Mafiosa (Blood for Blood #3)(29)

I was also keenly aware that Principal Campbell was outside the door with her ear pressed up against the glass. She obviously had yet to be told that frosted glass is, in fact, still somewhat transparent.

‘Yes,’ I said, eyeing them both up. ‘Of course it’s a surprise.’ I lifted my chin and met their penetrative stares with my own. I had nothing to hide.

More or less.

‘We were sorry to hear about your mother,’ Medina said, flicking an affected glance at his partner. His eyes were softer, his stance a little more relaxed.

‘Is that why you’re here?’ I asked. ‘Because I told the detectives working the diner case that I don’t know any more than they do, and before you ask, no, I haven’t seen or heard from my uncle since it happened.’

Oh, and the next time I see him, I’ll be killing him. Kk?

Comisky shook his head, the movement bringing the faintest jiggle to his cheeks. ‘No, Ms Gracewell, that’s not why we’re here.’

I channelled Valentino and kept my features smooth.

‘Where are you staying, Sophie?’ Comisky asked, dispensing with the formalities. His big grey moustache was twitching in anticipation. Honestly, why do people grow moustaches in the first place? Do they set out to look like human terriers or does the look just sneak up on them?

‘With my friend,’ I said. ‘Until the guardianship paperwork gets sorted out. What with my uncle still being away …’ I shrugged, and then decided to try out the old puppy-dog-eyes routine to diminish my underlying aura of sarcasm.

Medina hunkered down until we were at eye level. I had the sudden urge to jump out the window and bolt all the way back to Evelina.

‘Ms Gracewell,’ he said carefully, ‘I am going to ask you a question now, and I want to make you very aware that if you don’t answer it one hundred per cent honestly, then you will be obstructing the course of justice and there will be consequences.’

My palms were starting to sweat. I pressed them together and tried to keep my movements very still. My brain was exploding with theories. I tried not to let it show. Did they know about Libero? Did they know what I was going to do on Saturday? Had the Falcones been arrested?

‘Are you listening, Sophie?’ Comisky asked, over Medina’s shoulder. He shoved himself away from the desk and plodded over to me. ‘Will you pay careful attention to what we’re saying?’ He looked like a very angry, very stout grandfather. But not the sweet kind. The I-drink-way-too-much-at-family-gatherings-and-shake-my-cane-at-children kind.

‘I’m listening.’ I tilted my head and fluttered my lashes, preparing my lie before I even knew what I would have to say. ‘Ask away.’

Medina shifted forward, his elbows finding purchase on his knees. ‘Sophie, do you know where your father is?’

‘Huh?’ I scrunched my nose. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Answer the question,’ he said.

‘That is my answer.’

Medina fell back on to his hunkers. He looked up at Comisky and another uneasy glance passed between them.

‘What’s going on? Where is my father?’

Medina stood up. ‘Sophie, your father was granted furlough from Stateville Correctional Center on Sunday morning for your mother’s remembrance ceremony.’

‘Yes.’ I could feel myself nodding, but all my immediate thoughts were wrapped up in what they were now attempting to tell me, and what I was praying wasn’t actually true. But I could feel it, sucking the ground out from underneath me, building and building, until it rolled back towards me like a tsunami.

‘And you were seen with him at the memorial service for your late mother,’ Comisky supplied.

Again, I said, ‘Yes.’

‘We know you two were in contact.’

‘The whole town knows. It’s not a secret.’

‘Do you know where he went after that ceremony?’ asked Medina.

‘Back to prison?’ I said. ‘Where he was supposed to go?’

Please say he went back to prison.

Please tell me this isn’t happening.

Medina’s lips disappeared, his mouth settling into a hard line. ‘No, Sophie. Your father didn’t go back to prison.’

‘He had an escort with him,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I saw him. He was there the whole time. My father was being monitored. He had a guard,’ I repeated, as if I could convince them.

‘Had being the operative word,’ said Medina. ‘That guard is now in hospital recovering from a severe concussion …’ He trailed off, expelling all the air in one long sigh, before adding, ‘Your father’s tracking bracelet has been deactivated, and your father is nowhere to be found.’

I gaped at them.

This was a joke. This had to be a joke.

‘We’ve been searching for him for several days,’ Comisky added.

‘And you’re only telling me this now?’ I said, more shrilly than I meant to.

Another shared glance. ‘The situation is delicate,’ said Medina. ‘We didn’t want to alert you until …’ He trailed off.

I narrowed my eyes at him. ‘Until you definitely couldn’t find him and you started to suspect my involvement, right?’

He nodded. ‘Something like that.’