“Why were you with him in the first place?”
She throws her arms to her sides. “He always denied he was anything more than an accountant. He made me believe that his clients just happened to be Italians who were being unjustly persecuted by the feds over their nationality.” Her eyes fill with fear. “I found out the truth eventually. He’s dangerous. He’s killed at least fifty or sixty people if I’m going by his kitchen utensil collection.”
“What?”
“He likes to cook, so he buys himself a new utensil every time he murders someone. It’s his thing.”
Okay. She’s married to a psychopathic, murdering accountant who enjoys collecting spatulas and stuff, which in itself is a telltale sign that something is the matter with the guy. “I’m guessing he’s after you now and wants Fia back?”
“He doesn’t know about her.”
Phew! “Does he know about me?”
“No.”
Double phew!
She continues, “After he caught up with me the last time, I stayed for a month until I realized I was pregnant. I’ve been on the run ever since. I had Fia in an ER and ran with her before any public record could be made.”
“So you have zero documents to prove she’s yours.” And…I’m back to square one. Awesome.
“No, but I have much bigger problems, Dean. My sister passed away last week, and I had to go to the funeral. I knew it would be a risk because Tony might be looking for me there, but I couldn’t miss it. She was everything to me—my best friend.”
So that’s why she needed to leave the baby with me. Marli was willing to risk her own life but wasn’t willing to risk Tony finding out about Fia. I want to say it was a stupid choice to go to the funeral, but I’d probably do the same if it were Flip. Lately, things have been crazy, but I usually see or talk to him on the phone once a week. We’re close.
“So you didn’t want to risk Tony finding out about Fia.” I bob my head, trying to let it all sink in.
“He can’t ever know about her, Dean. Not ever. If he does, he won’t rest until he has her. He’s possessive about his things, and he’ll see her as one of them. He’ll kill anyone who gets in his way.”
And awesome again. How did I get so lucky? “But what if she’s not his? What if she’s mine?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It matters to me.”
“That’s not what I meant. If he finds out I had her, and it’s documented she’s yours, he’ll know I cheated. He’ll kill you, Dean. He’ll kill your family, your friends, your pets, your houseplant, your dishwasher, your—”
“Okay. I get it. He’ll kill. A lot.”
“Once he’s done with you, he’ll come for me, too. But he won’t kill me. He’ll make me pay first. Toes, fingers, lips, ears, teeth—”
“Okay. I get it.” Basically, if Fia is connected to Marli in any way, someone dies.
I’m strangely relieved to finally know the truth. Yet I also have the sudden urge to dye my hair, grow a really big mustache, and move somewhere no one wants to live. Maybe San Francisco would work. Too much human poop on the sidewalks.
“I’m so sorry, Dean. I never meant for this to happen.” The sadness in her eyes tugs on my heartstrings.
“So what’s your plan?” I sit on the bed next to her.
“To disappear. For good. I just want to see her one last time.”
I want to swear. I want to yell at this woman I hardly know, but I can’t bring myself to do it. She’s been through some pretty bad stuff. “I don’t know what to say. Your plan leaves me out on a ledge, because I won’t be able to prove Fia’s mine.”
“Exactly. You can’t ever have her blood tested, Dean. Not even at a private lab. Tony is smart. He has connections everywhere. And I’m one hundred percent sure he’s using them to try to find me. They probably have my DNA flagged in the FBI database—Fia has my DNA.”
“Why would your DNA be flagged?”
She shrugs. “In case my body turns up somewhere, he’ll know.”
“That’s grim.”
“It’s reality. And it’s why I came to warn you. Once I saw what people were saying in the news, I worried you might try to prove she’s your daughter.”
“Only because I don’t want them to take her.”
Marli gives me a serious look. “You should let them.”
“Wait. You never planned to come back, did you?” I conclude. “You hoped I’d hand her over to Child Services.” She said she’d done her research, so that means she knew my situation. College student. Scholarship. Budding football career.
“Don’t be mad. I needed to make sure she had a chance.” She covers her hand with mine and squeezes.
“Then why not dump her at some orphanage? Leave her with Child Services yourself? Why put me through all this?”