“Oh my God,” Lina breathed, rising to her feet. “You’re… We’re… really identical. I… Oh my God.”
Gia crossed over to her first. “Hi, Lina, I’m Gia,” she managed, her eyes bright with unshed tears as she studied every detail of her sister’s face. “I can’t believe this,” she added in a choked whisper. “It’s like déjà vu all over again.”
Lina’s lips were quivering, as she visibly struggled for—and failed to attain—control. Tears began streaming down her cheeks, and wordlessly, she gave Gia a tight hug. “I can’t believe this is real,” she wept. “But it is. You’re my sister.” She gazed past Gia, her stare locking with Dani’s. “And so are you.”
Wordlessly, Dani nodded, coming over to join the two of them, also weeping as she joined in the hug.
For a long moment, the three girls just stood there, crying and alternately hugging each other—finding each other after twenty-seven years.
The FI team remained respectfully silent, although tears were gliding down everyone’s cheeks, and Marc’s eyes were suspiciously damp. Claire had unobtrusively slipped into a tub chair, recognizing that this moment belonged to Gia, Dani, and Lina.
Joy pervaded the room, and the ugliness of the past weeks was held at bay.
But the danger hovered close by, threatening to eclipse that joy.
Green Hills Cemetery
Brooklyn, New York
12:20 p.m.
“I’m finally here,” Patrick announced into his cell phone. “They’re gone.”
“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Ryan slammed his fist against the truck’s wall. “Is there anyone around to question? Someone who might have seen them?”
“Not a soul. I combed the grounds. I didn’t see a single visitor. And the mausoleums are placed so far apart that I doubt anyone would have noticed other visitors anyway.” Patrick blew out a disgusted breath. “We’ll have to find Jimmy Colone another way. This is a dead end.”
“Oh, we’ll find him.” Ryan was furiously typing again. “I’m working every lead I can find. He’s the key to all this. And he’s not getting away.”
Todt Hill
12:25 p.m.
Joseph pulled into the driveway and jumped out of the car, simultaneously trying Lina’s cell phone for the umpteenth time.
And like all the previous times, it went straight to voice mail.
“Dammit,” he muttered, striding into the house and heading straight upstairs to the master bedroom, where he knew he’d find Donna.
She was sitting on the edge of their bed, holding a photo of Lina, and sobbing aloud as her fingers traced the lines of their daughter’s face. Hearing Joseph enter the room, she looked up, a trace of hope glittering in her eyes. Seeing the anguish written all over her husband’s face, her trace of hope vanished.
“What did he say?” she asked in a quavering voice.
“Nothing good.” Joseph relayed the conversation to his wife, desperately trying to soften his words when he had no strength to do so.
By the time he fell silent, Donna had gone deadly still. “So it’s true,” she whispered. “Lina is a triplet. And with Angelo gone, we have no way of knowing how or why this happened.” She swallowed her tears, seeking and finding a mother’s strength. “We have to tell Lina.”
Joseph dragged a hand through his hair. “I’ve been trying to call her since I left the cemetery. All I get is voice mail. I’m trying not to think the worst, but…”
“She knows, Joseph.” Donna spoke with absolute certainty. “God help us, but she knows.”
“You can’t be sure of that.” Joseph was grasping at straws and he knew it. “She could be in a class or she could be with a guy or she could be—”
“She could be, but she’s not.” Donna reached for her purse. “We’ve got to find her, to talk to her. It’s the only chance we have of preserving our family—if there’s any chance at all.”
A hard nod. “I’ll drive.”
12:40 p.m.