Blood & Roses (Vigilante Crime Series)

by Kristi Belcamino

  She saw his dad and cousin, Paolo, but not Timothy. She had to wade through a thick crowd of tourists walking the Ramblas to get to the door to the restaurant. There were more than a dozen people waiting outside to get in. Rose strode past them and through the door.

  The hostess greeted her warmly as Rose walked straight through the dining room to the kitchen. When she walked in, Timothy’s father looked up smiling, but as he looked past her, he frowned.

  They both said it at the same time, “Where is Timothy?”

  8

  Dread instantly flooded her body.

  She reached for her phone and dialed Timothy’s number. It went straight to voicemail. She sent a text and then closed her eyes to pray.

  “When did you last see him?” Timothy’s father asked.

  Rose was trying not to panic. Timothy’s father said he’d never showed up at the restaurant.

  “He left my place about four this morning to come straight here,” Rose said, heart pounding.

  Timothy’s father put down his spatula and wiped his hands on his apron.

  “I was here at ten to four opening up the kitchen.”

  Rose closed her eyes for a second. Panic was coursing through her. There had to be a logical explanation.

  “Was he drunk?” Timothy’s father asked.

  Her eyes snapped open. “No! Not at all. We shared a bottle of wine the night before, but it had been hours since we’d been drinking by the time he left. We went to bed about one.”

  “Come with me.”

  Timothy’s father led her back to a small office. He closed the door behind them and reached for his cell phone.

  Speaking in Italian, he asked if Timothy had come home.

  Then he turned to Rose. “My wife is checking his room.”

  That must be it, Rose thought. He must’ve been so tired, he just went home and crawled in bed.

  After a few seconds, Timothy’s father turned to her with a look she couldn’t understand and said, “He is not there.”

  Two hours later, there was still no sign of Timothy.

  They had called hospitals. They had called the police. They had called every single one of Timothy’s friends. Rose had left several messages for Gia but had heard nothing back.

  Everyone gathered in the restaurant. The family had closed it for the day.

  It was now filled with Timothy’s family—his father, his mother, his aunt and uncle and cousins. His older two brothers lived in Italy. They were waiting for news, ready to board a plane or train if needed.

  Everyone agreed that this was not like Timothy.

  His mother, Emilia, sat in the corner, saying the rosary with her sister.

  Paolo, his cousin, paced but would occasionally smile at Rose. “We are going to kick his ass when we find him for putting us through this, right?”

  She gave a wan smile. If only. But there was a dark pit in her stomach that told her something was horribly wrong. After last night, he would not simply disappear. The smallest glimpse of hope appeared, though. What if he regretted that the nature of their friendship had changed? If he had regrets, he might have taken off somewhere to sort out his feelings. Even though it would break her heart to lose romantic love as soon as she had found it, she would rather Timothy be alive.

  Then her phone rang. Rose jumped. But it wasn’t Timothy.

  It was Gia.

  She was on her way.

  When Gia arrived, Rose ran into her arms. A flood of tears soaked Gia’s black T-shirt as Rose pressed her face into it. Rose had been holding them back, but once she saw Gia she couldn’t stop crying.

  “Sit down,” Gia said, leading Rose to a café table on the sidewalk outside. “Tell me everything.”

  Rose told her about Timothy taking her back to the apartment and the rooftop.

  “He said he loved me.”

  Gia nodded. “I’ve been telling you that for a long time. Then what?”

  “He left about four. He said he had to go help his dad.”

  “Did you see him leave the building?”

  “No, I fell back asleep, but I think before I did, I heard the front gate close from my window. It’s super squeaky and loud.”

  “Okay,” Gia said. “We need to retrace his steps from your apartment to the restaurant.”

  “Yes.”

  “Wait here.” Gia went inside. Rose watched as Gia stood speaking to everyone in the restaurant. When she was done, everyone stood up and filed outside. Gia told her that Timothy’s mother and aunt were going to stay at the restaurant in case Timothy showed up there.

  “Let’s go,” Gia said once they’d all gathered outside on the Ramblas. “We’ll start at the apartment and then split up in groups, covering any possible way back to the restaurant.”

  At the door to the apartment, groups were formed and Gia, Rose, and Timothy’s father and cousin headed east. Rose had texted everyone a recent picture of Timothy so people could show it to others when they asked about him.

  Gia immediately walked into the nearest business, a cheese shop, to show the owner a picture of Timothy.

  The man inside the wine shop told Rose he had only opened up two hours before and hadn’t been there at all the day before.

  Slowly, they made their way down the narrow Gothic Quarter street, stopping in each business to ask about Timothy.

  “We better hurry,” Gia said. “It’s almost time for siesta.”

  In Barcelona, the majority of businesses shuttered their doors every afternoon.

  Locals learned that if you wanted anything, you better do it early or late. Shops closed from 2:00 p.m. to 5:00 p.m. while bars and restaurants usually shuttered between 4:00 p.m. and 9:00 p.m.

  The small group began to walk faster.

  About four blocks down, after stopping at every business along the way, Gia approached a baker who was out in front of his business smoking a cigarette. Rose headed into the small market across the street. She and Timothy had often stopped inside to buy cigarettes. She knew the store opened early in the morning, she just didn’t know how early.

  The clerk inside smiled, recognizing Rose.

  “Have you seen my friend? He’s missing and we are worried about him,” Rose said, holding up her phone with the picture. “He walked by here this morning, early, maybe four?”

  “We don’t open until five,” the woman said, frowning. “I’m sorry.”

  “Thank you,” Rose said and turned to leave.

  “I will let him know you are looking for him if he comes in.”

  Rose nodded.

  Outside she saw Gia speaking to the baker still. She was frowning. Rose started to walk over, but Gia held up her hand. Rose watched as Gia nodded. The man pointed and then mimicked someone stumbling. Rose didn’t care what Gia wanted, she was going over there.

  “What is it? You saw him?”

  The man nodded.

  “Thank you,” Gia said to the man. “Come on, Rose, I’ll explain.”

  Gia took her arm and led her a few doors down.

  “What is it?”

  “The man said he is certain he saw Timothy this morning.”

  Rose turned to head back, but Gia reached for her arm.

  “He said that he was helping a girl who seemed inebriated. He had his arm around her, and she was barely able to walk.”

  Rose swallowed back the sudden jealousy that rose in her throat. All that mattered was that Timothy was okay. “Did the timeline fit?”

  “Yes,” Gia said. “He saw them shortly after four.”

  Rose peered down the narrow street they’d just trod. There weren’t any late-night bars or restaurants. She wondered where the girl had come from.

  “What did she look like?”

  “Tall. As tall as Timothy, he said. Short blonde hair. She was wearing a red dress and no shoes.”

  Rose wouldn’t meet Gia’s eyes.

  “It sounded like the girl needed help walking. Maybe he was helping her home,” Gia said. “He’s a gen
tleman like that.”

  Rose nodded.

  Timothy’s father and cousin caught up to them just then and Gia shared what she had learned.

  When Gia described the girl, Paolo shot Rose a look. She felt her cheeks grow warm.

  Paolo was a larger, huskier version of Timothy. While Timothy was lean, Paolo was more like a big bear. Rose had always liked him. She knew that Timothy and him considered each other more than cousins. That they were also good friends.

  As far as Timothy’s family knew, she and Timothy were platonic best friends. They openly spoke about it, and his mother always said she wished it were different because she adored Rose.

  But something about the way Paolo looked at her made her realize that he knew.

  For the tenth time in ten minutes, Rose checked her phone. No new messages, calls, or texts.

  The bakery was not far from the end of the street where it dumped onto the Ramblas.

  “If he was helping someone home,” Paolo said, “we have no idea which direction he went from here.”

  9

  She had underestimated him.

  He had taken away that which she’d loved the most.

  And now he was coming for her.

  She tried to make it right with a blood sacrifice.

  But it was too soon to tell if it was enough.

  10

  As they stepped onto the Ramblas, Paolo took Rose aside.

  They fell behind Timothy’s father and Gia.

  “Timothy texted me last night—or rather this morning,” he said in a low voice.

  Rose pulled up short. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

  Frowning, Rose said, “I don’t understand.”

  Paolo took out a pack of cigarettes. He extracted one and then offered Rose the pack. She shook her head. After lighting his, he exhaled and said, “I knew that he was going to tell you how he felt last night.”

  “You knew?” Rose said in surprise.

  “Yes. It was a big deal to him. He was really nervous. He was scared to death that it would ruin your friendship.”

  Rose winced and pinched the bridge of her nose.

  “What did he text you this morning?”

  Paolo got his phone out of his pocket, fiddled with it, and handed it to Rose.

  She looked down at the screen. It was a text from Timothy.

  “We are in love. I’ve never been happier. You were right. Thanks, cugino.”

  Rose choked back a sob, handed Paolo the phone, and put her face in her hands.

  “Where is he?” she sobbed.

  Paolo put his arm around her. “I wanted you to see that because I saw the look on your face when Gia talked about the blonde girl.”

  Rose shook her head. “I don’t care about any of that. I just want him safe. I don’t care if he was with another girl. I don’t care if he had sex with her. I don’t care about anything except him being okay.”

  Her voice was thin and high, and she realized she was on the verge of hysteria.

  Before she knew it, Paolo wrapped her in his arms, and she sobbed into his chest.

  “I know. I know. I just think it’s important you know that if he was with that girl, he was being a gentleman, a friend. Because if I know anything in this world, it’s that Timothy has been in love with you for as long as you’ve been friends and that you are everything to him.”

  Rose pulled back and dried her tears. She had been such a fool. She had wasted so many years denying what was between them.

  Just then Gia and Timothy’s father came back.

  “We think that it is best to wait until later, after siesta, and then we should split off in groups and talk to every business on the Ramblas in both directions,” Gia said.

  Rose nodded.

  Even as she did, she saw several businesses shutting their doors for siesta.

  Gia put her arm around her. “Let’s go back to the apartment,” she said.

  Back in her apartment, while Gia sat on the balcony and smoked, Rose scoured all social media for any sign of where Timothy could be. Nothing was posted on any of his accounts. The last picture he’d posted had been of Rose. She hadn’t seen him take it. She’d been laughing at the restaurant, surrounded by friends and family. Her face was lit up by the neon glow of the letters on the wall. Timothy had written three words under the picture: “She is everything.”

  Rose held back her tears. Now was not the time.

  She dialed the police station again.

  When she got to the part about him being eighteen, the officer sighed. “We have to wait twenty-four hours for a missing adult.”

  “That’s ridiculous!” Rose said and hung up. Fury surged through her.

  Not long after, her phone rang. It was Eva.

  “I’m coming back. I just got the news.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Rose said. “Thank you, though.”

  “If he is not home by morning, I will fly back.”

  “Please don’t tell Dante and Wayne,” Rose said. “I know they would cancel their trip, but it’s like their second honeymoon, and there’s not really anything anyone can do.”

  Eva paused.

  “Please, Eva,” she said. “If I think they can help, I will call them myself.”

  “Very well.”

  “I’ll call you as soon as we find him,” Rose said.

  “Please do.”

  Rose hung up feeling brave and confident but knew it was all bluster. She was not fooling Eva. She just didn’t know how else to act. It was either act certain that Timothy would be found soon or erupt into utter hysterics. Panicking wouldn’t do anyone any good.

  Standing so quickly her chair toppled, Rose grabbed her phone and keys. Gia heard the racket and stood in the doorway of the balcony.

  “I have to get out of here. I’m going crazy,” Rose said, her voice full of anguish.

  Gia strode across the room in four long steps. “Let’s go.”

  Even though she knew it would hurt Gia’s feelings, she put out her hand. “Please, I need to be alone.”

  Gia froze and gave her a look that made Rose squirm.

  “What? What is it?” Rose said.

  Gia looked away for a second and then back. “I’m sorry, Rose. I can’t let you go out alone.”

  “What do you mean?”

  This time Gia locked eyes with her. “I can’t take the chance that what has happened to Timothy is related to you somehow.”

  Stunned, Rose stepped back from Gia, her eyes wide. She tripped and fell back onto the couch and sat there in shock.

  Gia came to stand before her. “I’m sorry. It has to be considered.”

  Taking a shaky breath, Rose shook her head. “No. No! You’re saying that something bad might have happened to Timothy because of me? No! No!”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Rose closed her eyes. This was a nightmare. An absolute nightmare. Worse than anything that came to her in her dreams. If something from her past had come to steal her future, she might as well just lay down and die now. It was impossible.

  “Rose?”

  When she opened her eyes, Rose felt like she was dreaming. Everything seemed surreal. This was not happening.

  “I could be wrong,” Gia said. “We just can’t discount that possibility.”

  “But why?”

  Rose stood, stomped over to the closet, and began searching the pockets of her jackets. She wanted a cigarette. She needed something to tamp down her anxiety.

  When Gia didn’t answer, Rose turned.

  “When you turned eighteen yesterday, you came into your trust.”

  Rose froze, staring, her hand still on the closet doorknob.

  Her legs felt weak. She shook her head. No. It couldn’t be.

  “You’re fucking kidding me!”

  “We just don’t know,” Gia said. “And until we find Timothy and hear what his story is, we have to be careful.”

  A
s she said the words, Gia turned toward the door.

  That’s when Rose noticed that Gia had her gun tucked in the back of her waistband. She’d probably had it there the entire day. Rose had never for one second considered that someone had hurt Timothy. In her very worst imaginings, she’d worried that he’d fallen and gotten hurt and maybe was lying unconscious somewhere. Or that he’d been robbed and beat up and left for dead by some street thugs. But hurt because of her? Unfathomable.

  That was something she couldn’t live with.

  “Let’s go,” Gia said, holding the front door open. “We can go walk around. I’m having a hard time sitting still too. We can go down by the beach. Or walk down to the marina.”

  Rose nodded.

  Down at the marina, Rose and Gia sat on a bench toward the end of the dock. They stared out at the horizon.

  “I just feel in my gut that something really bad has happened to him,” Rose said without looking at Gia.

  “Has something strange happened recently?” Gia asked. “Anything at all?”

  Rose thought back over the last few days.

  Then she remembered the two men who had stared at her from the Ramblas.

  She mentioned it to Gia.

  “Do you think I’m being paranoid?”

  “I think you should trust your gut,” Gia said.

  The sun began to set. Rose couldn’t stop the thoughts from racing through her head. Where was Timothy right then? She had checked her phone a dozen times since they’d sat down. She’d fielded calls from Eva and Timothy’s family members.

  Paolo was heading to the police station to make a report.

  “They say no report for adults until twenty-four hours? Well I am going tell them it has been twenty-four hours. Because it’s been twenty-four hours since I saw him. And I’m going to ask them to trace his phone.”

  “Can they do that?” Rose asked.

  “We’ll find out.”

  “Thank you.”

  Timothy didn’t have a “find your phone” feature activated on his phone.

  After the calls stopped and the sun set, Rose and Gia sat in silence.