by Sofia Tate
* * *
The sliver of light is now gone. I must have fallen asleep. I can’t let that happen again.
My head is heavy with pain, but I sit up.
That’s when I spot a full bottle of water and a package wrapped in parchment paper lying near me. The paper is like the kind we use at the shop to wrap meat.
I lean over, reaching for the food in the parchment. I unwrap the paper, revealing a pepperoni stick. There is no way I’m eating anything he’s left for me. I throw the meat and the water across the small space.
That’s when I notice the writing on the paper.
Papa!
My father is the only person I know who writes numbers like that with a grease pencil.
I wrap my arms around my waist, smiling with this newfound knowledge.
I must be so close to home.
I feel energized. I’m determined to find a way to escape.
Morandi can go fuck himself.
I’m going to see Papa again.
And Davison…I will hold him again, kiss him again, laugh with him again. No matter what it takes, I will make that happen.
The metal door again screeches against the floor. Carlo appears with a plastic bag, packed full.
“Buona sera, Mia,” he rasps at me. He bends down and unbinds my feet with a flick of his knife. I’m stretching out my legs to get the circulation going when he throws down the bag next to me on the mattress.
He glares at me noticing that I’ve tossed his food away. I stare him straight in the eye refusing to cower away from his gaze. “You need to change into these. That gown will catch someone’s attention.”
My heart sinks. “Are we going somewhere? What time is it?”
“You’re a curious little whore, aren’t you? It’s late. That’s all you need to know. Once you change, we’re leaving. Now hurry the fuck up!” he shouts.
He drops the bag to the floor and slams the door behind him.
This is it. I need to do something.
Something flashes in my head. A daytime talk show I watched once. I can’t remember which show it was, but it was an episode with a security expert who said that if you’re ever kidnapped, you should do everything you can not to be taken to a second location, probably to make it easier to find you.
Once I put on the sweats and hoodie that are in the bag, I sit down on the mattress. I smooth out my gown, my beautiful black gown, which everyone gushed over at the recital.
It’s then that I know what I need to do. The only ammunition I have at my disposal.
The door opens again, with Tony trudging toward me, and Carlo right behind him.
“Is she ready?” Carlo demands of his accomplice.
“Yeah,” Tony barks, throwing the hood over my head.
“Aspetta, per favore,” I quietly ask, cringing internally as I look Carlo directly in the eyes.
“We don’t have time to wait, bitch!” Tony yells at me.
I can tell Carlo is intrigued. Hearing the Italian language come from my mouth must have disconcerted him. “What is it?”
I swallow. “May I sing for you? A beautiful Puccini aria, one I’m sure you’ll know.”
“Are you fucking nuts?” Tony shouts, shaking me by the shoulder.
“Why do you want to sing, cara?”
I take a deep breath.
He wants me to be his slave? Fuck that! I know what I have to do.
Praying like hell that Carlo will buy my fake sincerity, I soften my eyes and give him a wide smile. “Well,” I say in a gentle voice, “since we’re starting this new life together, I want to do it on a positive note.”
It’s obvious Carlo is seriously considering what I said.
Please. Oh God. Please.
Finally, Carlo nods his head. “Sì. I would like that. Sing as if you were singing only to me.”
“You lost your damn mind, Carlo?” Tony yells.
“Shut up, stupido. She wants to sing to me. And we have time. It’s only midnight. Go make sure the car is ready.”
“Goddamn it!” Tony curses as he goes out the door, slamming it behind him.
Carlo walks to me, lifting his hand to my hair, patting my head as he brushes my cheek with his lips. I grit my teeth, fisting my hands to keep me from pushing him away. I have to endure this. My father’s handwriting on that paper was a sign. Even if the police are nowhere close to finding me, at least I’ll know that I tried.
My mother’s murderer whispers into my ear, “Finally. You understand, don’t you?”
I silently nod.
Carlo stands with his back to the door, taking a few steps back. “Go on, bella. Cantala per me.”
I nod. I vocalize the scales and shake my hands to release the tension. I clear my throat and open my mouth, singing with as much strength as my body allows.
The opening lyrics of “Sì, mi chiamano Mimi” echo from my mouth. I stare at Morandi full-on, keeping his attention. I act out the lyrics, imagining I’m onstage at the Met in my debut role, the house is sold out, and Davison is sitting in his family’s box, admiring me from afar.
I use every muscle in my body to make sure I’m singing as loudly as I can, praying that someone hears me.
But with the last lines of the aria, I try to think of something else I can do. Anything to keep me here.
Carlo starts clapping after I finish. He steps closer to me, touching my face with his fingers. My stomach turns from the feel of his filthy hands on my skin, but I hide the disgust from my face. His hands travel down to my throat, his thumbs pressing tightly into my trachea.
“Brava, Mia. So beautiful,” he says, his putrid breath exhaling on my face. “Too bad you’ll never be able to perform at La Scala in Milano. Your voice is such a gift. I’m so lucky you’ll be singing to me from now on. And if you ever disobey me, I’ll crush your lovely neck so that you’ll never sing again. Do you understand?”
Before I can comprehend what’s happening, the metal door is being kicked in. A loud male voice shouts, “POLICE!” Gunshots ring out, and as Carlo’s hands release me and his body collapses to the floor, it knocks me down and I feel myself falling back. My head hits the edge of the mattress, cushioning it, but my body slams into the concrete floor, making me cry out in pain.
A series of coughs shakes my body as I take in large gulps of oxygen. My entire neck is stinging from the pain of Carlo’s hands. When I look up, I’m staring into the eyes of Detective Dermot Leary, his upper body covered in a Kevlar vest with NYPD boldly printed across it in blinding white letters.
He picks me up in his burly arms, running out of the building. “It’s okay. I got you, Allegra. It’s over. You’re safe now,” he pants.
My eyes widen when I see what’s waiting outside for me. Camera flashes go off as a cordon of policemen surrounds Leary and me. “Get back!” he roars to the horde of reporters and paparazzi.
He lays me down swiftly onto a waiting gurney. “I’ll see you at the hospital with your dad. Get her out of here!” he shouts to the EMS paramedics who are hovering over me. They quickly strap me in, lifting me into the waiting ambulance. When they lock the gurney in place, I glance to my left and burst into tears.
Davison is sitting next to me, wearing the Harvard sweatshirt I always wear at his apartment. His eyes are wet with unshed tears, but his face turns fiery red when he sees me.
“Allegra…” he says in a rough voice, taking my hand in his, kissing the back of it, my palm, my fingers, his eyes never leaving mine. “I’m here, baby. And I’m going to kill that son of a bitch myself.”
I fall into wracking sobs, my entire body shaking. “He’s dead. He’s dead. I sang for him, and I…I just…” I sputter. “Don’t leave me, Davison.”
“Baby, calm down. Please,” he begs, holding my hand in one of his while stroking my hair with the other. “I’m never leaving you. It’s over. You’re safe now. I’m here.”
I can’t stop crying. I’m losing my breath, panting for oxygen.
O
h my God. Just like Papa was waiting for me in the ambulance so long ago…
One of the paramedics shoves a needle into my arm and a mask over my nose. “We need to calm her down, Mr. Berkeley. She’s going into shock.”
A wave of warmth begins coursing through my veins. As I fade away, I hear Davison’s soothing voice repeating, “I’m here, baby. You’re safe. I’ll never leave you. Never.”
Chapter Twenty
When I open my eyes again, the brilliant light of the morning sun floods the room I’m in, accentuated by the crisp shade of white that surrounds me—white walls, white bed sheets, white hospital gown. The overload on my senses is blinding. It takes some time for my eyes to adjust to my new environment after what I’ve just been through. Even the temperature of the room is unnerving. The heat from the sun warms my small hospital room, and despite lying under a thick blanket, shivers still shake my body, goose bumps popping up all over my arms.
I glance to both sides of my bed, finding the two men I love asleep—my father on a metal cot, and Davison in a chair, wearing the same clothes he had on in the ambulance, his head lolling back and dark scruff on his face. I’m desperate to see his brilliant emerald eyes again, and his lush lips reflecting the smile in his eyes when I make him laugh over something silly we both share.
My throat is parched. A water pitcher and a plastic cup sit on a side table. I reach for them with my right arm, but with the IV sticking in the crook of my elbow, I can’t reach them fully and the cup goes flying to the floor, waking up Davison in the process.
He snorts once, shaking his head to get his bearings. When he sees me, he jumps to his feet, leaning over to take me in his arms.
“Allegra, thank God,” he murmurs, kissing me softly on the lips. “Are you in pain? I can get the nurse.”
“No, no, I’m fine. Where am I?”
“Beth Israel. Do you need something?” he asks worriedly.
“I’m really thirsty.”
“Hang on, I’ll get some water for you.”
I watch as he picks up the cup from the floor, taking it into the bathroom.
“No, Davison, it’s okay. I’m sure it’s clean.”
“I’m not taking any chances,” he shouts over his shoulder.
I sigh in exasperation as I hear the water running, then him returning and pouring the cup full from the pitcher, poking a straw into the cup to make it easier for me to drink.
As I sip the cool liquid, rehydrating my body, my father stirs on the cot. He sits up, placing his feet on the floor and running his hands over his eyes and hair. When he sees me awake, he stands and moves closer to me.
“Cara, ma stai bene? Are you all right? We were so scared…” he cries, tears forming in his eyes. He hugs me, kissing me on the top of my head.
“I’m okay, Papa,” I whisper, my voice still raw. “How did you find me?”
Davison looks directly at me. “When you didn’t come out for the group introduction, I knew something was wrong. I went backstage and found your phone on the floor in the dressing room. I guess you had gone back to take a picture of yourself for me and that’s when Tony grabbed you?”
I nod in reply.
Papa pats my hand. “Then Davison came to tell me what happened, and I called Dermot. The recital went on because we didn’t want to alarm anyone.”
“I sent my mom home,” Davison continues, “and we set up command central in your house, hoping someone would call with a ransom demand, but nobody did. You won’t believe this, baby, but you actually managed to get half of the pig’s face in the shot, so Detective Leary was able to track him down faster than he would have without it.”
A deep voice booms, “It’s true, Allegra. That picture helped save your life. You saved your own life.”
We all turn our heads as Detective Dermot Leary walks into the room.
Leary steps forward to me. “We studied all of the CCTV feeds and found him on the Lower East Side. You were being held in the basement of the same building on Rivington Street where you took ballet lessons when you…”
I cover my mouth with my hands. “Oh my God…”
Davison and my father come closer to comfort me, with Papa using soothing words and Davison placing soft kisses on my hair.
“How are you feeling?” Leary asks me.
“Tired and sore, but better than I was.”
“Good. You don’t have to worry. Carlo is dead—”
“Yeah, I was there,” I say under my breath.
“And Tony Greco is in custody.”
A worried look crosses my father’s face. “She won’t have to testify against him, will she?”
Leary shakes his head. “I doubt there will be a trial. It’s an open-and-shut case. He’ll probably make some kind of deal with the DA.”
“Will she still be in danger?” Davison asks, taking his hand in mine.
“No,” he assures us. “With Morandi dead, Tony knows better than to mess with Allegra anymore. It was personal for Carlo, but he was just his accomplice. And if I have to, I’ll remind him what will happen to him if he does decide to contact her again because it’s personal for me.”
“It’s personal for all of us, Detective,” Davison corrects him. He leans down and kisses my hair. “Be right back, baby.”
I watch him step into the bathroom. When I hear the door lock, I turn to Detective Leary.
“Before he comes back, I want to tell you something,” I announce hurriedly.
“What is it?” he asks with complete focus.
“Carlo’s plan was to take me to Naples and make me his sex slave,” I tell him as quietly as I can. “He was going to pass me around to his friends.”
Papa takes my hand. “Cara mia!” With tears in his eyes, he leans over and embraces me. “Thank God we found you in time.”
“I know, Papa. Just don’t tell Davison,” I plead with him. “It would devastate him.”
“I won’t,” my father reassures me.
“Same goes for me,” Leary adds in. “And that Italian in the trafficking ring wasn’t connected to Morandi; Carlo was working on his own.”
“I understand. But I hope you can bust them soon and save all those girls.”
“Don’t worry, Allegra. We’re making solid progress.”
I hear the lock releasing in the bathroom. Davison steps out, an odd smile on his face, which disconcerts me.
My heart starts beating nervously. “Is something wrong?”
“Of course not,” he answers somewhat quickly. “You’re here, safe and sound with us.”
“Okay.” I accept his answer, but something about it still bothers me.
A thought strikes me unexpectedly. “Did…Tony…” I gulp. “Did he come to the shop?”
“How did you know?” Papa asks.
“Because I saw your handwriting on the paper,” I tell my father with tears in my eyes. “I took that as a sign that I couldn’t give up, that I was somewhere close to you. And I was right.”
Davison squeezes my hand when he hears that. I look into his eyes and smile as widely as I can, my face still bruised from Carlo’s hits.
“I showed the picture to Luigi,” Papa confirms. “I wasn’t working because I was upstairs with Davison and the police waiting for a ransom call. Pietro was in the shop then too, and Luigi had him run upstairs to tell us to come down right away, and that’s when Luigi told us.”
“From then, it was just a matter of tracking him, watching his every move, and eventually, he led us to you,” Leary reveals. “We moved in when we saw him packing the getaway car, which meant Carlo was probably getting ready to leave the city with you.”
Thankfully at that moment, a tall man with blond hair wearing a white coat comes through the door. “Good morning, Miss Orsini. I’m Dr. Andrew Scott. How are you feeling this morning?”
I roll my eyes, but refrain from making a snide comment about the frequency that question had been asked of me in the last two hours. “I’m fine. Just sore and tired.�
��
He picks up a chart that hangs attached to the foot of my bed. “Well, everything looks good. All of your test results came back negative, but I still want to run some more to make sure you’re completely out of the woods.”
“When can I go home?”
“You’ll go home when the doctor says you can,” Davison declares with a Don’t even think about it look on his face. And with Papa nodding in agreement, I know I’m outnumbered.
“And you’re going to have a twenty-four-hour police guard outside your door until you leave,” Leary adds.
I start to shiver again. “But why? You said I wasn’t in danger anymore.”
Davison and Papa take my hands in theirs to calm me down.
“It’s not Tony, Allegra,” Leary reassures me. “It’s the press. They’re swarming outside.”
“Great,” I mutter under my breath.
“Don’t worry, baby,” Davison says. “Nobody is coming in here uninvited. We’ll make sure of it.”
An orderly comes in with a wheelchair. “Time for those tests, Miss Orsini,” Dr. Scott announces. “These will take a while. If you need to, go get something to eat,” he suggests to Davison and my father.
I slowly sit up, with both of them rushing to help me. “I’ve got this,” I tell them, even as Davison picks me up to put me in the wheelchair himself. “Watch the IV, Harvard,” I warn him.
“I got you, baby,” he says to me with that confident tone in his voice that I have missed so much.
My father comes around from the other side of the bed. He kisses my cheek. “I’m going to go home and change. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“Take your time, Papa. And tell Luigi grazie for me and that I can’t wait to tell him that myself.”
“I will, cara. Ti amo.”
“Ti amo anch’io.”
Leary steps over, placing his hand on my shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Allegra. Come by the precinct when you’re feeling better so you can give an official statement. I’ll see you soon.”
