A Thousand Tombs (18 page)

Gen packed light. A couple pairs of cotton knit pants, socks, t-shirts to wear and to sleep in, a light jacket, a sweatshirt, and her trainers. She figured they wouldn’t be going out to eat so she wouldn’t need much else.

She decided to stop at the Bay Street Mall in Emeryville on the way and pick up a few books for Luca at Barnes & Noble. A peace offering. The idea sent her humming around the condo and made her rummage through the wine rack for a bottle of cabernet she’d been saving.

She left the city early in the afternoon to beat the Friday commuter traffic that often clogged the bridge. Mack said the fridge was stocked with everything they would need. He was working a case that had already taken him to East Bay, and he promised to be at the house by five. Five-thirty at the latest, he’d said.

The mall was teeming with teenagers who apparently didn’t have to attend school the long hours she’d been required to when she was their age. They spilled out of Gap and Banana Republic and Forever 21 and other trendy stores, and enough of them had crowded into Victoria’s Secret that she worried they were starting down that path just a little too young.

Her mother’s face popped into her head but she shunted it away, not wanting to review the lectures she’d been given. Gen and her sister hadn’t listened, so why should these girls.

And when had she turned into such a prude?

She tucked the bag of books beneath her arm and left the store, headed for the parking lot. While she walked, her thoughts scorched from Mack to the fact that she was staying in the country for two days and really looking forward to it.

The news would be a shock to almost anyone who knew her.

It was the sign for Caffe Duetto across the concourse that segued her thoughts to Italians and vendettas and coins. From there she meandered to Luca and how he was involved, then to a vision of him weeding Mack’s corn. And then she found herself considering the garage the day Mack had showed her around his sculpture workshop.

That’s what the human mind does, it loops together odd but somehow related memory strings. Gen had read somewhere that people entertain as many as seventy thousand thoughts a day. That amounted to fifty per minute, just under one every single second.

By the time she was back on the freeway she was thinking of Jimmy’s Camaro stored away under that tarp, and Mack’s offer to take her out for a drive in it, and at the same moment she noticed she’d taken the wrong ramp and was headed in the opposite direction from her destination.

She was thinking she’d need to take the next off ramp and get back on course, then her thoughts jumped back to Jimmy and she wished she could have known him.

That was when she saw the car.

She realized later that she probably wouldn’t have paid any attention if she hadn’t just been considering the Camaro’s important place in Mack’s world, parked there in his garage. It was serendipity. That’s how the gurus say we can draw what we want into our lives, just by conjuring up the image in our minds.

Apparently it worked.

One lane over and half a dozen cars ahead, there was a red Camaro. She’d have to try this positive visualization thing more often.

The classic was low to the road, with big beefy tires and an attitude to match. Gen gave the BMW some gas and approached the other vehicle, then hung back off its passenger side. For a flash she thought it might actually be Mack, driving the macho mobile that day instead of his truck.

But the chances of that were slim because he was on the job, and surely more than one cherry-hued Camaro traveled through East Bay. She brushed off the possibility and enjoyed the sighting as one of those happy coincidences that zip into your life when you least expect it.

Gen pegged its speed as they drove south, admiring the cool ride. She was thinking what a kick Mack would get out of the story when she told him about it tonight. But the driver turned his head just a skosh to check traffic to the side, and reality chased the glee away and left a chill in its place.

Damn. It
was
Mack’s car.

And that was Luca behind the wheel.

Gen was livid. The kid had crossed the line now, stealing a cherished vehicle from someone who’d been nothing but accommodating. Mack had plucked him off the street and given him a bed. He’d bought the boy new clothes, for heaven’s sake. He’d fed him, he’d kept him safe.

She amplified her pissed-off state with a review of everything Mackenzie Hackett had done to save the ungrateful boy’s ass, and ended by ticking off all the things he’d done not to deserve it. By the time the Camaro’s right blinker went on and he moved in front of her, she was prepared to give him more than just a piece of her mind.

His joy ride was about to end.

When Luca eased over one more lane, Gen saw the
exit only
sign in plenty of time to drop back and trail him down the ramp. She grabbed an old ball cap from the passenger seat, then pulled her hair out through the keyhole in the back and tugged the hat down low over her sunglasses.

Black BMWs were as common as pennies in this part of the world, so although she was mindful to maintain her distance, she wasn’t concerned Luca might think the car tooling along behind him belonged to her.

When they got wherever he was going, she’d call Mack and ask him what he wanted to do. After she ripped the kid a new one.

The Camaro hesitated at the intersection. Right, left, or across the street and back onto the freeway, those were the only options. But Luca seemed unsure, and idled for thirty seconds or so just short of the
stop
sign. He finally nosed the car to the right and merged into westbound traffic.

It wasn’t long before the scenery changed from strip malls to seedy commercial. It was as if they’d entered the land of the sprawling warehouse, and most of them looked deserted. A broken window yawned here and there, and she almost expected a tumbleweed or two to complete the ambience.

Lucky for her, there was just enough activity on the semi-deserted streets to keep him from being suspicious about the car pacing him two blocks back.

Where was the kid going?

The Camaro slowed, then stopped in the middle of the street. Gen angled to the curb and pulled out her phone. She was thumbing in Mack’s cell when he turned into the complex. She cancelled the call and tucked her phone into a pocket, then hid her purse beneath the passenger seat and climbed out of the car.

Luca had disappeared between the buildings by the time she’d sprinted up to where he’d turned. She looked around, trying to figure out why he had come here.

Each building in the group was two-story, with banks of big windows on the top level, the kind that jutted out at the bottom and into the room at the top when they were open. It reminded her of a 1950’s high school. She could imagine a sea of faces sneaking a peek at the sunshine outside when they should have been staring at the chalk board.

She stopped at the end of the wall and rolled her head around it.

A substantial parking lot anchored the interior, ringed by buildings identical to the one she was leaning against right now. The tarmac was pitted and old. White lines that once delineated each parking space were faded, almost nonexistent. The owner was not defying the trend in the rest of the neighborhood.

Litter fluttered across the lot and piled up against a cement block enclosure that housed enormous rolling trash bins. And the Camaro was there, parked in the shade of a gnarled old tree.

Gen headed for the car, assuming the boy was still behind the wheel. But as she approached she could see it was empty. Luca was hunched down by the end of the rubbish fort’s wall.

He was watching something.

She hung back to see what he would do, which was exactly nothing. It didn’t take long to decide she’d had enough.

Without a sound, she crept forward and snagged his shoulder, then pulled him to his feet and swung him around to face her. She had to look up to glare in his face.

“You little shit,” she hissed. “Do you even have a driver’s license?”

His eyes were huge. “Genny, I–”

“Cripes, Luca, do you know how much Mack loves that car? It belonged to his brother. If something happened to it, he’d be devastated. Why did you take it? How could you pay him back by stealing something he loves?”

“I had to–”

“Don’t you dare give me some lame-ass excuse.”

Luca grabbed her forearm and squeezed so tight it hurt. But it got her attention and made her shut up, and apparently that was the goal. He put a finger across his lips as she tried to wrench away, then pointed to the nearby building.

Gen relaxed and turned her head. And that’s when Carla came outside, stuck to Luciano like plastic wrap to a piece of cake.

Then they locked lips.

Gen had to admit she was surprised. Luciano had given her the impression he was immune to Carla’s charms. And considering Carla’s behavior with Mack, she’d figured the woman was flying solo. But females like her came on to everyone and everything, so in retrospect she probably should have expected it.

It was no big deal, really. If she’d been Mack’s partner it would have been impossible for her to keep her hands off him forever. And she could certainly understand the attraction. Luciano was a looker, too.

It took Gen a minute to pass from the novelty of them as a couple to curiosity about why they were here, and why Luca was watching. And how, if he’d been following them while she was following Luca, the Carabinieri hadn’t noticed their cherry-red tail.

Maybe they were too busy staring into each other’s eyes.

Gen turned away from the PDA and back to Luca, then marched him five steps in reverse until they were completely obscured behind the wall.

“Why are you watching the Italian cops?” she whispered.

He bit his lip, thinking so hard Gen could envision the wheels turning in his brain.

“The truth,” she said.

The kid sucked in about a football field’s worth of air. “Are you going to let me talk, or are you going to keep cutting me off?”

“Talk.”

“They took my grandma. They told Grandpa they were going to keep her until he gave them the coins. He didn’t tell me what happened at first, he thought he could handle it by himself. He wanted me out of it. When he found out Mack was a cop, he said it was the best place for me and that I should stay put.”

“Your Grandpa?” Oh. My. God. She’d been blind. Gen wondered how she could call herself an investigator. Vitelli was Luca’s grandfather.

“Yeah. I couldn’t tell you, I just couldn’t. He didn’t think these people would try anything while I was with Mack, because they wouldn’t want the police more involved than they already are. I kept asking to talk to Grandma and he made excuses, but I could tell he was worried. Yesterday I threatened to come out there, and he finally told me the truth.”

Damn.

The whole scenario began to wash over her like someone had finally drawn her a picture. Mrs. Vitelli
had
been taken in exchange for the coins. Luca
was
protecting Vitelli, as Mack suspected, because the old man was his granddad. What he was saying made perfect sense; better late than never.

“So why did you follow them?” She hitched a thumb in Carla and Luciano’s direction.

Luca’s words were tumbling out now. “I knew she must have something to do with it because I’ve seen her watching Mack’s. Twice I saw her, during the daytime while Mack was at work. I hid behind the curtains, haven’t gone outside or anything, so I don’t think she knew I was there. Today she came again. I know where Mack kept the keys, so I took the car and followed her here. I need to find Grandma before they hurt her.”

Now what?

“Luca, I’m not going to ask a lot of questions. It’ll all come out soon enough.” She took out her cell. “But you made a mistake, not confiding in Mack. This whole thing could have been over by now. You and your grandma could have been home in North Beach.”

“Grandpa’s smart, Genny. He asked me to trust him, and I do. So I did what he asked.”

Gen shook her head and kicked at a discarded candy wrapper sliding by on the tarmac. She needed to put some distance between herself and the boy, so she walked to the edge of the wall again and peeked around, just in time to see Rudy Giampaolino walk out the same door that Carla and Giovanni had recently exited. He sauntered toward the couple.

Okay, so that wasn’t a stunner. The Carabinieri were corrupt. They must be playing both sides, the age-old story of cops gone bad. Vitelli had been calling Italy to check on them. He knew, or he suspected. And Giampaolino was working for the Italian cops.

How could she be so ignorant?

She scooted out of sight and leaned against the wall, then thumbed in Mack’s number and held the phone to her ear. It rang four times and went to voice mail.

She’d just opened her mouth to leave a message when Rudy reached around the corner and grabbed her cell, then threw it down on the asphalt. He smashed it to pieces with his heel.

Luca slammed open the driver’s side door of the Camaro and yelled for her to get in the car. He ground the starter once, twice, trying to get the engine to turn, but it defied him. Gen launched herself off the wall and scrabbled for the handle on the passenger door, but Rudy grabbed her hair and began to reel her in.

Luca was still grinding the starter, unable to get the engine to turn. He gave up and darted out, watching with horror as she struggled to keep Giampaolino’s free hand from circling her waist.

“Run!” she screamed. “Call Mack!”

And without a backward glance he was gone, rabbitting across the parking lot. His fists were clenched and his legs pumped like pistons, just like that night outside Tosca.

“Gio, get the boy,” Rudy bellowed.

But Gen didn’t have time to worry about Luca.

Her attention was focused on Rudy.

Giampaolino was trying to wind her hair around his hand to get a better grip. She thought of Rick, and pivoted to the right as much as she could, then jabbed her elbow repeatedly up and back, making contact with his face until she heard a good crack and figured she’d broken his nose.

He cursed and let go. The minute he released her she lunged away. But the big man was fast; he grabbed her arm and snaked a hand out to encircle her waist again and drag her back.

She raised a foot, kicked fiercely, and caught his knee. Rudy cried out, accompanied by a growl of pain. She kicked again. He cried out again, screaming in enraged Italian, but didn’t let her go.

Gen changed tactics and bent back the index finger of the hand clutching her belly. He slammed a fist into the back of her head and she nearly fainted, but she took the punishing blow and didn’t stop until she heard his finger break.

He wrenched his hands away and began to sob, and she knifed her elbow back into his throat, and again, and one last time, just because she could. Then she ran as if a pack of hounds was on her tail.