“I don’t want to talk later,” she mutters angrily. But I can feel her softening a little under my touch. Truth is, no matter how we get there, there’s something between us. She’s going to have a hard time ignoring that, no matter how hard she tries.
“You can decide that in the morning.” I give her a slight smile and leave her alone in the kitchen.
#
I find her in the kitchen again when I come back down for breakfast several hours later. I don’t think she’s been there all night, though; she’s got sheet marks on her face, so she must have spent some time in the guest bedroom, like I suggested.
“Morning,” I say, probably sounding too cheery.
She doesn’t look at me. Doesn’t even grunt to acknowledge me. I’m not going to have much time to talk this morning, since I have to get to Phil Spada’s place for our weekly meeting. There’ll be work for me—I’m sure Spada is lining up fights for next month, and I’ll have to get everything on my schedule and make sure I know who’s supposed to win what and who’s supposed to throw what and when.
“Okay,” I tell Sarah. “I have to get to work. You stay here and think things through. I’ll be back later, and we can hammer out the details.”
Her eyes flick up, her gaze burning. She’s still angry, but it’s more of a petulant anger, like she’s finally admitted to herself that I know what I’m talking about but doesn’t want to admit it to anyone else. She will, though, in time.
I head out—I’ll grab breakfast on the way. I figure there’s about a seventy-five percent chance she’ll still be there when I get back. I’m willing to take that risk.
#
The meeting’s just getting underway when I get to Spada’s place. I head for Spada’s office, taking my time up the hallway so I can finish my coffee.
Spada usually holds these weekly meetings in a sort of conference room next to his office. He’s got a big house—he can afford to have a conference room. I know he likes meeting at his house because he can control the surroundings. Not much chance of somebody eavesdropping or the rooms being bugged or some kind of police presence lurking around trying to get information from the next table over.
There’s a low rumble of voices coming from the room, and I pause outside the door. Just a couple swallows of coffee left, so I might as well get it done before I go in.
“Yeah, Sal hasn’t seen her since yesterday.”
I overhear the voice from inside the room and abruptly forget the coffee. I’d much rather hear what people are saying about Sarah. For a second I wonder if she’s safe where I left her.
“Nobody knows where she is?”
“Nobody, far as I know.” There’s a chuckle. “Except maybe Nick.”
“Nick? Nick Angelino?”
“Yeah. Somebody saw him leaving, too. Then his car was gone from the parking lot when we all left after the party was over.”
“When did he leave?”
“Right after Sarah ‘went to the bathroom.’”
I can tell by the way he says the words that he’s making air quotes. I decide this would be a good time to interrupt, and I enter the room, tossing my coffee cup in the trash can just inside the door.
“Nick,” Spada greets me. I wonder if he was paying attention to the gossip I overheard from outside the door. Probably. Not a lot escapes him, in spite of other flaws he might have.
“What’s up?” I ask, taking a seat.
Chris glances at the man next to him, then back at me. “Sarah Corelli’s missing.”
“Missing? Really?”
“Yeah. Nobody’s seen her since the engagement party.”
“That’s weird. Seems like she’d be happy. Be hanging out with Sal or something.”
Chris nods. “Yeah. Weird. You seen her?”
“No, I haven’t seen her.”
“All right, gentlemen. Enough gossip.” That’s Spada, taking control of the room. I look toward him, sitting at the other side of the table, and he meets my gaze. His eyes narrow a little.
I smile. Just a little. I can’t help it. But right away, I know it’s too much.
Spada, however, doesn’t react. He just shuffles his papers and gets the meeting underway. I pull out my phone and get ready to take notes.
#
Spada spews out a lot of information over the next hour or so. I dutifully take notes, but at the same time I’m sussing out the atmosphere in the room. There’s no overt hostility, but there’s definitely some unease among Spada’s men. I also catch quite a few glances speared in my direction. Somebody noticed too much after the party. Not a surprise, really. We’re all naturally paranoid, always watching our backs. If one person noticed me with Sarah, it’d only be a matter of hours before everybody heard about it. I’m more surprised that nobody’s confronted me directly.