Racing the Sun(37)

“Felisa is not here,” Annabella says. She’s standing down the hall and staring at the maid’s quarters, where Felisa sleeps. I walk to stand beside her and look.

The door is open and Felisa’s room is completely empty. The bed is made, tight enough to bounce quarters off the sheets, but the desk, the shelves—it’s all completely bare. It’s like she was never here.

“What the . . . ?” I step into the room. I open the closets. All her clothes are gone.

I turn around and eye the children. “Please tell me that Felisa existed and was a real person.”

They frown in unison.

I step away from the closets and open drawers, all empty. “Felisa was real, right?” I repeat, feeling like I’m going crazy.

“Yes, yes,” Alfonso says. “But she’s not here. Where did she go?”

“Is she coming back?” Annabella asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t know.” She could have gone away for the night, but it doesn’t explain why every single thing is gone, even her little Catholic crosses and funny porcelain doodads that she collected. A rosary and a framed picture of Alfonso and Annabella that were on the wall are also gone.

“I need to speak to your brother,” I tell them, grabbing their hands and leading them out into the hall. I close the door and we go into the kitchen. “Derio?” I call out. There is no answer. I look at the kids. “Why don’t you do what I said. Go get changed and then play on your iPads for a bit.”

They stare at me, not moving, wanting to be part of uncovering the mystery of the missing nanny.

“Go,” I say, pointing at the stairs. “I will figure this out and talk to your brother. Everything will be fine. I’m sure she’s coming back.”

Annabella shakes her head, looking down at the floor. “No. She won’t. She once said one day she will have to leave for good. Just like mama and papa did.”

Oh Jesus.

“I’ll bring you candy if you go to your rooms,” I tell them as a last resort.

Finally, they run off. I stand below and watch them climb the stairs and disappear into their rooms. I don’t really have any candy but I know there’s a tub of sorbet in the freezer that will have to do.

I inhale deeply, trying not to panic. Just because Felisa is gone doesn’t mean something horrible has happened. Derio has to be here, he wouldn’t just leave me alone in the house with the kids, would he? I mean, I’m not their nanny. Today was just a fun outing, not the start of something permanent.

Before I can freak myself out any more, I go to his office and knock on the door. “Derio?” I ask. I listen but don’t hear anything. “Hello, Derio? Where is Felisa?”

I wait. I know that Felisa had warned me to never knock twice, but fuck that noise. She’s not here right now anyway.

I knock again, louder this time. “Derio!”

I put my head against the door and listen. I think I can hear the tinkle of glass inside. Someone is definitely in there.

Against all orders, I put my hand on the knob and try to turn the door. It’s locked.

I bang on the door, trying to not alarm the kids. “Derio!” I jiggle the knob. Nothing.

This isn’t about to deter me. I head out to the back patio and peer inside the office. It’s dark except for the green glass lamp on his desk, the kind you see in old lawyers’ offices.

Derio is at the desk, slumped over.

I gasp and quickly knock on the glass to try to get his attention but he isn’t moving. I try to open the French doors but they’re also locked from the inside.

“Shit!” I swear and run off the patio and around the corner. I push my way through the brush, small palms whipping my face and stinging my sore shoulder as I burst through them. I end up by the dried-up fountain and the small courtyard at the other side of the office.

I try the doors there and they open so quickly I almost spill into the room.

“Derio!” I cry out, running over to him.

His head is buried in his arms and I can see the bottle of gin on the floor beside him. I push at his arms, and though it’s like pushing stone, I’m relieved when I see him move a little. He lets out a groan.

Now what?

I shake him. “Derio, it’s Amber. Where is Felisa?”

“Lasciami in pace,” he mumbles into the desk.

“Derio,” I say again. “Please.” I crouch down so I’m at his level. I run my hand through his hair. I don’t know why. To comfort him or comfort me. His hair is so thick and unimaginably soft and it’s entirely inappropriate that I’m doing this.

“Vattene!” he yells, flinching away from my touch. He seems to agree with the inappropriateness and glares up at me with angry red eyes until I yank my hand away. “Go away!”