Susanna cried out, a sound of anguish. ‘Oh my God. Ellie, is she OK?’
‘There was no one at the scene,’ said the lieutenant. ‘I think it’s of the highest importance that we find your daughters as soon as possible.’
TWENTY-TWO
Lieutenant Colonel Baroni watched as the pickup truck winched Abby Morelli’s car up onto the ramps. Night had fallen and the crash site was lit by the forensic team lights. Numerous moths and bugs flitted in the beams, suicidal as they hurtled themselves at the piercing brightness. The car would be checked over thoroughly but Baroni had already flashed her torch over the seats. There were no bodies. A small amount of blood on the driver’s seat but that was it. She looked up at the torches flaring through the olive groves, could hear the sounds of the dogs as they strained at their leads. Were the women out there somewhere, perhaps having wandered off from the scene to get help? Or had one tried to escape from the other and failed, now lying dead and bloodied under an olive tree? Somehow she sensed not. Baroni’s instincts told her these women had gone in the direction of the road. She looked into the darkness, the same way that the car had been facing. In her gut she felt the two sisters had continued on the same course. She called over to Captain Santini and they got back into their patrol car.
Standing outside the ochre-painted house, Baroni knocked for a second time. Santini was standing next to her, his whole body hyper with impatience. He raised an arm, about to hammer on the door again, but she flashed him a look and he sulkily pulled back. Inside she could hear the sounds of people in for the evening – and a woman’s voice calling out to her husband to answer the door as she was cooking.
A few seconds later the door did open and Baroni was faced with a portly middle-aged man. She introduced herself and the glowering captain by her side, apologized for disturbing him that evening, then confirmed with the man that he owned the garage on the edge of the village. She clocked his slightly nervous, shifty stance when she mentioned his premises, but focused on Signoras Morelli and Spencer.
‘Did two women in their thirties visit your garage today?’ She supplemented her question with a photograph of the two sisters that she had got from the mother’s phone.
He glanced down at it and scratched his head. Squinted as if he couldn’t quite make it out. Baroni bit back her frustration, prayed Santini would keep his cool.
‘Well?’
He pulled a face, sucked in his cheeks. Frowned as he kept on looking at the phone.
If he doesn’t answer me in the next ten seconds, thought Baroni, narrowing her eyes,I’m going to have him investigated for whatever minor misdemeanour he’s hiding; fiddling the books most likely. That’s got to be at least six seconds, she thought, mentally counting.Seven, eight, ni—
‘Si, I recognize them.’
She smiled. Just before the bell! Luckily for him.
‘What did they come in for?’
‘To rent a car.’
‘I need the vehicle type and registration plate,’ said Baroni, and after the dealer had got the information, she and Captain Santini left.
TWENTY-THREE
Susanna had been awake most of the night. She lay in her bed as the light crept around the edges of the blinds, feeling her heart sink at what she knew was going to be another hot day. She’d need to stay inside; in fact, would probably have to do so for a couple of days. Her skin was still sore from lying out on the patio in the full sun the previous afternoon and her head was pounding.
She slowly swung her legs off the bed and onto the floor. She needed to get to the bathroom and, carefully pulling a towel around her for modesty, she quietly opened the door and crossed over the landing. She locked the bathroom door behind her, relieved not to have seen Matteo.
As she turned, she caught sight of her face in the mirror. It was still red, one side brighter than the other from where it had taken the full force of the sun as it had lowered across the sky. Her hair was still matted and her scalp was sore from the fall. She tentatively raised a hand to touch the wound, felt the skin raised from swelling. Tears clogged her throat but she kept them back; no point feeling sorry for herself. She stared, seeing an ugly woman in front of her. Maybe she should have gone to the hospital after all. But it had been important – no,essential– to tell the police about Abby and the danger Ellie was in. She’d needed to do that before attending to her own injuries. Whatever sacrifice it was to herself, it was worth it.
TWENTY-FOUR
From her bed Abby stared through the crack in the curtains at the bright Tuscan sky. The window was open and a gentle breeze lifted the fabric every now and then, revealing glimpses of the hills, shrouded in an early morning blue haze. It was still cool but the brightness of the sun told Abby that, as the day progressed, it would be another scorcher.
With a sense of unease, Abby wondered if her car had been found yet, and what was going on back at her home in Elba. She felt a pang for Matteo that threatened to undo her and tears began to gather in the corners of her eyes. What must he have thought when he came home the previous day? She looked longingly at the phone at the side of the bed but knew she couldn’t call him. Not yet.
Abby quietly got up so as not to wake Ellie. She showered away the fitful night’s sleep, then as she got dressed she checked the time – it was early, not quite seven. But that meant it wouldn’t be long before the buffet downstairs opened, and she could kill for a cup of coffee.
Leaving Ellie asleep, Abby padded quietly down the stairs. In the dining room, the tables from the night before were remade with fresh linen. All stood empty. A long table running down the side of the room was filled with breads, pastries, cheese and cereal. Abby’s nose twitched at the smell of coffee and she poured herself a cup and added milk. As she took a sip, the owner of thepensionecame in with a plate of fresh figs, which he placed on the table. He wished her abuongiornobefore leaving again.
Abby’s attention was drawn to the corner of the room, where a TV was mounted on the wall. It was switched on; a stylishly dressed pair of presenters sat on a sofa, hosting a breakfast news show. She listened to the musical inflections of their language – her Italian was improving but she was still a long way off being fluent. They seemed to be discussing a political issue but she couldn’t quite make it all out. Then they took a pause before launching into the next item. Eyes fixed to the screen, Abby almost dropped her cup in horror. She was looking at her own face, Ellie by her side. A fixed smile on their faces as they obeyed Susanna’s request to have their photo taken in the restaurant they’d had lunch in only the day before. The newsreader was saying they were missing, that they had left Elba sometime yesterday afternoon and the police wanted to talk to them.
Abby flung her cup onto the nearest table and raced upstairs. She burst into the room just as Ellie was surfacing.
‘What’s happened?’ asked Ellie, still half asleep, nervous at Abby’s anxiety.
‘We need to leave,’ said Abby, starting to stuff Ellie’s things back into her suitcase. She threw over a dress, which Ellie caught. ‘Get dressed.’
‘What? Can’t I have a shower first?’
