Page 44 of Bulletproof Baby

I shake my head as dread washes over before pulling off into the Monday traffic. It seems like every light turns red as I fight my way through Brooklyn into Queens. I hope that my parents are okay. The words of the cart vendor sit with me. Who the fuck died?

As soon as I pull up to the house, something seems strange. The last time I was here, there was a void. It didn't feel like coming home. This feeling washing over me now? This is different. This isn't a cold feeling, it's one of emptiness. A hollow shell of a home stares at me from the sidewalk. There isn't much activity on the street. The neighbors' homes all look peaceful, but it doesn't usually feel as vacant as this. I spot my car in the driveway, which gives me a sign of hope. I head to the door, grabbing the spare key out of the planter beside it and let myself in.

Empty.

The entire house is empty. There aren't any pictures on the walls or furniture sitting in a living room well-lived-in. My heart races as I search through every room. It's all empty, cleared out, and cleaned up as if it's ready to rent out to the next available tenant. It's a brand new canvas for another family to move in and call it home. My heart breaks and I can't stand the sight of it.

My feet move quickly to get out of the house, hating that my world is one collapse after another. When I go to my car, I run my hand along the rear wheel well, thankful for the magnetic lockbox holding the spare key. I need my license, wallet, credit cards, anything to get out of here when I try to remember. My stuff is at Frankie's. That's where I need to go.

After leaving Valentino's car at my parents' house, I head to the Lower East Side, where I park and make a beeline to Frankie's apartment. He works nights, so I'm hoping that he's home. After ringing the bell an obscene amount of times, I finally hear the heavy footsteps of Frankie coming down the stairs to open the door.

When it swings open, the shock on his face says it all. His eyes are wide as he pokes his head out, glancing up and down the street before yanking me into the doorway.

"What the hell are you doing here? Are you okay? What happened? Where are the police? I thought—" Frankie takes a beat, pausing to gain his composure, locking the door behind me.

I follow him upstairs and as soon as I'm inside, he slams the door. "Bitch, I thought you were dead! What the fuck is going on?"

"That's what I want to know. Who the fuck is Bolton Realty? Where are my parents, Frankie? And what do you mean you thought I was dead?" I fire off one question after another. "I need a phone. My wallet and stuff. I gotta get out of here."

"No, you need to tell me what the fuck happened after Friday night. I called the police and they said they had an issue trying to find evidence of a kidnapping."

"Valentino set this elaborate scheme up for Saul to get arrested. Have you spoken to my parents, Frankie?"

"They went into hiding. The past seventy-two hours have been a shitstorm of confusion and chaos. I called them and the police about us being knocked out and you getting abducted. By the time I woke up, I was in my apartment. The police thought I was batshit crazy. Then, I spoke to your folks Saturday morning. They said they were closing down the business and that they'd rather shutter it than give in to the demands of the psycho who killed their daughter."

"What?"

"Girl, don't look at me like that. I'm just as in the dark as you. But you're not dead. So, whose finger did they receive?"

"A finger?" My eyes widen.

"Yeah, they said they got a finger with a ransom demand that they sign over their business to some random company with a finger in a package. They turned it over to the police, but then they said there's no way they'd take your finger and let you walk out alive. They said you were dead. They told me to keep quiet since it's all tied in with this mob stuff and to keep my head low for a while. I think they went into witness protection. If you're dead, then why wouldn't they testify on your behalf?"

"Who said I died?" I ask him.

He fishes through his pockets to pull out his phone, scrolling through screens until he pulls up a news clip. It's Saul standing outside of a precinct with a lawyer by his side. His statement is clear. "I truly am sorry for the loss of the Bonetti family. I regret that my name got dragged into this, but I've been nothing but a beacon of hope to the small businesses within the construction community. I fully intend to fund the young woman's funeral services and pray that we can all come together and show up for this family during this tragedy. Thank you."

"Saul Caputo thinks I'm dead and my parents packed up their shit and left town," I say it out loud. The words make sense as they usher in a new reality. "I can't stay in New York, Frankie."

"No fucking shit. If Caputo gets wind that you are not deceased, I'm sure he's going to make sure you attend your funeral. I don't want anything happening to you."

"I don't want anything happening to you."

"What about Valentino? If he had his hand in this, wait a minute, where is he?" Frankie asks, his eyes shifting to the door as if it's going to explode any minute.

"I don't know, but I don't want him involved in this anymore."

Frankie rings his hands together. "I feel like you should loop him in on this."

"I feel like we should get the fuck out of New York. Let's just pack up what little shit I got left and drive. I need to get away from these mob bosses and this twisted life. My entire world has flipped upside down in the matter of a month. I'm tired Frankie. If my parents are truly in witness protection, and they think I'm dead, I can start over somewhere else. Come with me."

Frankie looks around the apartment we practically grew up in and turns to me. "Alright, I can sublet this place until we figure a few things out. I'm with you, Lia. I'm so happy you're not dead and that you're okay."

"Me, too, Frankie. Me too."

20

VALENTINO