Run To Rome

“I want to see if Lake Como, Italy and Lake Como, Wisconsin have more in common than their names.”

Despite the tension infusing his muscles, Halli’s snippy reply made Trent’s lips tug upward. Every once in awhile she’d made it known she craved her itinerary, even if it was just in the tone of her voice. And if they had followed it? He would never have met her. His smile faded. Better for the both of them.

Wonder how many times she thought that same thing?

A flash of consternation caught him off guard. Ridiculous as it was, he found he didn’t like the thought of her regretting having met him. With a frown, he pushed the thought aside. Halliwell Sanders was nothing but trouble, and it would’ve been better all the way around had they never met. Most especially for her.

On video, Rachel continued to complain, but Ben appeared to be the mediator between the two.

As her brother and sister conversed in the background, Halli kept taping, and things began to happen on screen. The front door to the villa burst open and he recognized Lorenzo running outside.

Trent sat forward, his attention focused beyond the swans. The camera picked up the distant startled honks of the birds as Lorenzo’s body suddenly jerked once, twice, then—

“Hey—” Halli’s voice.

The camera swung in a wild arc, catching the tail end of a blue Fiat Punto as it drove away.

“No!” Trent pounded a fist on the steering wheel and willed the camera to turn back across the lake.

Halli’s laugh reached the microphone, full of disbelief. “Real funny, guys.”

Trent hit the rewind and watched Lorenzo get shot again. And again. His eyes burned. The bastards had shot him in the back. Thirty-five years with Italian law enforcement and this is how you go out. God, I’m sorry I asked for your help.

He rewound it one last time and played the scene frame by frame. The final moment before the camera veered away revealed a single frame glimpse of a man standing in the shattered window, gun in hand. The same man he’d seen at the police station.

Alrigo Lapaglia.

Trent stared for a moment, committing the image of the man’s ruthless expression to memory.

“I got you now, you bastard, and I’m going to nail your ass,” he vowed triumphantly in the silent car. “For Lorenzo and Sean, you fucking coward.”

He set the camera in the passenger seat and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. What a day. And it wasn’t about to get any easier. After he dropped Halli at the consulate, he’d need to go see Simone, Lorenzo’s longtime girlfriend. His friend had mentioned she was working the late shift at the hospital all this week, and though the thought of having to tell her what’d happened tore at his heart, it was the least he could do. Over the past year they’d become almost as good of friends as he and Lorenzo.

Turning his mind to less disturbing thoughts, though no more pleasant, he jammed the car into gear and peeled away from the curb. When he got back to the house, he’d make an extra copy or two of Halli’s video and put them in a safe place. Maybe mail one to his agent in California. If anything happened during the rest of the investigation, he wanted to make sure Lapaglia got what was coming to him beyond getting hit by a truck.

If they were real lucky, the guy was already dead. But that still left the other lowlifes in his group of associates. Between Halli’s video, and the wire he’d recorded off Lorenzo, the evidence he’d gathered would tighten the net on their black market import operations. They would finally pay for the lives they’d ruined, human and animal alike.

Trent anticipated the feeling of vindication when he proved Sean’s death was not a suicide as the police had ruled. Sean had been taking his medication. He’d been excited about his new project. Trent had talked to him that morning.

If Sean had intended to kill himself just a few hours later, Trent would’ve sensed the depression. He would’ve heard something in his brother’s voice. Right?

He rubbed a hand over his face as he drove. For the last few months he’d agonized over that question. It didn’t matter that he specifically remembered hanging up the phone and thinking how good Sean had been doing lately; nagging doubt hammered persistently at the back of his mind since the day of his brother’s death.

Now, he one hundred percent believed what he’d suspected all along. Lapaglia’s culpability wasn’t wishful thinking on Trent’s part as a way to lay aside his guilt. But once he proved the police had covered up the murder, would it be enough? Enough for his father to finally recognize his oldest son was more than what he read in the tabloids?

And if it wasn’t enough for his father, would it be enough for himself?

Surprisingly, that was the tougher of the two questions. He downshifted and slowed for the turn onto his street. His father’s disapproval was ingrained, and to be honest, at times Trent had fostered it. Having lived as a disappointment for so long now, if nothing changed, he imagin

ed he would continue on as normal. But the guilt of not being there for Sean ate him up inside. If justice didn’t get rid of the guilt, he wasn’t quite sure what the hell could.

The added responsibility of Halli Sanders didn’t help. Despite being used to pressure, getting her safely into the hands of someone trustworthy was a hell of a lot different than walking the red carpet and hoping the premiere of his current film didn’t tank.

Trent pulled into his drive and waited impatiently for the gate to open, then close again after he drove through. He parked in the garage and headed inside with the camera, careful to be quiet in case Halli had been able to fall asleep.

The faint smell of food made his stomach rumble with anticipation. His last meal had been breakfast with Lorenzo that morning while they went over their strategy. Suddenly his stomach churned as a fresh wave of anguish washed over him, magnified by the mental image of his friend’s body jerking when the bullets tore into his flesh.

Trent laid the camera on the table and blew out a deep breath before pressing his hand over his constricted chest. He needed to figure out a way to compartmentalize so he could focus. Like when he acted a part. His character would be the guy who didn’t care. The guy who put emotion aside, solved the case, and took down the bad guys moments before the credits rolled.