“Oh my god!” I said through tears. “Jesus, Dan! Dan.”
He rolled facedown on the floor, holding his head at the base of his neck. I looked at Antonio, who crouched with his elbows to his knees. I must have had a question written all over my face, because he answered it without me speaking.
“Blood’s flowing out of his brain. He’s got a headache you can’t imagine.”
“I’m going to kill them,” I said. “He could have died.”
“He still might, if there’s a blood clot. I never told you about my uncle.”
“Should he stand up?”
“I don’t think so. Give him a minute.” Antonio crouched on one knee, without jealousy or rage in his eyes, and slipped his fingers along my jaw. His touch was an embodiment of tenderness and strength, and though the facts remained, it helped me see through the tangle of my emotions.
I couldn’t just sit there. Zo was wiping down surfaces we’d touched. Antonio was hovering over Daniel to see if he would survive. I went into the kitchen and snapped open the door over the sink. He’d organized the cabinet the way I had when we lived together. His medicine was boxed by pain killers, cold and flu, skin care, etc., with a little plastic cup for water. I tapped out a headache pill for him. Four came out, I was shaking so hard.
When I’d said I wanted to kill whoever did this, I was serious. My feeling of bright white rage would only be relieved with the death of someone, or their howls of pain. Was that why Antonio felt he needed to right wrongs with murder? I got it. I really did. And if his life was cut short, I knew I would get myself killed avenging that death.
“Don’t fucking touch me,” Daniel said. He was on his back, hands over his eyes.
Antonio took his hand off Daniel’s arm just before I crouched down.
“Here,” I said, putting the pills in Daniel’s palm.
“This is so past anything I had in the cabinet.”
“I know.”
“Valentina,” he said. “Did you find her?”
Antonio and I exchanged a look.
“No, what happened?” I asked.
He groaned and tried to sit up, wobbled. I snatched a pillow from the couch and put it under his head. It was a bed pillow, I noticed, and the blanket was spread as if someone had slept on the couch the night before.
“They came in, Domenico Uvoli and another guy. I thought they were going to give me a hard time about the Bortolusi wedding, so I hid Valentina. But they were fixing this rig up, and she started screaming. They were really here for her. They kept asking… fuck. We have to get her.” Daniel wasn’t talking to me. He was talking to Antonio. “She went pale and fainted. She didn’t look right.”
“Not good. That’s not good,” Antonio said. He didn’t look alarmed as much as he looked as if he was controlling his unease. “You’re the DA. You should call the police.” His voice didn’t mock Daniel, but it had the weight of a rhetorical suggestion.
“I will. And in the time it takes me to explain it all, they’ll kill her.”
“What do you want me to do about it?” Antonio asked.
I didn’t know if he was seething because Daniel had stepped on his territory with me or with his wife, and I didn’t care.
“Antonio,” I growled. “It’s not the time for a pissing match.”
Behind me, Zo’s phone buzzed. Meekly, he reached into his pocket.
“They have you on speed dial, Lorenzo?” Antonio said.
“Your burner don’t hold a number or do shit, so… it’s on me.” He shrugged and answered then immediately gave the phone to Antonio.
He stood up, straightened himself, and spoke. “Pronto.”
Daniel stood, wavered, got his bearings.
“Signora. Buon giorno.”