Luca fastens his pants and adjusts his suit jacket.
“Please be happy,” he says and his voice is choked. He bends and brushes a soft kiss on my forehead. I fight back tears as I nod, unable to speak and he wrenches his gaze from mine. He leaves and doesn’t look back.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I don’t remember walking through the church or the bus ride home. Everything is a blur as my emotions numb my body and my heart. I feel like I’m in shock and I probably am.
I get off the bus down the road from my house and walk the rest of the way, one foot in front of the other. When I get to the house, I find that I don’t want to go in.
But I also don’t want to go to Marianne’s. I don’t really want company. Instead, I walk along the beach for a while, my shoes in my hand. I sit on the sand and stare at the water, burying my toes in the white beach, trying to ignore the pain in my heart.
No one dies from heartbreak, I remind myself. I should know. I lived through it years ago.
I honestly don’t know how long I sit like this, zoned out and staring at the water. But eventually, after an hour or two, I grow cold. I walk back to my cottage and make my way up the path to my door. As I do, I see something propped against it.
An envelope.
Curiously, I pick it up and take it inside so I can see it in the light.
It’s from the lab where I sent Luca’s blood-work.
I rip it open and pull it out, my hands shaking in anticipation. And then I almost drop the paper.
The chemical components of his blood are all normal. But that’s not the interesting part.
On a whim, I had decided to have his blood tested for drugs. And it is positive for several things. Enough things, actually, that the lab manager compiled a letter to accompany the results, explaining what the poisonous components likely are.
There is heavy evidence of recent use of Rohypnol, more commonly known as the Date Rape drug. Trace components of Angel’s Trumpet are there too, a strong hallucinogen that is known to put a person in a zombie-like state, able to function but unable to remember it afterward.
He was drugged.
My breathing is coming in pants now as I finish reading.
There is a presence of several other naturally growing herbs, all of which are known to cause violence and aggression when used in excess. I stare at the incriminating words on the white page, so astounded that they practically blur together.
Luca has been poisoned.
I sink to the floor as I ponder what this means. Is he not cursed at all? There is no strange, dark affliction, only drugging? I know that he didn’t do this to himself. He wouldn’t. These poisons are very, very dangerous and in fact, Angel’s Trumpet is highly fatal. Since only a trace is found in his blood, whoever has been drugging him is skilled. They know what to give him to produce exactly the reactions that they want to see without lethally overdosing him.
Who has access to him? Who would do this to him?
Adrian.
My heart pounds heavily in my chest as his name and face spill into my mind, although I don’t know why he would do it. He’s the only one who has round the clock access to Luca. He’s the only one that Luca trusts completely and absolutely.
He’s like a brother to me, Adrian had said. I fell for it. Luca fell for it. Everyone fell for it because Adrian carries it off perfectly. He is perfectly charming, perfectly friendly. He’s very skilled at portraying that image.
I can’t breathe now.
Luca is about to leave on an isolated trip with Adrian.
Tonight.
I pull out my cell phone with shaking hands and dial his number.
No answer.
I leave a voicemail and try again.
No answer, so I leave another frantic voicemail.
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
Oh my god.
Without thinking, I run out the back doors and down the path to the beach and then I’m flying as fast as my legs will take me toward Chessarae.
I am not a runner, so I don’t know how I even make it without hyperventilating, but I do. I keep going because I know that since Luca runs this route, it is possible. I keep going because I have to. I race along the beaches, trails and roads until I reach the front doors of Chessarae. I ring the bell, then double over, trying to catch my breath.
Christoph answers and he studies me curiously as I struggle to breathe.
“Luca,” I manage to get out. “Can I see Luca?”
Christoph smiles apologetically.
“I’m so sorry, miss,” he tells me. “Luca has left for a trip. Can I help you with something?”
It is several more minutes before I am able to breathe well enough to partially explain who I am, who I am to Luca, and why I am here right now. By the time I am finished, Christoph’s tanned face has leached of color and he is as pale as paper.
“Come in,” he tells me, ushering me through the house to Luca’s study. He settles me into a chair, hands me a bottle of water and then leaves.
“I’ll be right back,” he tells me over his shoulder. He returns scant moments later with Damien, his older brother.
Damien looks so much like Luca that it takes my breath away when he walks through the door. He introduces himself and I re-tell everything that I’ve just explained to Christoph. When I am finished, Damien is the same pale shade of white.
“This can’t be,” he mumbles. He shakes his head and pours himself a Scotch, then one for Christoph and me.
“Why would he do it?” I ask as I gulp at it. I can hear Christoph on his phone. I don’t know who he is talking to, but he’s requesting boats. Fast ones.
A search expedition.
“We can’t call the police,” I tell Damien. “We can’t.”
Because we can’t have them investigating Luca’s involvement in the girls’ murders.
Even though I don’t want to think that way, I have to protect Luca. He wasn’t himself when he blacked out, but I’m not sure that a court would believe that. I’m not familiar with Maltese law at all. I don’t know if they have a temporary insanity plea and I don’t want to chance it right now.
“Don’t worry,” Damien tells me. “We have extensive resources. We’ll handle it ourselves. We’ll find him.”
“Why would Adrian do this?” I ask, my heart still numb.
“I don’t know,” Damien admits. “I just don’t know.”
“Luca told me that the Leopoldos have always worked for your family,” I say. “How far back?”
Damien thinks on that and Christoph pipes up from behind him.
“Generations,” he says. “Generations ago, our great-great-great grandfathers started our shipping business together. It was known as Leopoldo-Minaldi Shipping back then. But apparently, Enzo Leopoldo had a really bad gambling problem. He lost everything he had and Lucien Minaldi- which incidentally, is who Luca is named for, bought out his shares. That’s the story, anyway. Apparently, they had a deal that the Minaldis would always employ the Leopoldos. As the years passed, they began to work for us here at Chessarae rather than at the business.”
“But if you’ve always taken care of them, why would Adrian turn on you?” I ask, still confused. “But more importantly, the curse didn’t begin with Luca. Luca told me that it has gone on for generations.”
“Yes,” Damien said. “It began with Lucien.”
Christoph looks at Damien and I. “Did it begin before or after we bought out the Leopoldos?”
Damien is quiet. “I believe it was after, if the stories are correct. When Lucien was younger, it never happened to him. That’s why it was such a mystery. The doctors could not figure it out.”
We all suck in our breath.
Can it be a coincidence? Or has this been an elaborate, horrible act of revenge that has spanned generations?
“If that’s the reason, the Leopoldos have some issues of their own,” I point out unnecessarily. “Perhaps bi-polarism runs in their f
amily or schizophrenia. Either way, this is almost too elaborate to be real.”
Damien looks at me.
“This isn’t America, Dr. Talbot. Here in Malta, our pride is very valuable. It’s completely plausible that Enzo Leopoldo was so humiliated by the whole affair that he plotted out ways to lash out at us because he blamed us for his shame. I can see it happening, actually. There have been a few times over the years, when I’ve heard Adrian and even his father, slip and say something derogatory about our family. And as you’ve said, we’ve never done anything but take care of them. Enzo Leopoldo’s gambling problem was his own. Did Lucien take advantage of the situation by buying them out? Perhaps, but if he hadn’t, someone outside of the family would have and that was not an option for us.”
“Adrian has always seemed so happy to me,” I say absently. “I certainly misjudged him.” And that doesn’t say a lot for my thesis project which I’ve already sent to America…but that is not important right now.
“How long will it take for your boats to find them?” I ask Damien. He shakes his head.
“I don’t know. We don’t really even know where they were going. But we know how long they’ve been gone, so we’re sending boats into every conceivable direction.”
“Do you mind if I stay?” I ask. “I’m never going to sleep until he’s found and safe, anyway.”
“Of course,” Damien answers cordially. He hands me another Scotch. “I assumed that you would. It will be nice to have you here when Luca returns anyway. It will be helpful to have a professional explain what we think has happened.”
That’s a good thought. After a lifetime of believing he is a monster, it is hard to say how Luca will process the revelation that he isn’t. That none of the Minaldis have ever been… that his best friend in the world has betrayed him his entire life.
It’s an inconceivable thought and it would be difficult for anyone to handle.
I settle into a leather chair and cover up with a blanket that Christoph brings me. The only thing we can do now is wait. I take another sip of Scotch, allowing it to burn my throat on the way down. Grendel pads quietly into the room and sits at my side. I’m surprised, but it seems fitting. Luca’s dog is waiting for him, too.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Luca
The sea is a lonely place. I had forgotten how much so and we’ve only been sailing for three hours. My melancholy is already laughable.
“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” Adrian calls from where he is sprawled on the starboard side. “Being out here indefinitely without any female company whatsoever? It’s inhumane, Luca. I deserve a raise.” He laughs and props his feet on cushioned seat. “But it is beautiful out here. That’s a plus.”
“You’re a good friend, Adrian,” I tell him. “You do deserve a raise. Think of how many women you can charm when you have more money to spend.” I smile even though my heart isn’t in it. My heart is with a beautiful red-headed doctor. I push the thoughts away.
“True,” he answers good-naturedly. “And we’ve got a nice supply of Scotch, and that’s what is really important, no?”
I nod. “If only we had a cell signal, it would be perfect,” I tell him.
Adrian agrees. “The satellite phone should be up and running soon. I spoke with the company right before we set sail. They assured me that they were working on the problem.”
“It makes me slightly uncomfortable being out here without a phone,” I admit to him. “I know we have a radio and I realize that sailors have sailed for hundreds of years without cell phones, but still.”
Adrian laughs. “Pansy.”
“If by pansy, you mean that I’m accustomed to the comforts that the twenty-first century has to offer, then yes. I guess I am,” I banter back. Idle conversation with him is helpful for me. It keeps my mind off of her. Off of my heart, which vacillates between being numb and broken.
Jesus. My own thoughts are making me sick. Maybe I am a pansy.
And I have a fucking headache.
“I’m going below for more Scotch,” I tell him. “Do you need anything?”
“Not unless you find a gorgeous blonde down there,” he answers back lazily, his eyes already closing. “If you do, send her my way.”
I shake my head as I walk down the steps that lead to the living quarters below. This sailboat is large, and it houses two small bedrooms, a galley area and a bathroom below. I poke through the bathroom cabinet to find aspirin and come up empty-handed. I don’t have any in my bags either.
Son of a bitch. My head is throbbing. I blame it on the emotional toll of the day, which would have given anyone a headache.
I duck into Adrian’s room. He’s always prepared. I know he will have painkillers in here. He’s very accustomed to hangovers.
His room is neat, almost Spartan. He has already put away his things and I quickly rifle through his toiletries, hunting for what I need.
What I find, though, is not aspirin.
My fingers stumble upon a leather bag. It looks like a toiletry bag, so I open it. And inside, I find several clear bottles. One contains a black thick liquid and is capped with a dropper. The other two contain clear liquid. They also are topped with droppers.
Interesting.
But not surprising. I’ve long suspected Adrian of using recreational drugs. It’s just something that goes along with his carefree and adventurous personality. But to bring them on the boat when it might incriminate me in case of a border check is annoying and I’ll have to speak to him about it.
“What the fuck are you doing in my room?” Adrian snaps.
I look up, his bag still in my hands.
His face is hard and rigid and I am surprised by the tone of his voice.
“I’m hunting for aspirin,” I snap back. “But this is my boat, so technically, all of the rooms are mine. What’s with the attitude? Afraid I’ll find your little stash here? What are you thinking? I don’t want the kind of bad press that would come from a drug sting.”
I toss the bag back onto his bed. “You need to get rid of it. In fact, I’ll get rid of it.”
I snatch it up again, then push past Adrian to go up on deck. He clenches his jaw so tightly that I can practically hear his teeth grind as I pass.
I am halfway up the stairs before there is a sharp pain in the back of my head and everything goes black.
* * *
“Why did you have to snoop?”
I hear Adrian’s voice, but it is as though it is through a fog.
Did I black out again? I think harder, trying to focus.
I did. But it wasn’t from my curse. I was hit in the head. And there was only one other person on this boat.
I open my eyes and the light in the room is blinding. Unnaturally blinding.
I’ve got a concussion. That much is clear. My wrists are bound to the back of a chair. I wiggle them, but the knots are tight.
“What happened?” I ask, even though I already know. For some confusing reason, Adrian hit me and bound me while I was unconscious. The problem is, I don’t know why. Has he sold me out to someone? Has he kidnapped me for ransom? Nothing makes sense.
“You were being rude,” Adrian snaps. “You were going through someone else’s things. We were taught better than that, Luca.”
“Adrian, I don’t understand what is happening,” I tell him. And I don’t. He laughs, finding my confusion funny.
“I’m a fuck up, that’s what,” he says, his face growing serious. “I’m the first one in my family to fuck this up. My father would be so fucking proud.” He’s sarcastic now and I still don’t know what he is saying.
“You fucked what up?”
I struggle to keep my eyes open, but the light is so bright that it hurts.
“This, you fucking idiot.” Adrian shoves my shoulder hard, hard enough that the chair I’m sitting in flips over on its side. Since I am bound, I can’t right it. I struggle with it for a moment, then lie still. Adrian laughs.
“Look at you now,” he sneers. “The great Luca Minaldi tied on the floor like a trussed up hog for slaughter. Your father would be so proud.”
I am silent now, my confusion growing by the second, but I know that Adrian isn’t going to enlighten me. I’ll simply have to wait. My silence annoys him and he tries to bait me, but I ignore it. He kicks my chair in agitation.
“You’ve always thought you were better than me,” he snaps. “And you never were. It was all in your head. And the funny thing is, Mr. So Fucking Holier Than Thou, is that everything else in your head, I put there. I put there. So where’s your fucking arrogance now?”
My eyes open.
“What do you mean you put things in my head?”
Adrian eyes me. “Exactly what I said. I put everything in your head that is there right now. You’ve been tormented for years… by thoughts that I’ve planted there. By things that I’ve told you that you’ve done. By things that I’ve made it appear that you’ve done. But it was always me, Luca. Always. Me.”
He sees the confusion on my face and laughs.
“You always thought you were so smart,” he snickers. “You thought you had to tutor poor dumb Adrian so that he didn’t fail Algebra. Yet poor dumb Adrian was making you think you were a monster, that you were trying to kill innocent things, that you were cursed… and you never were. You never were, Luca! Who’s dumb now?”
His words stun me but his maniacal laughter shocks me even more. Adrian has lost it.
“That can’t be true,” I argue. “My entire family is cursed. My father, my grandfather…”
Adrian looks at me patronizingly. “And who has always worked for your family? My father? My grandfather?” He laughs again. “I have poisoned you and lied to you, Luca. Just as my father and grandfather before me. And theirs before them. It was the poison that made you violent. It was the poison that took your memory. It was me who fed you lies. Poor, dumb Luca.”
Shock slams into my chest and fury turns my vision red.