Dark Justice by Kristi Belcamino (smallest ebook reader .txt) 📗

I’d learned, once something was online, it would never truly disappear. I accessed the old account and realized it was Charles’s mother’s. She had died four years earlier. She had tons of pictures of him as an opera singer. And she had pictures of Nicoletta and Charles together all through high school.

So, Nicoletta and Charles were high school sweethearts.

Then I saw something that made me sit up straighter.

Four years ago. Right before the woman died. A picture of Charles and Nicoletta on a beach in a tropical location. The woman had written: My greatest wish is for these two to finally marry and make me a grandma. I now realize I won’t be around for it, but they have both promised to make this a reality so I can finally die in peace.”

I leaned back against the van wall. Holy fuck.

There was so much to take in about this revelation.

Charles and Nicoletta.

Were a thing. But Charles had been with Oliver Hollingsworth.

And he and Nicoletta seemed just fine.

Sure, there was a chance they’d parted ways amicably, and Nicoletta gave her blessing to his relationship with Oliver, but I somehow doubted it. If Charles had recently come out of the closet, would he be with Oliver or some other hot young guy? Maybe. I just didn’t know.

It seemed more likely that Charles was fucking Oliver for his money.

I decided the first thing to do after I took a nap would be to do some reconnaissance on Charles and Nicoletta.

I crawled into the sleeping bag and closed my eyes. When I opened them again the sun was setting. Shit. So much for a quick nap.

I dug through the duffel bag that Tony had left in the corner. I pulled on a thick, military-style wool turtleneck, a thick wool pea coat, and black stocking cap. I pulled these on, tucking my hair inside the hat and pulling the jacket collar up around my neck.

I was pretty sure I looked like a dude. Perfect. Then I got behind the wheel and started the van, grateful as heat began to pour out the vents. I’d stop and get a huge cup of coffee at an out-of-the-way gas station and then head to the address I’d found for Nicoletta.

Thirty-Seven

The gas station clerk probably thought I was going to rob him when I walked in, because between the black stocking cap, big sunglasses, and my coat collar pulled up to my cheekbones, I was obviously trying to disguise my face.

But I didn’t want any cameras to be able to identify me.

If someone had the tech savvy to create a Deepfake video of me, who knows if they were able to tap into facial recognition software on the underground network of cameras filming through the city.

Armed with a large coffee and some snacks, I headed toward Nicoletta’s place in the Richmond District for my stakeout. It was now dark. There was a chance it would be a bust. She might have turned in for the night, and I’d stare at her house as she slept peacefully through the night. That was okay. I had to do something. I would go crazy if I didn’t at least feel like I was trying to figure it all out.

I parked across the street from the apartment building and then approached the door. Nobody was around. I scanned the names on the doorbells. N. Marchese. Bingo. But it didn’t say what floor or apartment number. This might be more of a fool’s errand than I realized.

After I crossed the street and was about to get back in the van, I scanned the bank of windows facing the street. Then I walked further down to look at the side of the building. It appeared the apartments ran the length of the building from front to back. As I was standing there, a cab pulled up in front of the building. I shrank into the shadows.

It was a young man who stumbled out of the cab and loudly thanked the driver. Then he was inside, and the street was quiet again.

Back in the van, I took a chance and kept it running to keep the heat on. A thick bank of fog had rolled in and hovered just above the street lights, making the temperature drop dramatically. Even with the pea coat and heater on, I was cold.

I was yawning and sipping the last dregs of my coffee when another car pulled up.

A strawberry blonde wearing a fur coat stepped out.

Nicoletta.

Quickly, she stepped inside the front door.

I got out of the van so I could see which apartment window lit up.

Light turned in a window on the second floor. I could see Nicoletta shed her coat and lean over a small table.

I was about to cross the street when I noticed the car that had dropped her off was slowly rolling down the street. Fuck.

As I ducked behind the van, the car, a small black sedan, parked.

The driver got out.

Charles.

Perfect.

I watched as he walked over to the front door and let himself in with a key. I waited a beat and then quickly crossed the street. I used a credit card to pop the front door and raced up the stairs to the second floor. The second-floor hallway split the building in half. There was a door on the right and one on the left. Nicoletta’s apartment was the one on the left, so I headed toward that door as quietly as I could. The building was ancient and the wooden floors in the hall creaked loudly as I walked.

I took my time, though, and soon had my ear pressed against the door. I could only hear some sultry music—Massive Attack or something. I waited for about ten minutes and finally gave up. Outside, I looked up at her window. It was dark. Lights out.

Back in the van, I tried to stay awake, keeping my eyes on the front door. It wasn’t until just before dawn that the door opened and Charles slipped out.