“How was the ride?” Mateo asks Adrian.
“Quiet. Until she saw your house,” he adds, his tone lightly mocking. “Apparently it’s like a castle.”
Both Morelli men look at me, but I just shrug. “I could fit my whole house in your foyer.”
Mateo’s gaze lingers on mine, reminding me I’m not here for the tour. I can’t imagine anyone being barbaric enough to commit a murder in such a beautiful room, but my nerves jolt when he speaks to me. “Come here.”
My gaze jumps fleetingly to Vince, but I don’t take long obeying. He points to the ground when I don’t come close enough, but I frown in confusion, looking down at the red area rug.
“On your knees. On the rug, just in case.”
“What—what do you mean?”
“Get. On. Your. Knees,” he says slowly, staring at me. “Were those directions easier to follow?”
I look to Vince again, but he doesn’t speak. His face is a mask of dread, which doesn’t give me much hope.
Swallowing, I drop to my knees at the center of the area rug and look up at Mateo.
Mateo nods once, then takes a menacing step toward me. “All right, Mia. I don’t have a lot of time to figure out what to do with you. You live with your mother, you’re in high school—people will notice you missing. For the sake of expedience, I’m going to lay out the rules for you. Once. No sobbing, no complaining or questioning—just listen and obey. I don’t like repeating myself, and I rarely do things I don’t like to do.”
I wait for further instructions, but I somehow don’t expect him to pull a Glock out of his jacket and point it directly at my forehead.
“Oh, please, no,” I whimper, dropping back on my heels.
“The first thing we’re going to do is see how honest you are. Vince assures me you’re a goddamn saint, so let’s find out, hm? Sit forward. You don’t have to be afraid if you’re honest.”
I can hardly manage breathing, but somehow I get back up to my knees.
“You’re going to tell me your story,” Mateo states, bringing the cold, hard barrel of the gun to rest against my forehead. “The first time I hear a lie, I pull the trigger.”
Blood surges through me, and for a split second, everything feels faint, and I fear I’ll pass out. “But… how will you know if it’s a lie?”
“Well, see, Vince told me his version of events in the car. So this really works both ways—if you lie to me, you die. If he lied to me and you tell the truth, you die. Either way, we all learn not to lie to me.”
“Oh, my God,” I whisper, bile rising up my throat.
“Start at the beginning.”
Mind racing, horrified tears gathering in my eyes, I hope to God Vince was honest. “I… I was outside my house to make a phone call to a guy from school. I noticed something strange next door, and realized it was fire. I didn’t have time to call for help, because I saw someone coming out of the house.” Raising a shaky hand, I indicate Adrian. “Him.” I swallow, my eyes moving up to the gun, struggling to focus. “Um… and then a second person came out, and I recognized Vince from school. I… I…” I stop, not wanting to admit the next part. Closing my eyes, swallowing convulsively, I force myself to go on. “I crouched in the bushes so he wouldn’t see me, and I tried to take a video on my phone. I fell, and he saw me, and I ran.”
“A video of him leaving the house?” Mateo asks, to verify.
“Yes. It was stupid, I didn’t… It was a stupid thing to do.”
“Yes. Go on.”
“I dropped my phone and… I had heard rumors about Vince’s family, so I was afraid. I didn’t go back for the phone until the next day, and it was gone. Vince took it. He erased the video, and broke into my house. He threatened me and gave back my phone. My mom came home so I hid him in my bedroom until I could leave. I assured him he could trust me, that I wouldn’t tell, and I meant it.”
Mateo is unmoved by the last line, but he hasn’t shot me yet, so I continue to summarize my time with Vince up to this point. Occasionally he asks questions. I don’t know how detailed I’m supposed to be about things unrelated to what I saw, but I figure it’s no time to hold back.
“You had sex?” Mateo questions, when we get to that part.
My face already had to be red from the stress of the situation, but I imagine the color somehow deepens. “Yes. After that is when he broke up with me.” I’m sweating bullets, having skipped the part about being warned away by some random dude Francesca must have hired.