Chapter 12: The Catania Road

Behind the wall, a dog started barking.

A flashlight beam swept across the top of the pergola.

I opened Gaetano's door and got in.

He pulled away before I had it shut.

He didn't turn on the radio.

He drove with both hands on the wheel, the way he used to when I was pregnant and he was trying to be careful.

I looked at him in the dashboard light.

His eyes were clear.

He'd shaved, badly.

"How did you know?" I said.

"I didn't. I've parked down by the fishing huts every night since Wednesday."

"Why?"

"I wanted to see if he'd let you out." He swallowed. "I saw you come over the wall. I thought I was drunk again."

The phone buzzed in my lap.

I'm on the coast road. Two minutes.

I typed fast.

Gaetano Sciarra picked me up. I'm in his car, heading east.

The answer came back before I'd put the phone down.

Do you want to be?

I looked at Gaetano.

I didn't know.

Tell him the big petrol station on the Catania road, past Termini, Corrado wrote. I'll meet you there.

I'm sorry, I typed. I should have waited.

You got out. That's all that matters.

"Who are you texting?" Gaetano said.

"Someone who's coming to get me."

"Amato."

I didn't answer.

He laughed under his breath.

"He looked at you on Wednesday like you were the last glass of water in Sicily."

"Take me to the petrol station on the Catania road. Past Termini."

"Fine."

He drove for a while without speaking.

The road climbed away from the sea.

"I'm not going to pretend," he said finally. "I'm not here to save you."

"I didn't save you three years ago, and I'm not some different man now."

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