Chapter 6 - THE CHILD’S DRAWING
Elena’s head throbbed as she hit the floorboards.
Sofia was instantly on top of her, her knee driving into Elena’s ribs. Elena gasped, struggling to push the younger woman off.
“You stupid bitch,” Sofia hissed, reaching for the gun that had slid under the coffee table.
Elena kicked out blindly, her boot connecting with Sofia’s thigh. Sofia grunted and fell sideways.
Elena didn't go for the gun. She scrambled toward the stairs.
“Leo! Run to Grandma’s room! Lock the door!” Elena screamed.
The little boy at the top of the stairs, clutching a stuffed bear, burst into tears and ran down the hallway.
A door slammed. A lock clicked.
Elena dragged herself up, leaning against the banister.
Sofia stood up slowly, the gun back in her hand. She was breathing heavily, her lip bleeding where Elena’s elbow had caught her.
“It doesn't matter,” Sofia spat, pointing the weapon at Elena’s face. “I can shoot through a bedroom door.”
Elena looked down.
The broken rosary lay at the bottom of the stairs. The tiny piece of paper that had fallen from inside the crucifix was lying open.
It wasn't a tracker.
It was a miniature copy of a child’s drawing. A crayon sketch of two stick figures holding hands.
Elena recognized that drawing. It used to hang on Matteo’s refrigerator.
Leo had drawn it.
But why was a copy of it hidden inside the emergency rosary Matteo gave her?
Unless... Matteo didn't give her the rosary to track her. He gave it to her because he knew Sofia would take her belongings.
“Look at it,” Elena said suddenly, her voice echoing in the quiet house.
“Shut up,” Sofia said, advancing a step.
“Look at the paper on the floor, Sofia,” Elena commanded, her voice ringing with the authority she usually reserved for the mafia wives at dinner parties.
Sofia’s eyes flicked downward.
She saw the drawing.
Her face went completely slack. The color drained from her cheeks, leaving her looking like a ghost.
“Where did you get that?” Sofia whispered, the gun trembling in her hand.
“Matteo put it in the rosary,” Elena bluffed, her mind racing to connect the dots. “He knew you’d search me. He wanted you to see it.”
Sofia took a step back, her eyes wide with genuine terror.
“He knows,” Sofia gasped, her voice cracking. “He knows about my sister.”
Elena’s mind spun. Sister?
Before Elena could speak, the sound of heavy tires crunching on gravel echoed from outside. Headlights swept across the broken front window.
Doors slammed. Footsteps pounded onto the porch.
Sofia looked at the window, then at Elena, absolute panic in her eyes.
She didn't shoot. She turned and sprinted toward the back door, disappearing into the kitchen.
A second later, the front door was kicked open, splintering the frame.
Three large men in dark coats rushed in, guns drawn.
Behind them walked Matteo.
He looked at the broken glass, at Elena leaning against the stairs, and finally at the broken rosary on the floor.
He rushed forward, pulling Elena into his arms. “Are you hurt? Did she shoot you?”
Elena pushed him away, hard.
She bent down and picked up the tiny crayon drawing.
She held it up to his face.
“Who,” Elena asked, her voice vibrating with rage, “is Sofia’s sister?”
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Matteo looked at the drawing. He closed his eyes, a look of profound defeat washing over his face.
“Her sister,” Matteo said quietly, “is Leo’s mother.”
