the video, which was playing in double time, continued. Tomasso on screen came into the dining room, where I'd been stewing over my cup of coffee. While there was no sound, it was clear that I was in a foul mood, and I got out of my chair, storming off and leaving him scrambling after me. "Yes, that is not my finest hour. I will admit that."

"Okay, here's what we're looking for," Tomasso continued. He paused the video as on screen, I was getting into the Fiat that I had borrowed, and he pulled up four of the cameras. "Now, these four are the ones that are of areas that had a view of the driveway, inside and out. Hold on—let's see what we can find."

He slowed the video down to normal speed, his eyes scanning the four screens. "Okay, in camera one, that's just the gardener. He always wears those things over his ears while he’s mowing. We could’ve been doing a Bollywood dance number and he wouldn't have noticed."

"What's camera three?" I said, pointing. "Who's that?"

"Hmm . . . that's Jessie," Tomasso said. "You met her, the maid? That would be the main library. She's not really looking out the window though."

The other two videos were empty, and we sat back after five minutes, sighing. “Well, that's a bust."

"Those two certainly didn't do anything, and the other cameras were blank. Now comes the hard part," Tomasso said. "We've got to watch the other eight."

I looked around and saw a note pad and pen, scribbling down Jesus and Jessie, though they seemed to clearly be innocent. "I hope your reading is good, because my handwriting isn't."

“I’ve seen worse," Tomasso replied after checking it out. "Like mine. Anyway, let's start with four more."

The next four cameras had nothing, although we added another name to the list in Pietro Marconi. Finally, in the last four, I saw something, a blond head that looked familiar. "Is that your friend, Jake?"

He rewound the video, pulling up just the one camera. In it, a man in a suit came around a corner, taking a phone out of his pocket before placing a call. He talked for about thirty seconds, then put the phone back in his pocket.