Almost Dead

by Blake Pierce

  Mr. Morandi arrived at exactly five p.m. As soon as the car’s headlights flickered their way up the drive, the children burst out of the front door and hurtled over to the large black SUV.

  “Papa!” they screamed in unison.

  Cassie followed, and was in time to see a tall man with tousled, graying hair climbing out of the car. He bent to hug his daughters, his face alight with joy.

  “My lovely girls. Nina, Venetia, how you have grown. I have missed you so much.”

  “We missed you too, Papa. Why have you been away so long?” Nina asked.

  “Circumstances were beyond my control and I was forced to stay away. I promise it will never happen again.”

  He straightened up and saw Cassie.

  “You must be Cassie, the au pair. The police told me you were staying on to care for everyone until I arrived. I cannot thank you enough.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” she said shyly, stepping forward.

  “She is our friend,” Venetia told her father in piercing tones, and Cassie blinked unexpected tears away.

  “I am glad to hear it and I hope she will agree to be my friend as well.” With a grateful smile, Mr. Morandi shook Cassie’s hand before taking his bag out of the car, together with two large, beautifully wrapped parcels.

  “These are for my beautiful girls,” he said.

  With screeches of delight, Nina and Venetia took the gifts.

  Cassie turned away, wanting to give Mr. Morandi some time alone with his daughters, but to her surprise, he called after her.

  “Can we meet in twenty minutes, in Ottavia’s downstairs office?”

  “Of course,” Cassie said, wondering what Mr. Morandi wanted to tell her in private.

  When she walked in, Cassie sensed that Ms. Rossi’s dominant presence had finally evaporated. Mr. Morandi was already making a start on packing up. With him whistling a tune as he filled a cardboard box with files, the elegant room seemed like a different and friendlier space.

  “Please close the door,” he said.

  Hesitantly, Cassie complied, before taking a seat.

  “I am going to put this house up for sale as soon as possible,” he told her. “We will make a fresh start as a family, in a place where there are no bad memories.”

  Cassie nodded. She couldn’t help wondering what had happened during the divorce, and how Ms. Rossi had managed to keep the children away from their father afterward.

  “As you can imagine, the divorce was extremely acrimonious.” Mr. Morandi said, as if reading her mind. “Ottavia had become extremely difficult to live with. I knew from the start that she was aggressive, uncompromising, and driven. I loved her for all her strong qualities, but I didn’t realize the true nature of the person that lay beneath. After the children were born, aggressive behavior turned abusive—to me, most of all. Uncompromising became unreasonable and combative. She became emotionally and physically violent to me and I worried she would start doing the same to the children.”

  “That must have been impossible to live with,” Cassie said.

  He frowned, and Cassie could see his deep regret that things had reached the point of no return.

  “It was unbearable. I tried my best to manage the situation. I suggested counseling, therapy, but she wouldn’t hear of it. In the end I had to leave. It was too toxic. I was suffering, my business was suffering. I hoped I would be able to get full custody of the children but I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.”

  Intrigued, Cassie leaned forward.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “Ottavia launched a full-scale court battle against me. She changed the locks and reprogrammed the gate and fired all the staff who knew me. The cook, the maids, all were replaced. She disabled the camera feed to the security company so nobody could monitor what was happening inside the house. I was freaking out. I hired a private investigator to see what was going on, but he couldn’t get near the house. Every time, she’d call the police and say there was an intruder lurking nearby.”

  Now all the security precautions made sense to Cassie. Ms. Rossi’s main concern had been preventing her husband, or anyone working on his behalf, from gaining access.

  “I tried to meet up with the children at the stables but they were never there. I called the school, who said they could give me no information as the children’s current legal guardian had forbidden it.”

  Mr. Morandi buried his head in his hands, remembering.

  “The court case was scheduled for March. I tried everything I could to bring it forward but with the children in their mother’s care, and no proof of anything untoward, it was impossible. Even then, I doubt I would have received full custody, and I know she would have fought to prevent me from having any access at all. I knew she was abusing them. Of course, with me gone, they were her next target. I was desperate.”

  Cassie nodded. Now everything was making sense. The divorce had clearly been a catalyst for the worsening abuse. She wondered if Mr. Morandi would have gone ahead with it if he had known what the consequences would be.

  Mr. Morandi stared directly at her, his gaze piercing and intelligent.

  “I am grateful that you could be there for the girls, and thankful beyond words that the court case no longer lies ahead.” He regarded her again with a considering expression and she thought he was looking more closely at the scab on her cheek, and the bruise, which was fainter but still visible.

  Cassie felt the knot in her stomach pull tighter.

  “It was the least I could do,” she said in a small voice. “I’m just glad I was there to help the girls. Things did get rather out of control a couple of times, and I think it might have gotten even worse if I hadn’t been around.”

  It was all she dared to say.

  “You know,” he continued quietly, “it sounds terrible to say this, but I feared we would never be able to achieve a reasonable compromise. Not the way things were. I worried that the children would be the victims. I often thought, and even hoped, that somehow her dreadful behavior might attract the consequences it deserved. That she would pick a fight with the wrong person and that she would receive what was coming to her.”

  There was a silence in the office for quite some time.

  Cassie knew exactly what Mr. Morandi was implying. He’d been as open as he could without speaking the words outright. He knew that she’d done what he hoped somebody would do. And he wasn’t blaming her, not at all. As clearly as he dared, he was thanking her.

  After a long pause, Mr. Morandi resumed speaking, in a different and more formal tone.

  “A nurse is arriving this evening to look after Nonna until we can find a home where she will receive the very best care and therapy,” he continued after a while. “Certainly, living in this house was never going to be a sustainable or safe option for her,” he emphasized firmly.

  “That sounds like an ideal solution,” Cassie said, grateful for the kindness he was showing to the old lady.

  “And now, yourself. I would like to give you a bonus payment as a thank-you.”

  He handed her an envelope and Cassie took it, surprised by the thickness of the cash inside.

  “I am beyond grateful,” he repeated. “I know you are probably eager to leave, as this must have been a very unpleasant situation.”

  “I was happy to stay for the girls’ sake,” Cassie mumbled, as he continued.

  “You are most welcome to have dinner with us this evening, and sleep here one more night, rather than leaving in the dark. In fact, you are warmly invited to spend this time here. The girls will appreciate it.”

  “Thank you for the offer. I’d like to stay one more night,” Cassie said.

  Mr. Morandi smiled. “Nina and Venetia will be glad. You know, they told me while we were outside that they were impressed by your bravery. Both of them said to me they hope that one day they will be as brave as you are.”

  Cassie felt touched beyond words. Her actions hadn’t felt like bravery. She’d felt a
s if she was operating in a state of terror, constantly on the back foot, forcing herself to act only when she felt the girls would be in danger otherwise. That wasn’t bravery—or was it?

  Thinking about it, Cassie guessed that ultimately, bravery was about overcoming your fears. And perhaps, in this elegant house, faced with the unspeakable situation she’d been forced to deal with, she had found a way to do exactly that.

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  Cassie set her alarm for early the next morning. She needed to get out of the house before the nurse was up and about. She didn’t want to have to field any awkward questions about what Nonna might have said during the night.

  She had enough Euros in her pocket to make the trip across the border and get settled in another country. Switzerland and Austria were closest, and both appealed. She remembered what Jess had said about the ski slopes. There would surely be opportunity to hole up somewhere snowy, do some skiing, and have space to come to terms with what she’d done.

  When she carried her bag downstairs, she was surprised to see the girls were waiting for her at the door, dressed in their nightgowns.

  “We heard you leaving and came to say goodbye,” Nina said.

  “And Papa gave us this,” Venetia added. “It is a card with his email address. He said you are always welcome to visit, and if you email him, he will send you our letters, so we can write to you when we settle into the new house.”

  Cassie took the business card from Nina and put it carefully in her purse.

  “I’ll write you, too,” she promised. “I’m not sure where I’m heading next, but I’ll send you photos. I’ll miss you a lot, but I’m glad that you’re going to be living with your papa.”

  She hugged both the girls hard before heading to her car. As she drove out, she saw them watching her and waving.

  As she zigzagged her way through the streets, fragments of half-remembered dreams came back to Cassie. She’d slept badly and had been troubled by recurring nightmares. An endless staircase flashed into her mind, with a body slumped at the bottom. In her dream, she hadn’t pushed the person down, though. Jacqui had.

  Alive and well, her sister had stepped forward and deliberately shoved the person—it had been a woman—down that impossibly steep staircase, and had watched it tumble and fall all the way down. Then she’d turned to Cassie and smiled.

  “That’s how we stay safe in this house,” she’d said.

  The weird thing was that part of this scenario didn’t feel like a dream. It felt as if a memory, long buried, had been unlocked in Cassie’s mind, but try as she might, she couldn’t recall any more of it.

  Jacqui’s situation had been pushed to the back of her mind during the Rossi family debacle. There simply hadn’t been space in her head to think about it. But now, with a clear mind, Cassie found her worry growing with every mile she drove.

  She’d traveled to Italy hoping to find Jacqui. Now, she was about to learn what had happened to her sister.

  If she had died, Cassie resolved she would demand details. If there was more to the story, she wanted that information, too. She wasn’t going to settle for anything less and she certainly was not going to accept being given the brush-off by somebody who was covering the truth for their own reasons.

  As the sun rose, the suburban landscape gave way to hills and fields, and she saw signboards for her destination.

  There was so much at stake here, and she couldn’t bear to think that it had reached a point where the answer was only a short drive ahead. Was Jacqui dead or alive? Had the boutique owner lied, and if so why? How was Cassie going to drill down to the truth when other people might have pressing reasons for wanting her to believe their version?

  “Please, let me find out what happened,” she said aloud, hoping that her words would somehow attract the outcome she needed.

  Bellagio was as scenic as Cassie had thought it would be. In fact, the pictures on the Internet had not done it justice. Cradled among imposing mountains, nestled on the azure shores of Lake Como, the town itself was a storybook destination. Compact and picturesque, every turn of the narrow roads brought a different, incredible view.

  Cassie wished she wasn’t too nervous to appreciate its beauty.

  She found Mirabella’s easily, on the northern side of the town’s main shopping street, which was packed with bistros and restaurants, coffee shops, and clothing stores and gift kiosks.

  It was nine o’clock in the morning, and the streets were still quiet, with most of the stores just starting to open their doors for the day.

  Cassie parked nearby and walked down the cobbled street to the boutique. She felt a sense of unreality, treading over the same gray, flat stones that Jacqui had done, seeing the same view, breathing in the same fresh, cold air. Jacqui had worked here and lived here. Cassie wished she knew whether her sister had been happy in her work, or whether she been depressed. Had things gone wrong, here in this place, to an extent where Jacqui had believed they could never be right again? For a terrible moment, she feared that this was where Jacqui’s childhood trauma had caught up with her and she had chosen to end her own life.

  She dreaded the news that would await her in this small, scenic town. She had no idea if Mirabella had been lying or not, and if she had, whether she would agree to tell her the truth. Once people had lied, Cassie knew they often clung to their story, and it became their new reality. She had to accept that she might never find out what had really happened to her sister—or worse, she might have to take in the unbearable details of how she had died.

  Feeling sick with nerves, Cassie walked up to the boutique’s entrance.

  Mirabella’s was open. The tiny store was packed with merchandise, seeming to specialize in tops and dresses. Each piece looked beautiful and unique, and Cassie was sure that it was priced accordingly.

  Behind the counter stood a short woman with graying hair, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, and a peach-colored top with gold brocade.

  “Buongiorno,” she greeted Cassie with a smile.

  Cassie approached hesitantly. Her mouth felt dry, and she wondered if she’d be able to get the words out at all.

  Her first attempt was no more than a nervous croak. Her heart was pounding as hard as if she’d run the whole way up this steep, cobbled street.

  Clearing her throat she tried again.

  “Are you by any chance the owner, Mirabella?”

  The woman’s forehead creased slightly, and Cassie could see her thinking that this was probably going to be some kind of a complaint, or specialized request. Either way, a difficult customer.

  “I am, yes. How can I help you?”

  “My sister worked here. Jacqui Vale. I called a few days ago to ask about her. You told me—”

  Cassie paused, gathering the courage she needed to say the awful words.

  “You told me she’d died. So I came here, because I needed to find out if it was true. And, if it is, I want you to tell me what happened. I am her family and I deserve to know.”

  She found herself blinking tears away as she met Mirabella’s astounded gaze.

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  For a moment, Mirabella stood in shocked silence, as if she’d never expected Jacqui’s sister to walk in and start asking difficult questions.

  Then she seemed to shut down and Cassie couldn’t read the expression in her eyes.

  “That is correct, yes. She died. That is all I have to say to you.”

  “No!” The word came out louder than Cassie had intended and she let herself go with it, allowed herself to shout, because this rudeness and disregard for feelings was completely out of line. After the hellish experience she’d been through, she was not going to allow this shop owner to bully her into believing her version. Not without giving her the proof she deserved.

  “I will not accept this,” Cassie shouted, and the woman stared at her, startled and defensive.

  “You are causing a commotion. Please leave,” she muttered.

  She
turned, and Cassie saw that she was going to open the door behind her and slip through it. Locked in the safety of her back office, she would probably summon local security or police to get Cassie removed.

  Her gaze homed in on the side of the counter, where there was a gap big enough to squeeze through. Cassie darted toward it, and a moment later, she was at the door and grabbed the handle even as the woman reached for it.

  “What are you doing?” Mirabella tried to push her away, but she was clumsy with shock. Her voice was shrill.

  Breathlessly, Cassie stated her case.

  “I’m not looking to use force or cause any trouble. But I want complete and truthful answers. I deserve them. I haven’t come all this way to have you try and leave the room while we’re speaking!”

  She could hear the outrage in her own voice. Mirabella’s gaze slid to the side.

  “You are a stranger, and I owe you no further information,” she insisted.

  Scenarios spun through Cassie’s mind as she considered the woman’s words.

  She was hiding something. She was being deliberately obstructive and withholding what she knew, and she was doing this purposely. Cassie had no idea why, and wondered if Jacqui had been involved in serious trouble.

  “She’s my sister,” she said, trying to keep her voice calm. “I don’t think that qualifies as being a stranger. I have traveled the whole way here to try and find her after she called me. I’m her family. I don’t care what happened between you and her. I deserve answers and I’m not letting go of this door until I get them.”

  She saw Mirabella glance at her tightly gripping fingers. The woman was smaller and shorter and there was no way she could prize Cassie’s grasp away from the door, because she was holding on with all the determination she possessed. Short of leaving her own shop, she had no way of getting rid of Cassie now.

  She gave an impatient sigh.

  “This is wasting my time and I have things to do.”

  Cassie jutted her chin.

  “I have nothing to do and I can stand here all day, until you tell me what happened to my sister, and where she is, and why you said she was dead.”