Page 112 of Chasing Caine
Umberto crawled to the wall, but knew better than to attempt an escape.
The officer eyed me. “You want to tell me again why—”
Carabiniere Gallo came out of the room and waved to me. “Let Dr. Ferraro by.”
I hurried to meet him, feeling as though I couldn’t move fast enough. All the same, not wanting to see what would be in room thirty-eight. “Is she alright?”
He stopped me before I reached the door. “We have ambulances en route, but she won’t be the first one to go.”
“What do you mean?”
Special Agent Skinner joined us, casting a glance at Gallo. “Sam has a head injury. It looks bad, but she’ll likely be fine.”
“Likely?” I barely resisted shoving them both aside. “Can I see her?”
Elliot nodded and waved me into the small apartment.
Everything was a haze except for her, sitting on the floor by the door, leaned against the wall by a desk. A female officer sat next to her, chatting quietly.
Samantha held a small cloth to her forehead, her eyes closed.
The space was so miniscule, there was barely room to kneel in front of her. “Bella?”
Her eyes fluttered open and she grimaced. “They wanted me to stay lying on the floor where they found me, but I was like, I’ve had head injuries before. My neck’s fine. I wanna sit up.”
I spluttered a laugh, reaching for her cheek, but unsure where to touch. “So Samantha.”
“That guy, though…” She gestured with the washcloth to the space next to the bed behind me. A gash at her hairline sprouted fresh blood, and the officer eased the washcloth back. “Not so much.”
“Oddio, your head…”
Her left leg was stretched out, propped on a pillow.
“And your ankle?”
She gestured with the washcloth again, and I ripped my eyes from her. Finally seeing the room around us. The blood splatter on the wall. The stain on the floor at the foot of the bed. Eva in handcuffs, crying next to a hulk of a man lying face-up by a kitchenette.
He looked asleep. Unconscious? An officer sat next to them, bracing rolled up towels beside his head. The giant’s arm lay at an unnatural angle.
“Just to confirm, Antonio…” Samantha’s voice shook.
The female officer stood so I could take her spot on the floor beside Samantha.
“Is that the guy from the restaurant last night?”
“It’s hard to tell. His face is…” I took hold of the washcloth against her head. “Did you do that to him?”
She slid her now-free hand onto my lap and, with a groan, shifted position so she was leaning against me. “He knocked me out. I came to when the police arrived and he was like that.”
I placed a hand over hers, wanting to squeeze it. Wanting to pick her up in my arms and take her far away from the chaos. From the three officers milling about the room, the others outside, and all the noise.
“I should have listened to you,” she whispered.
“No, bella.” I brought her hand to my heart and kept my voice down, finding whatever privacy we could in the crowded room. “Honesty and trust. If I’d been honest about him from the beginning, trusted that you would discuss it with me, none of this would have happened.”
“Your heart’s beating so fast.” Her arm was heavy and speech slow, as though she were near sleep.
“When I heard his voice on the phone…” The words lodged in my throat. In the moment, the rage had pushed aside my panic. I’d felt an overwhelming need to get to her and protect her. I pulled the hand to my lips, avoiding the blood on her knuckles.