Cassie headed into the bistro, relieved to find shelter from the gusty rain. The interior smelled deliciously of coffee and bread, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten today. A massive chrome cappuccino machine stood in pride of place on the wooden counter.
There was space for only four tables inside, and all of them were occupied. There was an empty seat at the bar, though, so she sat there.
The harassed-looking waiter rushed over to her.
“Cosa prendi?” he asked.
Cassie guessed he wanted to take her order.
“Sorry, I don’t speak Italian,” she apologized, hoping he understood her. “Do you know who owned the shop next door?”
The young man shrugged, looking puzzled.
“I can bring you food?” he asked in broken English.
Realizing that the language barrier had brought an end to her questioning, Cassie quickly scanned the menu scribbled on the black chalkboard on the back wall.
“Coffee, please. And a panini.”
She peeled some notes from the shrinking stash in her wallet. The prices in Milan were even higher than she’d expected, but it was getting late and she was starving.
“You are Americana?” the man sitting next to her asked.
Impressed, Cassie nodded.
“Yes, I am.”
“My name is Vadim,” he introduced himself.
He didn’t sound Italian, but her ear for accents was not nearly as good as his. She guessed he might be from somewhere in Eastern Europe, or perhaps even Russia.
“I’m Cassie Vale,” she replied.
He looked to be a few years older than her, which put him in his late twenties, and he was wearing a leather jacket and jeans. In front of him was a half-finished glass of red wine.
“You are on holiday here? Or working, studying?” he asked.
“I’ve actually traveled here to find somebody.”
The confession felt painful, now that Cassie feared she never would.
His thick brows drew together in a frown.
“How do you mean, find? Find someone in particular?”
“Yes. My sister.”
“You make it sound as if she is lost?” he asked.
“She is. I followed a clue which I hoped would help me find her. A while ago, she called my friend in the States, and we traced the number.”
“So you traced the caller ID and came here? That is some detective work,” Vadim said admiringly, as the waiter slid her coffee across the counter.
“No, I was too slow. You see, she called twice looking for me. The first number didn’t work at all. I only realized last week that the other call might have been made from a different number.”
Vadim nodded sympathetically.
“And now, Cartoleria is closed,” Cassie told him.
“The shop next door?”
“Yes. That was where she phoned from. I’m hoping to find out who owned it.”
He frowned.
“I know Cartoleria is a chain of stores. There are others elsewhere in Milan. It is an Internet café and sells—pens, pencils, those items.”
“Stationery,” Cassie suggested.
“Yes, that is it. Perhaps if you call another store, they could help you find the manager of this one.”
The waiter returned and set a plate down in front of her, and Cassie dug in hungrily.
“You have traveled here all alone?” Vadim asked.
“Yes, I came here on my own, hoping to find Jacqui.”
“Why are you the one looking for her, and she is not looking for you, too?”
“We had a difficult childhood,” she told him. “My mother died when she was young and my father didn’t cope without her. He became very angry, as if he wanted to destroy everyone’s lives.”
Vadim nodded sympathetically.
“Jacqui was older than me, and one day, she just left. I don’t think she could handle it anymore. His anger, the shouting, broken glass on the floor most mornings. He had many different girlfriends, and there were often strangers in the house.”
A dark memory surfaced of herself, hiding under the bed late at night, listening to heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and the fumbling at her door. Jacqui had saved her. She’d screamed so loud that the neighbors had come running, and the man had sneaked back down the stairs. Cassie remembered the terror she’d felt as she’d heard him rattle the bedroom door. Jacqui had been her protector, until she’d run away.
“After she left, I moved out, and then my dad got evicted and had to find different lodgings. I got a new phone. He got a new phone. There was no way for her to contact us again. Now I think she’s trying to reach out. But she’s scared, and I don’t know why. Perhaps she thinks I’ll be angry because she ran away.”
Vadim shook his head.
“So you are all alone in the world?”
Cassie nodded, feeling sad all over again.
“Can I buy you a glass of wine?”
Cassie shook her head.
“Thanks so much, but I have to drive.”
Her car was a forty-five-minute walk away. From there, she had no idea where to go. She’d made no plans for accommodations. She’d been hoping to arrive earlier, and that the shop would provide a clue to Jacqui’s whereabouts, and she could then take the next step in her search. Now it was dark, and she had no idea where an affordable inn or hostel might be. She realized she might end up sleeping in her car, in the concrete parking garage.
“Have you accommodations for tonight?” Vadim asked, as if reading her mind.
Cassie shook her head.
“I still have to figure that out.”
“There is a backpacker lodge close by. A pensione, as they say here in Italy. It might be convenient for you. I pass it on my way home; I can show you where it is.”
Cassie smiled tentatively, worried about the price and also the fact that all her luggage was still in her car. Even so, accommodations nearby sounded more appealing than the long walk back to the parking lot. There was even a chance Jacqui might have stayed in those lodgings, in which case she should at least check it out.
She drained her coffee and ate the last crumbs of her panini, while Vadim finished his wine and sent some messages on his phone.
“Come with me. This way.”
It was still raining outside,
