Page 59 of Benji

What?

“About Benji?”

Dom nodded and waited.

I suddenly felt scrutinised and defensive. “Uh...” Ishook my head. “That he’s twenty-one years old. Been in his line of work for two years.” I wasn’t saying what that was out loud.

“Anything about his family?”

“Only that they weren’t good people, and he spent his whole life dreaming of leaving them.” I wasn’t divulging that Benji had only told me this last night, but this was suddenly feeling like a formal line of questioning, and I wasn’t divulging anything unless specifically asked.

“Do you know his last name?”

He wasn’t going to like this.

“He told me it was Smith, but I highly doubt that’s true.” When Dom’s eyes narrowed at me, I narrowed mine right back at him. “Hardly surprising to give actual names in his line of work, is it?” This was bullshit. “What’s going on, Dom? Why the questions?”

He put the manila folder on my desk, atop the others. “I thought I recognised him, but I couldn’t be sure,” Dom said. “It took me a while to place him. He’s older, thinned out a lot, but his eyes...”

I opened the folder.

File name Benecio Barbieri.

Son of Bruno and Emilia, deceased. Younger brother to Tommaso.

Current whereabouts unknown.

The black and white photograph was of a boy, maybe twelve. He was wearing a black suit, standing at a graveside funeral. He was shorter, had that pre-pubertychubbiness that told me he was about to shoot up two feet in two years. His curly hair was the same.

But his eyes.

“Jesus Christ.”

The photo... His mother’s funeral. Yet he stood apart from his father and brother. Alone. Twelve years old and alone at his own mother’s funeral.

“I’m sorry,” Dom said.

I looked up at him then. “What for?”

His gaze went to the folder. “It’s... it’s Benji.”

I nodded. Because it was.

“He’s been off radar for years,” Dom added. “Went to boarding school, apparently, and never went home. Not during school holidays, not when he graduated. He just... disappeared.”

“He said he grew up wanting nothing else but to leave them,” I whispered.

“The cops don’t know where he is,” Dom said. “Couldn’t find him. When Bruno Barbieri’s case got blown wide open, he was questioned about everything, including the whereabouts of his youngest son. No one had seen him in years and at first, they speculated if Bruno had offed him. You know they’d always questioned whether he’d killed his wife...”

My head was starting to spin.

“But Bruno had laughed and said Benecio was... a string of homophobic words I won’t repeat, and that he wouldn’t have wasted a bullet.”

I closed my eyes. Rage burned behind my ribs and just under my skin, blistering and burning so hot Icouldn’t form words. Hell, my only concerns were for Benji.

“I need to go home,” I said, about to stand up.

“Nolan,” Dom said. “This is... this is not good.”