Cassie took the business card from Nina and put it carefully in her purse.
“I’ll write you, too,” she promised. “I’m not sure where I’m heading next, but I’ll send you photos. I’ll miss you a lot, but I’m glad that you’re going to be living with your papa.”
She hugged both the girls hard before heading to her car. As she drove out, she saw them watching her and waving.
As she zigzagged her way through the streets, fragments of half-remembered dreams came back to Cassie. She’d slept badly and had been troubled by recurring nightmares. An endless staircase flashed into her mind, with a body slumped at the bottom. In her dream, she hadn’t pushed the person down, though. Jacqui had.
Alive and well, her sister had stepped forward and deliberately shoved the person—it had been a woman—down that impossibly steep staircase, and had watched it tumble and fall all the way down. Then she’d turned to Cassie and smiled.
“That’s how we stay safe in this house,” she’d said.
The weird thing was that part of this scenario didn’t feel like a dream. It felt as if a memory, long buried, had been unlocked in Cassie’s mind, but try as she might, she couldn’t recall any more of it.
Jacqui’s situation had been pushed to the back of her mind during the Rossi family debacle. There simply hadn’t been space in her head to think about it. But now, with a clear mind, Cassie found her worry growing with every mile she drove.
She’d traveled to Italy hoping to find Jacqui. Now, she was about to learn what had happened to her sister.
If she had died, Cassie resolved she would demand details. If there was more to the story, she wanted that information, too. She wasn’t going to settle for anything less and she certainly was not going to accept being given the brush-off by somebody who was covering the truth for their own reasons.
As the sun rose, the suburban landscape gave way to hills and fields, and she saw signboards for her destination.
There was so much at stake here, and she couldn’t bear to think that it had reached a point where the answer was only a short drive ahead. Was Jacqui dead or alive? Had the boutique owner lied, and if so why? How was Cassie going to drill down to the truth when other people might have pressing reasons for wanting her to believe their version?
“Please, let me find out what happened,” she said aloud, hoping that her words would somehow attract the outcome she needed.
Bellagio was as scenic as Cassie had thought it would be. In fact, the pictures on the Internet had not done it justice. Cradled among imposing mountains, nestled on the azure shores of Lake Como, the town itself was a storybook destination. Compact and picturesque, every turn of the narrow roads brought a different, incredible view.
Cassie wished she wasn’t too nervous to appreciate its beauty.
She found Mirabella’s easily, on the northern side of the town’s main shopping street, which was packed with bistros and restaurants, coffee shops, and clothing stores and gift kiosks.
It was nine o’clock in the morning, and the streets were still quiet, with most of the stores just starting to open their doors for the day.
Cassie parked nearby and walked down the cobbled street to the boutique. She felt a sense of unreality, treading over the same gray, flat stones that Jacqui had done, seeing the same view, breathing in the same fresh, cold air. Jacqui had worked here and lived here. Cassie wished she knew whether her sister had been happy in her work, or whether she been depressed. Had things gone wrong, here in this place, to an extent where Jacqui had believed they could never be right again? For a terrible moment, she feared that this was where Jacqui’s childhood trauma had caught up with her and she had chosen to end her own life.
She dreaded the news that would await her in this small, scenic town. She had no idea if Mirabella had been lying or not, and if she had, whether she would agree to tell her the truth. Once people had lied, Cassie knew they often clung to their story, and it became their new reality. She had to accept that she might never find out what had really happened to her sister—or worse, she might have to take in the unbearable details of how she had died.
Feeling sick with nerves, Cassie walked up to the boutique’s entrance.
Mirabella’s was open. The tiny store was packed with merchandise, seeming to specialize in tops and dresses. Each piece looked beautiful and unique, and Cassie was sure that it was priced accordingly.
Behind the counter stood a short woman with graying hair, wearing gold-rimmed glasses, and a peach-colored top with gold brocade.
“Buongiorno,” she greeted Cassie with a smile.
Cassie approached hesitantly. Her mouth felt dry, and she wondered if she’d be able to get the words out at all.
Her first attempt was no more than a nervous croak. Her heart was pounding as hard as if she’d run the whole way up this steep, cobbled street.
Clearing her throat she tried again.
“Are you by any chance the owner, Mirabella?”
The woman’s forehead creased slightly, and Cassie could see her thinking that this was probably going to be some kind of a complaint, or specialized request. Either way, a difficult customer.
“I am, yes. How can I help you?”
“My sister worked here. Jacqui Vale. I called a few days ago to ask about her. You told me—”
Cassie paused, gathering the courage she needed to say the awful words.
“You told me she’d died. So I came here, because I needed to find out if it was true. And, if it is, I want you to tell me what happened. I am her family and I deserve to know.”
She found herself blinking tears away as she met Mirabella’s astounded gaze.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
For
