Page 10 of They Found Us
Leo
After having spent all night going through police reports and CCTV, I find myself waking up in my old—now Marco’s—office chair. It’s a familiar surrounding and not the first time I have fallen asleep here. The morning sun shines through the open curtains. When I look at my watch and realise the time, I quickly open the safe and retrieve the radio phone. While I wait for Katie to answer, I hear voices outside. Knowing I need to leave before I am seen, I put the phone into my pocket. Katie hasn’t answered. It is an hour later there. Katie has probably gotten tired of waiting for my call and taken Mark out to see the animals. Smiling, I think of his impatient tantrums of a morning because he wants to go and see his goats, Upsy and Daisy.
I make my escape unseen and arrive at the hospital to explain my discovery to Van and then Marco.
“They switched clothes,” Marco says in disbelief as I show him my findings. It transpires that the woman who was killed in this accident wasn’t Mia. Van’s sister and Marco’s woman could in fact still be alive.
When Katie and I faked our own deaths and fled Italy, Marco took over as leader of the Guerra. Marco, who I thought could never love a woman, had his heart stolen by Mia Alboni, the daughter of my father’s number one. I had noticed their “friends with benefits” arrangement before I left, but I never thought it would have transformed into what it did. It seems Mia stole his heart over the years. Unfortunately, about six months ago, Mia went to London to attend a marketing campaign for her beauty brand. On the evening of the event, Mia was killed. Although Marco and Van never fully understood what happened, they knew the Martelé were behind it. Upon finding out the Martelé were responsible, Marco retaliated without thinking, trying to catch them off guard on their turf. The Martelé saw him coming. Marco left barely alive, having started the biggest war our organisation has ever seen. When Van explained all these past events to me in the hospital, something just didn’t fit into place. The Martelé are far from discreet in their execution of tasks, but a car ploughing into Mia and her friends while they were on the doorstep of a busy bar seemed too messy, even for them.
After watching the CCTV of the night in question, I am one hundred percent sure the woman killed in that video was not Mia.
The decision is made to go to London. Marco is in no fit state, but that doesn’t stop him. And I don’t’ blame him. If this were Katie, I would do the same. Katie. I ring her again before I board the jet. Again, there is no answer. Although concerned, Iput it to the back of my mind. The sooner we get to the bottom of what happened to Mia, the sooner I can get back to my family.
On the flight over, we gather all the information we can. We speak to our contacts in England and go over additional police reports from that night. Having found the name of the only survivor of the accident, it doesn’t take long for us to find an address.
I drive Van and Marco to the location. The local police, to whom we’ve explained our findings, also meet us there. Unfortunately, this isn’t Italy, and it can be, let’s say, an inconvenience to deal with situations the Guerra way, much to Marco’s disappointment. The police do, however, let Marco enter the house alone. While I wait, I ring Katie again. No answer. The feeling in my gut I have been suppressing resurfaces. She’s in trouble. I need to get to her immediately.
Marco leaves the house not having found Mia, but he has been told she is at a nearby hospital. After dropping Van and Marco off there, I make my way to the airfield. Taking the Guerra jet to the island is a very risky move. This could not only make the Martelé aware I am still alive, but it could also lead them to my location. Unfortunately, I have no choice. I need to get to my family as soon as possible.
During the flight, I continuously ring the phone in my kitchen. Each time it rings out, the more frustrated and angry I become. I feel helpless and infuriated with myself for having left the most important people in the world to me. I left them alone. I left my heavily pregnant, precious wife on an island with no one she could turn to for help. The thought of what may have happened to them has me throwing up in the toilet. Maybe I haven’t been as careful as I had thought. The Martelé may have already found her. I heave until my stomach is empty and my veins bulge through my skin.
After washing my hands and splashing my face with water, I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror. A stern expression with furrowed brows covers my face. It’s a look I haven’t been used to since moving to the island. Fury builds inside of me, and I roar out in anger. I grip the side of the sink I am leaning on and rip it from the wall. Shouting again, I throw the sink out of the bathroom into the cabin lounge of the aircraft. A piercing alarm sounds snaping me out of my outburst. As I walk out of the bathroom, one of the crew members has entered, no doubt to determine the course of the noise.
“Get the fuck out! You were instructed to under no circumstances to enter this part of the plane!” I throw the tap, which is still in my hand, in her direction.
The woman stands for a moment, staring at me in disbelief. I recognise her as one of the usual Guerra jet cabin crew. No doubt she also recognises me. Shit.
“I’m so sorry, Mr Guerra. I... I... won’t say a word. I’m so sorry,” she apologises, looking like she is about to cry as she exits, closing the door behind her.
Sitting down in the nearest chair, I put my head in my hands. ”Oh, Katie, where are you? Please be safe.”
I then go through all the different possibilities of what could have happened to Katie and Mark. Number one, which I dismiss instantly due to not being able to comprehend the outcome, is that the Martelé have found out their location and they are either already dead or being kept until they have me. I move on to number two, which seems the mostly likely. Something has happened to Mark that has resulted in them not being able to be at home. Mark is a little rascal and always up to mischief. He has no awareness of danger. He has probably fallen and broken his arm or injured himself in some way, andthey are both at the hospital. Number three, Katie has gone deaf and cannot hear the phone. Or number four, something is wrong with Katie and the baby.
I’m relieved when I feel the jet starting to descend.
There’s a car waiting for me when I leave the plane. It takes me straight to our house.
“Kat-er-een!” I shout as I rush through each room, searching for my wife and child.
I’m not surprised to find every room empty, but I had hoped they would be here. Taking in the scene in each room, I look for signs of a disturbance. All the doors are locked, and there’s no sign of a struggle, which puts me at ease—a little. When I enter our bedroom, I notice an empty space next to Katie’s dressing table. Her hospital bag—it’s gone.
I rush back down the stairs, grab my car keys, and exit the house. I start the car, then immediately pull out of our driveway without looking. Thankfully there is nothing on the roads, and I arrive at the hospital in under five minutes. I abandon my car outside the entrance and then run through the doors and up to the reception.
“Where is my wife?” I demand. Until I remember where I am. “I’m sorry. I’m looking for Katie Smith. I’m Mr Smith, her husband.”
“That’s okay, Mr Smith. Let me just check the computer.”
The way I’m tapping the desk impatiently with my finger has the receptionist muttering something under her breath. Then she says, “Okay. Your wife is on M block, room one. But I must tell you, Mr…”
She continues speak to me, but I don’t wait. I run through the long hospital hallways, following the red arrows that direct me to M block.
“Room one?” I ask one of the nurses when I arrive.
She points at a door to the side of me. As I push the door open, she shouts, “Sir, wait!”
But I don’t. I walk straight into a situation that takes all the air out of my lungs. It’s like an elephant is stood on my chest. A familiar heart-wrenching pain rips through my soul. No. This cannot be true. It must be my imagination playing tricks on me. I do not believe the sight in front of me.
Chapter Six
