Chapter 3 - The Phone in the Suitcase
The ringtone played again.
Helena’s voice filled the chapel.
“Pick up, sweetheart. Don’t make your mother chase you.”
Emilio stopped moving.
That had been his mother’s custom ringtone on his old phone years ago.
Clarissa lunged for the suitcase.
Marco caught the handle first.
“Move,” she snapped.
“No.”
Emilio looked at her. “What phone is that?”
“I don’t know.”
“It’s in your bag.”
“I said I don’t know.”
Giovanni unzipped the suitcase.
Clarissa slapped his hand away.
Marco immediately caught her wrist.
“Take your hand off me!”
“Then keep yours off him.”
Giovanni opened the case.
Silk dresses. Sandals. A straw hat. A bottle of perfume.
Then Marco lifted a false fabric panel near the bottom.
Under it sat a black prepaid phone, three passports, and two stacks of cash wrapped in plastic.
Emilio stared.
One passport carried Clarissa’s photograph under the name CLAIRE SANTOS.
Another used the name CLARISSA REYES.
The third had Emilio’s photograph.
But the name beneath it was EMILIO RIVERA.
Emilio picked it up with shaking hands.
“What the hell is this?”
Clarissa’s face tightened. “I can explain.”
Giovanni almost smiled.
“Interesting. That line is popular this morning.”
Emilio flipped through the fake passport. “When did you get my picture?”
“Emilio—”
“When?”
Clarissa pulled her wrist free when Marco released her. “You said you wanted out.”
“Out of what?” Lucia asked.
Clarissa ignored her. “You said you wanted a life where your last name didn’t decide everything.”
Emilio’s eyes stayed on the passport.
“I said that after dinner one night.”
“You meant it.”
“I didn’t ask for fake documents.”
“You didn’t have to.”
Lucia whispered, “Wow.”
Emilio snapped toward her. “Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“No. For once, you’re doing a great job making yourself look stupid without my help.”
Giovanni lifted the ringing phone.
The screen displayed a name: R.
He answered.
No one spoke.
A man’s voice came through the speaker.
“You’re late.”
Giovanni’s eyes narrowed.
The caller continued. “The old woman is dead. Why are you still in New York?”
Clarissa closed her eyes.
Emilio turned slowly toward her.
The voice said, “Clarissa?”
Giovanni replied, “No.”
Silence.
Then the call disconnected.
Giovanni looked at Clarissa. “Who is R?”
“I don’t know.”
Emilio shouted, “Stop lying!”
Clarissa flinched.
The mourners had become statues around them.
This was no longer a funeral. It was an interrogation with a coffin in the center.
Lucia stepped toward the cash. “How much?”
Marco counted quickly. “Forty thousand.”
Giovanni looked at Emilio. “Did you know?”
“No.”
“About the passports?”
“No.”
“The phone?”
“No.”
“The cash?”
“No.”
Giovanni’s mouth hardened. “Then you chose a woman you know nothing about over a mother who begged you to come home.”
Emilio looked at Helena’s coffin.
For the first time, anger left his face.
What remained was shame.
Clarissa reached for him. “Emilio, listen to me.”
He stepped away.
She froze.
“Tell me who R is.”
“I can’t.”
“Can’t or won’t?”
Her eyes filled. “If I tell you, people die.”
Giovanni said, “People are already dead.”
Clarissa looked at Helena’s coffin.
Then at Lucia.
Then she whispered, “Your mother was not supposed to die.”
Lucia’s body went rigid.
“What did you just say?”
Clarissa realized the mistake immediately.
Too late.
Lucia crossed the space between them and grabbed her by the front of her coat.
“What did you do to my mother?”
“I didn’t kill her!”
“Then who did?”
Clarissa’s eyes moved toward the chapel doors.
A gunshot exploded from outside.
One of the stained-glass windows shattered inward.
Marco tackled Lucia to the floor.
Giovanni dropped behind a pew.
Another shot punched into the wall exactly where Clarissa had been standing.
Clarissa screamed.
Emilio dragged her down.
And through the broken window, Giovanni saw a black sedan racing away from the cemetery.
Someone had just tried to silence Clarissa before she could name R.
The next chapters are on the left side of your screen.
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