Code of Silence (5 page)

“I don't know, and I don't want to think about it. It's hard enough to focus on reading my mom's journal without reminders that we're really not safe in the safe room.”

His lips formed a grim line. “Understood.”

That feeling she remembered from college returned. Peace, even if temporary, relaxed her shoulders. Luke had a way of making her feel like she was acting reasonable, even when logically she knew she wasn't. He listened...he empathized. He made her feel calm despite the storm surrounding her. “Thank you,” she said. “If I remember anything, I'll say.”

He gave her an encouraging grin. She opened to the first page. Her mother's familiar script lined the pages.

I'm so hopeful to give this baby the life she deserves. At church today they read a Bible verse in Philippians about forgetting about the past and pressing on. There was more to it, but just the reminder that I can leave my past behind and focus on my future as a mom gives me hope. Maybe I can be the woman—the mom—God desires me to be, even though if you'd asked me a year ago I would've thought it impossible.

Gabriella's fingers drifted across the page. “I've read this before.”

“You have?” Luke lifted his arms while raised on his tiptoes and grabbed a plastic storage container. He lowered it to the ground and faced her. A sudden high-pitched growl erupted from the other side of the wall. His eyes widened. “I can't imagine how loud that had to be out there if we can hear it through the steel.”

“Another broken drill bit?”

“That'd be my guess.” He dropped to a knee and flipped the latches holding the top of the container down. “You've read your mother's diary before?” he asked again.

“Yes.” Her cheeks heated. Nothing like revealing every horrible thing about herself, and her family, to a guy. “But I think she knew I peeked sometimes. All her entries are very vague except for the scriptures she loved. Those she'd go on and on about in detail. Or at least she did early on in it.” Her eyes lingered on her mom's first words, wishing she could have the woman who penned them. Her eyes welled. “I thought she wrote about the Bible verses for my benefit. Except, now if it's true...if my mom had a life in the mafia—” She stopped and pressed a hand to her closed eyelids. She wouldn't let herself cry. “It has a different meaning.”

“We don't know that yet. Don't give up hope.”

The sound of the lid popping open snapped her out of it. “What's in there? More clothes?”

Luke grinned as he reached inside. “A flashlight, bottled water—” he tossed a twenty-ounce bottle to her “—blankets, granola bars.” He frowned and pulled out a dangling Pinocchio wooden puppet and a ten-inch doll dressed in a traditional Sicilian costume. “Were these yours?”

Gabriella moved to a kneeling position. “I think they used to be my mom's toys, but I did play with them once.”

He pulled out a canister of pepper spray, his expression hopeful. “You think this still works?”

She reached past his outstretched arms and picked up a granola bar. “Check the expiration date.”

He twisted the can and squinted at the small print. “Three years old.”

“Then, no.”

He gave her a side glance. “I can't imagine it wouldn't still be effective even after the expiration date.”

“Oh, it'd still be potent, but that's not the problem. It's the aerosol spray part. After the expiration, there is a higher probability it'll get clogged.” She opened the wrapper to the bar. “Not worth the risk. The last thing we need is to pepper spray ourselves.”

She could feel his eyes studying her. “How'd you know that?” he asked.

“Mom sent me with pepper spray to college. She never did anything without making sure she had all the facts. She was the queen of preparation, and she made sure I was, as well.” The metal screeching sound started up again. She jerked and accidentally brushed against his arm. The touch made her long for a hug, but she didn't want to send mixed signals—or worse, open herself up for rejection. No doubt he was wishing she'd never stepped into his office. “Clock is ticking, Luke. We need to get out of here.”

“I'm aware.” He ran a hand through his still-damp golden hair. It spiked up. “I've checked the walls and the tops of the shelves. I don't know what else we can do.”

Her stomach grew hot and heavy as if her veins pumped molten lead. “You're not implying we should give up and wait to die? To let my aunt die?”

SIX

L
uke gritted his teeth. An unseen vacuum in his chest made his rib cage seem hollow with the pure frustration of not being able to fix things. His memory taunted him with what he should have done differently, both years ago and today, but that wouldn't help them now. “You know I'm not implying we give up, Gabriella.”

He sat back on the floor and joined her in eating a granola bar. He huffed. “I had hoped to take you to dinner tonight to catch up.” He held up the stale bar of oats. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”

Gabriella put a hand on her chest. “You wanted to go to dinner?”

He couldn't read if she was just surprised or concerned. “Yeah, we used to be good friends. I regret not staying in touch.”

Her shoulders dropped, as if relieved. Luke wished she looked more eager. He needed to focus on the here and now before he embarrassed himself. “Let's put our heads together. We've been avoiding the obvious—who might notice we're missing? Anyone expecting to hear from you or meet you tonight?” He steeled himself for the answer.

Her eyes turned downcast. “No. I wish. I've only been in town since the funeral. My friends and I were going to get together Sunday night. I don't think we can last two more days in here.” Her eyes drifted to the ceiling. “Well, we could, but my aunt—” She inhaled sharply.

Luke recognized the signs of shock. She was going to crumble if he didn't help keep her focused. “No one else would be trying to call you? Get in touch? No appointments or...uh...boyfriend?” The question slipped out before he could stop himself. Luke grabbed another granola bar. Who was stress eating now?

“No. Sad, right? I'm a strong introvert, you know.”

He grinned. “I remember. It always struck me funny how you knew you wanted to teach—standing in front of all those students—yet hated to go out to big events.”

She shrugged. “It's the introvert's way. Teaching or speaking is totally different than interacting with other people...especially strangers.” She broke off another hunk of the granola bar with her fingers. “What about you? An extrovert like yourself should have lots of people expecting you.”

He could see the anticipation in her eyes. He raised an eyebrow, not expecting she'd volley the question back at him. Too bad his answer would only disappoint her. “I had a chili cook-off at the church I planned to attend, but no one is going to blink if I don't show up.”

She leaned forward, her mouth parted, her eyes wide. “What about your receptionist? Won't she expect you to check back in?”

He groaned. “She's a temp. So no, I told her to leave as soon as she was done...as I imagine she did quite a while ago.”

“Drives me crazy we don't have any way to judge what time it is.” Gabriella jumped up to standing and paced back and forth. “I wish he'd stop drilling. I can't think straight knowing he's so determined.” She halted her step. “No girlfriend?”

He fought to keep a smile off his face. “No.”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “Have you, uh...dated since you and
Rose
broke up?” She scrunched up her nose. “I'm sorry. I don't know why I said her name like that.”

“Because she hurt you,” he said. Rose had stolen her fiancé, and it's what Gabriella would remember every time she set her eyes on Luke. He should've known.

“And
you
.”

“Yes, but it's been a long time. It stung a lot, but it doesn't bother me anymore. I'm pretty sure they got married and divorced soon after.”

“Cheaters never win,” she muttered.

He raised an eyebrow. “But I think Thad remarried soon after.”

She cocked her head and shook her hand in the air. “I don't care. I wouldn't be interested in him anyway. I'm just thankful I saw his true colors before I sent out wedding invitations.”

Luke hated how relieved that little statement made him feel.

Gabriella resumed her pacing. “What about your family? You have like a ton of brothers, right?”

Luke gulped. For a split second, he thought she was thinking about marrying one of his brothers. Why did women change subjects so fast? She no doubt was referring to who would notice he was missing. “Yeah, but none of them live around here. They're all in California and Oregon. I've been trying to talk Matt into moving here once he's done with school.”

He held out his palms. He could tell he'd disappointed her. “I'm afraid no one is going to be looking for me.” The words hit him in the gut. It was true. No one would notice. In college he'd been all about developing close friendships, but ever since he started his own business, he felt he had something to prove. Work was his highest priority.

Home was his office. He slept in whatever furnished, model home was most current in order to be close to the subdivision process. He needed to make sure they stayed on schedule and supervise the foreman, which triggered a memory. “Believe it or not, my brother David and my sister-in-law, Aria, faced the mafia last year. The Russian mafia, in fact.” He shook his head. “Wish we could call him now.”

Gabriella's mouth dropped. “How'd they fare?”

He almost bragged on his brother's ingenuity but didn't want to rub in the fact that David was so resourceful, while Luke sat stuck in a safe room with no ideas. “They were saved by the authorities, eventually.” He leveled a heavy gaze on her.

She rolled her eyes. “If my aunt Freddie's life wasn't in danger this wouldn't be an argument. I'd gladly risk my own reputation, but I'm not risking her life.”

“What do you mean your reputation?”

She picked up the diary and flipped through the pages with an angry carelessness. “Apparently the Mirabella family sent in a so-called anonymous donation that can be easily traced back to them. They thought they needed an added threat to discredit my nonprofit to keep them in line.” She held up a finger. “See? That just proves they have the wrong family. If they knew my mother at all, they'd have known that she wouldn't have given a threat like that the time of day and neither would I.”

She shivered. A chill ran up Luke's spine as well. “It's getting cold in here,” she whispered.

Luke strained his ears. The drilling had stopped a moment ago. “He's trying to freeze us out.” He grabbed the red velour throw out of the storage container and draped it across her shoulders. She looked up and smiled. Her eyes and whole face lit the room when she smiled, and he was struck with a desire to kiss her. The mere thought jolted him upright.

He reached for the vent on the ground next to the dresser and slid the lever so it would close. Air still hissed through the closed slats. “And if we weren't in a closet full of blankets and dry clothes Rodrigo might've succeeded.” He frowned. “You know what I don't get? What if there was a fire? Wouldn't your mom have wanted another exit?”

She pointed upward. Nothing remained on the shelving unit above Gabriella's head except a bright red fire extinguisher. “And there's a fire safety ladder underneath my bed,” she said. “Besides, I don't think fire could get through these walls.”

“It's not flames I'm worried about, it's the smoke.” He rose on his tiptoes to see above the shelf. “I thought I saw a vent up there. Did your mom opt for the separate ventilation system?”

She threw up her hands. “I wish I knew. Your guess is as good as mine.”

Luke tried to imagine how he'd feel in her position. The grief alone would probably be his undoing. He couldn't fathom wrestling with an alternate identity. Putting himself in her shoes only increased the frustration instead of prompting ideas to help.

Trapped. Caged.
The words floated through his mind. He closed his eyes to calm and pictured an open field and exhaled slowly until his heart slowed slightly. Staying busy seemed the best option for the moment. “If you don't know, let's find out. If Rodrigo's smart enough to try to freeze us out, he might be smart enough to try to gas us out through the air ducts.”

Her eyes widened. “With what?”

“I don't know.” He should've kept his big mouth closed. He wondered what kind of chemicals might be on the property and whether the furnace operated off natural gas or electricity, but Gabriella didn't need another thing to worry about. “I'm sure we're fine. The developer in me just wants to know how she set up the room. It may give me an idea on how to get out.”

He grabbed the bottom dresser drawer and flipped it over, dumping out the contents. “I just need a little boost.” He stepped on it but his fingers only grazed the wall past the shelf. He stepped down to find Gabriella had already flipped over another drawer to stack.

“It won't be steady,” she said. “I'll try to spot you.”

He laughed. “I don't recommend that. If I fell on you, you'd snap in two.”

Her dark eyes flashed. “I'm made of tougher stuff than that.” He tried not to smile as she repeated the same words he'd said in the lake. She stood out of the way, though.

This time, he could reach the vent, where a separate system could be attached. His hands felt no air rushing through it. Maybe he needed to activate it, and that would shut down the main one? If only he could ask his brother David. Luke pulled on the grate and it easily slipped out. “Flashlight, please?”

She slipped the cold metal into his outstretched hand. He flicked the flashlight on and aimed it inside the vent. It stretched about sixteen inches until another metal sheet closed it off. Great. “She didn't opt for the extra system.”

“Well, if she made this place for burglars she probably didn't think they'd be smart enough to mess with gassing us out.”

The beam did catch something though. Stacks of paper? His jaw dropped. Money? He reached for it, his nails catching the paper straps that held the piles together.

Shifting on his tiptoes, he grasped it...and the dresser drawer below his feet shifted. The flashlight and the cash flew out of his hands. He grasped the top of the shelf but his fingertips didn't hold. He dropped. His thigh hit the edge of the drawer. A howl escaped him as he rolled off and squeezed the area around his wound.

“Are you okay?”

He nodded, despite the fire spreading up his hip. Had he ripped his wound back open? Cash floated down like confetti all around him. He gritted his teeth and the pain lessened to a throbbing. No moisture, so maybe the Steri-Strips managed to hold. He lifted his left hand, palm out, and a hundred-dollar bill floated to a rest. Assuming they were all Benjamin Franklins, there had to be upward of thirty thousand dollars in cash in the room.

Gabriella's face paled. “It's true, then.” Her head dropped into her hands. “My mom was in the mafia.”