Between the plaques, a ruby encased in silver had been inset into the stone. Protruding from the silver in swirling calligraphy were the letters F on one side, and E on the other. Beneath the ruby it said Sempre.
Luca brushed his fingers along the words, translating. ‘Always.’ And then in a quiet voice, he added, ‘Felice wanted to be interred next to his wife.’ He traced the ruby, reverentially, softly. ‘He engraved her tomb the day he engraved her ring. Every dime he ever earned went into those two rubies and then one of them went with her and it broke his heart.’
‘Where?’ I asked, looking for dates and failing to find them. She wasn’t dead. Yet.
‘She disappeared. She was eight months pregnant with their daughter, and one day she went out and never came back.’
‘Why?’ I asked, though in truth it was not hard to imagine. Felice was, after all, a terrible human being.
‘He’s never said.’ Luca shrugged. ‘He still believes she’ll come back to him some day.’
‘Do you?’
His mouth hardened into a thin line. It sharpened his cheekbones and the clean cut of his jaw. ‘He’s a fool.’
‘A romantic, maybe,’ I tempered, wondering at how bad things must have gotten for an eight-month-pregnant woman to walk out on her husband. Still, being married to a sociopath is no easy feat.
‘No,’ said Luca. ‘A fool.’
I got the sense the topic was closed. I let it be, thinking on Felice with fractionally more empathy than before. Emphasis on fractionally. I guess no one can be painted with just one brush. There is light and shade in all of us, pain and hardship, and some of us rise from it while others are darkened by it. Evelina, I thought, wherever you are, you are probably better off.
Luca sat down on the bench again, his legs stretched out and crossing at the ankles. He was watching me. ‘You’re pale.’
‘I’m always pale.’
‘You’re translucent.’
‘It’s the lighting.’
‘You can go now,’ he offered in what I assumed was his attempt at politeness. It needed work. ‘Millie will probably combust if you leave her out there any longer.’
‘How do you know Millie’s out there?’
His laugh was low and breathy. ‘You’re kidding, right? I could hear you coming from a mile off. You bring a whole new dimension to the word “unsubtle”.’
Why was I still stalling? I backed into the doorway, studying him the way he was studying me – unashamedly. But what was he looking for exactly? I watched the way he slumped his shoulders, the way his elbows balanced on his knees, how his dark brows cast shadows over his bright eyes. In that moment he looked exactly the way I had been feeling. Tired, defeated. Alone. Troubled. ‘Do you … spend a lot of time in here?’
He cocked his head. ‘Why? Are you worried about me?’
‘No!’ I practically shrieked.
‘Good. I’d hate to think you were going soft.’
‘Never.’ Well, that’s where giving a crap gets you. With as much haughtiness as I could muster I marched through the doorway, but something stopped me and I dug my heels in. I couldn’t help it; I had to know. I peeked around the doorway, curiosity bubbling up inside me.
He was still staring in my direction.
‘Why didn’t you ask me about my uncle?’
‘What?’
‘You didn’t ask me if I knew where Jack was. But you must be wondering. Especially, you know, after what happened.’
Without so much as blinking, he said, ‘I already know where he is.’
My jaw dropped. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Why didn’t you ask?’
I came back into the room, my energy spiking. ‘Where is he?’
‘Well, we don’t know exactly where he is yet. But we have a pretty good idea of who he’s with.’
‘Who?’
‘You better not go looking for him.’
‘Of course not,’ I lied.
‘You’re lying. It’s written all over your face.’
‘I’m not lying, I’m just stressed!’
Luca thought about it for a moment. ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ he asked, his voice half-sigh, half-frustration. ‘Where is the one place that Jack would go, the one place he would seek refuge from us?’
Oh. Oh. Well that explained the little history lesson earlier.
Luca watched the realization dawn. He pulled his lips back, revealing the feral tips of his canines. ‘And if he is there,’ he said, ‘if they are truly aiding and abetting a known Falcone enemy, then, once again, the truce is broken.’
‘Shit.’