She leaves the food with me, and I’m munching on crostini and marinated mozzarella before that sensation of dread returns to me.
“Nothing makes sense,” I mumble, still chewing on my food.
I call Jen again, and my call goes unanswered.
This time, I keep calling her, getting more and more frustrated with every unanswered call.
She finally answers her phone, panting. I don’t have the chance to speak. She does it first.
“He’s looking for Tina,” she mutters, sounding like she’s sprinting.
I slide the plate onto the nightstand.
“What?? Who’s looking for Tina?” I ask.
Muffled sounds come from the other end of the phone line, suggesting a struggle, and it could be anything. People trying to yank her phone out of her hand or attack her.
Their words are muffled, yet there’s a scuffle.
Men bark orders, and I hear her screaming in the background before going silent, and her phone goes dead, too.
I’m livid.
Unable to breathe, I look at my phone. Should I call her again?
I’m doing it, knowing full well there is no point.
A busy signal comes from the other end of the line before I try again, and some recorded message tells me the phone has been disconnected.
That ignites a storm of panicked thoughts in my head.
I set myself in motion and call Damaso’s name while running through the house.
Suddenly, no one is here. Not Maria or Luigi.
I sprint down the stairs, check the kitchen and dining room, and zip out the door, going straight to the guesthouse.
No one is here either.
Trembling, I go back to the house and find Maria sorting the jam jars in a storage room in the back.
On any other day, this would’ve been my favorite thing to watch, but right now, I can’t speak fast enough.
“Where is Damaso?”
She turns to me.
“I think they all went to the village,” she says just as Luigi enters the room holding half a dozen jars.
“Is he meeting someone?” I ask.
They look at one another.
“Like a business meeting,” I say.
She shakes her head, baffled.
“I don’t know. Why? What happened?”
