Alessandra Torre - End of the Innocence

Their family had too many enemies, the possibilities for who had taken her too great. But the logic behind it was questionable. He had assumed she was safe as his fiancée; he had been slack in protection coverage because it made no sense for another family to cause her harm. Once married to him, as time progressed and different families warred with the Magianos, there would be times when their life would be at greater risk than others. Diminished risk, since he was estranged from the family, but risk all the same. But right now was a time of peace, everyone coloring inside the lines and minding their own business. For a family to make waves and take a woman, a woman on her wedding day, one who was marrying an estranged member of the most powerful crime family in the city ... the elements were all wrong.

It could be a random crime, one of thousands that occurred each week in the city. Young, attractive women disappeared every day, most never to resurface, sold in the sex trade or killed and disposed of. Another possibility, one he had fought with, defended against entry to his mind, was that his family was involved. The shepherd eliminating new sheep from entrance to the flock. That should not be a possibility. His father had promised to leave her alone, and had never broken a promise before. In their family, their word was everything. That was why he typically despised the words coming out of his father’s mouth. Because they were ugly in their truth, indicative of his father’s real and rotten nature. Now, with that history of truth, he refused to believe that his father threw away a lifetime of ‘honor’ over one twenty-two year old girl.

Then again, Julia had disrespected him. Stood her ground and spoke to him in a manner no one else had dared in over three decades. Anyone who had was now dead. She had been a slap in his face from the moment she had entered his life. They had, with this marriage, forced his acceptance of her. And Dom Magiano didn’t like to be forced into anything. So, with all that considered, maybe he had acted. Maybe he had thrown his honor aside for a slice of vengeance. Brad sent a silent prayer upward, making promises he couldn’t keep, trying to bribe The One who couldn’t be bribed. Anything to get her back. Anything.

My feet tired first, not from the exercise, but from injury. They were raw, dirt caking into cuts from gravel, rough cement, and small pebbles on pavement. I ran on sidewalks when I could, stopping frequently to hide when a car passed. I needed to find a minivan—a minivan driven by an overweight soccer mom with three adorable kids, preferably listening to Christian music. But minivans didn’t pass through this part of town. This was the area of truck stops, seedy gas stations, lumberyards, and warehouses. At one point I saw a cab, two blocks over, moving slowly through the streets, its top light off. I hesitated, then let it pass. Paranoia dominated my thoughts, every person, car, and business a trap, designed to catch me and deliver me back to those who wished me harm. To make everything worse, my headache, dull when I had woken, was now a full-fledged jackhammer, the pain causing occasional spots in my vision and a piercing pain when I would lean over to rest. I had vomited twice, the horrible aftertaste residing in my dry mouth, and was thirsty, my throat and body begging for liquid of some sort. I eyed puddles as I passed, their dark pools dotted with oil and waste, cursing the lack of public water fountains in industrial areas. In addition to my head and my feet, my shoulder throbbed, every swing of my arms stretching a muscle that screamed in response. There was a bandage there, the adhesive on its edges pulling on my skin, and my mind itched with the desire to pull it off, to reveal whatever it was that it hid. But I didn’t. I ran, I hid, I ran, and I thirsted.

I headed toward the sound of quiet, heading away from the noise of the highway, hoping to find a residential area, a place of libraries, well-kept homes with flower boxes, supermarkets, and joggers equipped with cell phones. I would call Brad’s cell, wary of the police after learning of their corruption. I saw movement, the bumper of a car rolling out of an upcoming side street and immediately veered, my speed increasing as I moved down the side of a building, worried that I wouldn’t reach its end before the car passed. Or, that I would turn the corner and run into a group of thugs, trading one danger for another. I held my breath as I sprinted around the corner, hearing the rumble of engine as the car traveled down the street, my feet disappearing from sight just in time. Then I skidded to a stop as my eyes raced frantically over the scene before me.

Two vehicles. Alarming. I would have preferred an empty lot, no strangers. In this area, every individual was a potential foe, my mind not trusting anyone. I searched frantically for any sign of the car’s owners. I listened to the street behind me, and ducked behind the first car, my eyes flitting over and then focusing on a green hose, coiled on the floor beside a parking bay. Water. The hose glowed, like a spotlight was focused on it, and everything else faded to gray. I crawled behind the second car, a green truck jacked up on off-road tires, neon yellow shocks blocking my view of the building. I exhaled slowly, listening for danger, then ran, loose gravel kicked up by my raw bare feet, a few hitting the truck behind me. Water. My sole focus followed that hose, the nozzle mounted on the side of the building and my hands reached for it greedily, turning the handle rapidly and hearing the perfect, orgasmic sound of water flowing from its end. I grabbed it, pressing it directly against my open mouth, grains of dirt mixing with the initial flow, the hot water pouring down my throat in a powerful stream, too much for me to take, and I lifted my mouth briefly, gulping in air and fighting a cough, swallowing the water and pausing before lowering my mouth to the hose. This time I was more careful, sipping from the stream, the liquid turning cool, tasting better than it ever had, my starved body drinking it like it would never stop, a need that would never be fulfilled.

I finally stopped, my hand stumbling over the wall until it reached the handle and turned, the hose going limp in my hand. My stomach was physically engorged, a round ball of liquid, and I felt sleepy, my mind turning on me, becoming a drugged machine that performed at half-speed. I crawled, on my hands and knees, finding a space between the dumpster and a fence, and laid down, not minding the unyielding feel of parking lot beneath my body. At that moment, with my belly full and the weight of my body no longer carried by my feet, I was beyond content. Encased in a dumpster shield of privacy, I felt safe and secure enough to briefly close my eyes and rest.

“What do you think is really going on?” Becca played with a string on her dress, sitting on the back porch of Brad De Luca’s house. Olivia leaned against a porch column, staring out on the back yard, which was a picture of romance, white flowers and candles floating through the lit pool, dusk falling gently over the space.

“I’ve told you what I think. I think she changed her mind. It’s the right decision.”

“Fuck off, O. Stop being a bitch and push your opinion of their relationship to the side.” Becca’s tone was strong, and Olivia glanced up in surprise.

“Jesus, what’s gotten your panties in a twist?”

“She’s missing, Olivia. The police found her phone smashed into bits, she’s been gone since last night, and you don’t even seem to care!”

Olivia said nothing, bumping the column with her shoe. “So what are you saying, Becca? You think she’s dead? You think someone else sent you that text?”

“I don’t know what to think. I just know she wouldn’t disappear like this. Her missing the makeup appointment was one thing. But this long? And the smashed phone? She wanted to marry Brad; I know she did. Julia’s not flaky and she wouldn’t scare her parents like this, you know that.”

“But who would have taken her? Luke?”

“Are you kidding me? The worst thing he’d do is hug her to death. Brad asked me about him earlier. I can’t see him doing this. Showing up at the wedding, yes. But he doesn’t even know where she lives. She’d just yell at him, and he’d leave her alone.”

“Yeah,” Olivia said quietly. “But why would anyone else hurt her?”

“I don’t know? She’s young, she’s hot, she’s about to be loaded? Maybe it’s someone with an issue with Brad. Someone he lost a case to.”

“It’s easier for me to think she just got cold feet, Becca. I don’t want to think about anything else.” Olivia pushed away from the column, stepping into the house and closing the door behind her.

♦♦♦

There were several times in a man’s life when his world changed. Often this change happened without incident or recognition—a chance meeting of a woman who ended up becoming his wife, a new job that led to a change in destiny. With Brad, his life-changing moments were very clear.

The morning that his mother left, leaving behind nothing but a short note and the scent of her perfume.

The moment he walked out of his father’s colossal mansion, separating himself from his family—The Family.

The moment that, at the possibility of losing Julia, he realized that he loved her, and found true happiness for the first time in his life.

And now. Now, the moment where she was lost, and his world might forever end. He would not survive without her, that fact was certain in his mind. If she were to leave him, yes, he would survive knowing she was happy. But if she were killed, snatched while fighting and screaming for his help ... well, he would never forgive himself.

He gripped his phone tightly in his hand, willing it to ring, willing her to be safe, willing the brave, strong woman who had his fragile heart tightly in her capable hands to return to him.

♦♦♦

In a Holiday Inn, two miles from Brad, the Campbells resorted to the only thing they knew. Prayer. They prayed, they argued, they prayed some more.

Then, with no clear idea what to do, they got in the car and headed north. Made a few wrong turns, checked their phones incessantly, then finally arrived. Pulled their car into Brad’s driveway and parked. Martha opened the door before they could knock.

“Come on in. I’ve been cooking, don’t know what else to do. Brad also asked me to prepare the guest room. He’s not worth speaking to at the moment, but I’ll do everything I can to make you comfortable.” She held open the door, gesturing for them to come in, and bit back tears when Julia’s mom threw herself into her arms.

The two men watched the surveillance tape, fast-forwarding grainy footage, jerky movements zipping by in black-and-white detail. Hunched together in the small electronics closet, the hum of machinery on all sides, the air grew hot quickly. The two men didn’t move, didn’t wipe the sweat as it ran down their faces. They stared, intent on their task, their eyes glued to the small screen before them.

“Stop. Play from there.”

The footage showed a hallway, a man closing a door and walking away from the camera, his steps relaxed and unhurried.

“That’s me. That’s when I left to ditch the phone. I’m pulling out my cell right there.”

“Okay. Keep watching.”

They sat in complete silence, the clock in the bottom of the video counting slowly through the minutes, neither man moving an inch. Thirteen minutes passed, then they stiffened, watching the doorknob twitch, then still. Then the door swung open, and a girl burst into view. They watched in silence as she ran down the hall, out of view of the cam.

“Switch screens.”

Fingers clicked, screens flickered, and they watched in silence as the upper showroom revealed the close encounter, the girl hiding while the man strolled by. Then, her escape through the front doors.

“Fuck. Better call the boss. He ain’t gonna be pleased about this.”

“No shit, man. No shit.”

♦♦♦

Dom Magiano sat alone in his bedroom, in a chair by the window. He stared, unmoving, at the trees, their palms swaying in the breeze. When the call came, his hand was already on the receiver, and he lifted it to his ear without speaking.

The voice’s subdued tone came through the line with specks of frustration dotting the words. “We don’t know where she is.”