Page 83 of Isle of Seduction
Be careful, guerrieritta. Pierce found the nanny. Down South. I’ll be in and out. I’ll see you tonight.
I close the text chain, text Nico, then immediately open Giulia’s again.
Me
Te amo, tesoro mio. heart emoji
I’m a lovesick fool.
I send her the address of where I’m going and the documents Pierce just forwarded. I want her to know every step of the way, my equal and partner in everything.
* * *
Jennie Alfred looks nothing like Serena Hogg. That was the point. Only if I look closer do the eyes of the woman asking for my coffee order match the picture of Serena.
She’s finishing her shift in an hour, so I take my drink and sit in one corner of the specialty coffee place she’s working at. It’s a shit job with shit hours, but she lives in a very nice flat downtown that doesn’t match her salary. Another stitch of the thread to unravel.
When she’s done, I follow her to her building. I know how this looks. It’s definitely not the best way to make her talk; she’s gonna be spooked but I don’t have the luxury of waiting anymore.
When I get to her floor, I knock on the door and wait in the softly lit hallway decorated with beige plush carpets and chequered grey wallpaper.
A chain prevents the door from opening fully, but gives enough for a pair of deep brown eyes to meet mine. “Miss Alfred, my name is Andrea Capaldi, I’d like to ask you a few questions about your previous employer.”
She frowns. “I only worked at Baked Beans for three months.”
“Not that employer. Mr. Addams?”
The light in her eyes flickers and dies and she pushes the door to close on my face. In the spur of the moment, I place my foot in the doorway and groan when the heavy door slams against the bones of my toes.
With a push of my shoulder on the frame, the chain breaks from the lock on the wall and the door gives way.
Jennie scatters and runs from one room to the other, throwing lamps and any object she seems to be able to get her hands on. And there aren’t that many of them. She enters what I believe might be her bedroom, but I’m right behind her.
She opens the drawer of her nightstand, and whirls around, a handgun lifted in her slender arms. With a tremble like that, she won’t do much damage, but she’s in fight or flight mode, in what she believes is a life or death situation, and that’s dangerous.
I immediately raise my hands and take a tentative step forward.
“Don’t move!” she yells.
“Miss Alfred, I’m not here to hurt you,” I say, placating.
“You banged open my door!”
Her voice is high pitched and she’s sweating, a drop forming at her temple.
“I’m just here to talk.”
“I don’t talk. I haven’t talked!” She’s yelling now, frantic and trembling.
I use the only element I have to get her to trust me. “Addams hurt my wife. I need your help,” I plead.
Her brow furrows, and she drops the gun marginally. Her defences are down and she’s sensitive to my plea. She probably wants to help people if she ever was a witness to violence. I don’t know what I expect her to say about Addams, but I’m preparing myself for anything, for the worst.
“How did you find me?” she asks.
“I’ve been looking for you for a long time. It wasn’t easy, but I needed your help. I’ll help you disappear again if that’s what you want. Or protect you if you want to stay here.”
“He’s going to find me again.”