He is currently the Senior Vice President of Operations at Minaldi Shipping. His younger brother Christoph is the Senior VP of Marketing and his other brother, Damien, is the President and CEO. His brothers moved away to other Minaldi Shipping global locations years ago, while Luca stayed here because Valetta is where their main operations (shipyards and warehouses) are located. Damien is located at their corporate headquarters in London and Christoph works in their Abu Dhabi offices.
These things are the cut and dried facts that are easily accessible on the web.
I dig a little deeper and read through a handful of gossipy social Maltese websites. It seems that Luca has been the subject of fascination for years. He is considered mysterious, handsome and the most eligible bachelor of Malta, a title that doesn’t seem to affect him at all. He is unfazed by the attention and ventures into town as little as possible. He is gossiped about frequently, with speculations on whether he stashes mistresses around the world unbeknownst to the Maltese public or whether he is homosexual.
I can sense the latter is not the case. The dark, fiery stares that he gives me can attest to that. Sexual energy churns between us, something that warms my belly just thinking about.
Luca is certainly a mystery. I’ve known that from the beginning, and he only grows more fascinating as I learn more about him.
I stare at his picture, which stares back blankly from the computer screen. This is the only time I’ve been able to stare at him without feeling that intense energy that he brings when he is with me in person. Even now, his gaze is intense, even though I am safe through a computer screen.
Safe.
I am startled at that word and I ponder it for a moment. Why would that thought occur to me? Do I subconsciously feel that I‘m not safe around Luca?
As a psychiatrist, I am a firm believer that we should listen to our subconscious, to our instincts. It is interesting that I should feel, even for a second, that I am unsafe around Luca. I think about it for a few more moments, turning it over and over in my head. I finally decide that I have simply been swayed by the fact that both Melina and Luca himself told me that I should feel that way.
And Melina is unbalanced and Luca is… tortured. That is the best way I can sum him up in one word. Something about Luca—something in his past probably, is torturing him. I can see it in his eyes, I can sense it in his presence. And the woman in me, the maternal side that wants to fix little children, wants to fix whatever it is that is hurting him.
The depth of my emotion concerning this is startling. I have very strong feelings about it. I want to help him and I don’t even know why. I barely know him. And certainly, I can’t help him until I know what it is that troubles him. So I decide to make it my mission to find out, a feat that will not be easy since it is widely known that Luca Minaldi is a secretive mystery. I smile to myself. Fortunately, I am very good at what I do.
I solve emotional puzzles.
I pull out my research and work for a while, before I realize that I haven’t eaten lunch. I glance at my watch and find that it is 3:00. Well past lunchtime. I put my work away and then pull my hair into a ponytail before I make my way to Marianne’s. She is happy to see me and we chat for at least an hour and a half while I eat lunch. She laughs and talks about Adrian, inquires about Luca and is surprised when I tell her that I’ve seen him again. I can’t divulge the capacity of our meeting, so instead I downplay it and make it sound as though we just bumped into each other.
Technically, it isn’t a lie. When Luca came to my house to ask me to visit with his mother, we did bump into each other.
“Well, bella,” Marianne laughs. “I won’t worry about you being alone quite so much. It appears that you’ve got that under control.” She lifts her wine glass and clinks it with mine.
I feel slightly warm and flushed, a by-product of the wine. I decide that I need some fresh air or all I’ll want to do is curl up into a ball and take a cozy nap for the remainder of the day. So I wish Marianne a good day, promise that I’ll be back tomorrow and make my way back out to the beach.
I take my shoes off and decide to walk for a little bit before I get back on my scooter and ride home. As I sink my toes into the soft sand, the breeze is cool and crisp on my face and it does wonders to perk me back up. I inhale the salt, the brine in the air and I know that I love it here. I may never want to return to the States.
I love this time of day, too, just when the late afternoon begins the slow turn into dusk. I have to laugh at myself. I’m feeling so content right now, with my belly full of pasta and wine, that pretty much anything would make me happy. There is still enough light that I feel safe out here since I am on my way home. And also, I promised Marianne that I would call when I reached my cottage safely. If I don’t call soon, she will send out search parties. Of that, I am certain.
I smile and hum a nameless, tuneless song as I walk. My feet sink into the foam lip of the sea as it slides to and fro against the beach. Life is good right now.
I walk a good mile and a half probably before I decide that I’d better turn around. I glance regretfully ahead of me, at the tree-lined coast, before I turn. I realize that I’m regretful only because that is the direction that Luca always goes into, the direction that houses Chessarae. I had been subconsciously walking toward it,
toward him
, hoping to see him.
This is getting ridiculous.
I turn and start my walk back to my scooter.
After a half mile or so, something in the water ahead catches my eye. Something silvery white in the late afternoon sun. I stare at it as I walk closer, and then as I approach it, a heavy feeling forms in my chest.
Whatever it is looks fleshy.
Oh my god.
I can’t help the ominous feeling of panic that rises in me and smothers the air trying to rise from my lungs. Visions from long ago flit through my head, of another time and place when I found something floating in the water.
Someone.
My breathing comes in pants and I know that something isn’t right here today. Just like something wasn’t right twenty-two years ago when I found my little brother floating face down in the lake behind our house.
I can’t breathe and I have to force myself to move. I take a tentative step toward the thing in the water and I’m terrified to look even though I know I have to. Chills run down my spine and I glance around for signs that someone else might be near in case I need help with
this thing.
But there is no one. Only me.
My legs feel numb as I take another step toward it, then another.
Whatever it is has washed up onto the rocks that line the shore and it is covered in tattered fabric. I gulp, swallow hard, and then walk the remaining twenty yards.
It’s a person, just as my instincts already knew.
I force myself to wade through the shallow water and stand over it, staring down, fighting the waves of nausea that are welling up in me.
It’s a partial person. Something… sharks, crabs,
something
, has eaten half of it. Of
her
. I know it is a
her
because there is a butterfly tattoo still on her shoulder. Her shoulder is one of the only things that I can see that is still intact and I am suddenly so very thankful that she is face down. She has no legs or arms left and there is seaweed matted into her short blonde hair.
And I know, beyond any doubt, that this is Annica Rossi.
Chapter Fifteen
I don’t even realize that I am screaming until Marianne is pulling at my shoulders, pulling me away from this battered corpse. She sits me down on a piece of driftwood a short distance away, turns me in the opposite direction of the body and then pulls out her cell phone. The polizia arrive in less than five minutes.
By the time they arrive, I have calmed myself down. I take deep breaths and stare at the sand by my feet until I no longer feel panicky. I am slightly ashamed that I lost it in such a way. I’m a doctor. I shouldn’t fall apart simply because I see a dead, half-eaten body. But to be fair, I’m a psychiatrist. I’m not accustomed to coming into surprise contact with a mutilated corpse. I doubt anyone is, particularly someone who lost her own brother to a drowning.
Marianne holds my hand as we wait for the lead detective to come speak with me. As the person who found
her
, they have to take my statement. That’s fine with me, although I don’t have much to tell them. I was walking along, minding my own business and there she was. The end. And that’s what I’ll tell them.
There’s a team of them here now, all poking around her in a very official way, poking around the beach and then finally, the coroner comes and they remove her from the water and place her onto a stretcher, covering her up with a sheet. I feel a sense of relief for her. She deserves some privacy, some sort of dignity.
We wait forever. The polizia certainly aren’t in a hurry to question me and allow me on my way. It’s agonizingly frustrating. I just want to leave. My nerves and the cool evening breeze are causing me to shiver and I haven’t brought a jacket. But still they let us sit. They don’t even look in our direction.
Marianne and I chat and I am ever grateful to her for staying with me. I tell her that and she waves away my gratitude.
“It’s what anyone would do,” she insists. It’s not, but I let it go.
We talk for a while longer and then she looks up and stares.
“Honey, look,” she instructs.
I look up and am startled to find Luca jogging down the beach toward us. Grendel is at his side and I don’t know why I am surprised at their presence. I was half-expecting (half-wishing) to see them earlier and now here they are.
Luca is clearly concerned as he stares at the scene in front of him before his gaze brushes over me. He is surprised, I can see it. And very curious. He jogs up to me and stops. Grendel stands at attention by his side. The dog’s gold eyes appraise me sharply, but he doesn’t growl this time. We’re apparently making progress.
“What’s going on?” Luca asks. He’s as handsome as ever, even with the light sheen of perspiration gleaming on his brow. His dark hair is damp as he brushes it out of his eyes. His shirt is soaked through at the top. From the looks of it, he’s been running for awhile but he’s not even breathing hard.
Marianne answers before I do.
“They found the third girl. We think,” she adds. “Eva found her. The polizia won’t confirm it, but Eva saw a tattoo on her shoulder. It’s the girl.”
Luca looks appalled. “She’s dead?”
I nod. “Very. It looks like sharks got her.”
“Oh. So she wasn’t murdered?” Luca is surprised now. I shrug.
“I don’t know. They aren’t saying what they think. She could’ve drowned, I guess, and the sharks ate her remains. Or maybe she was murdered, then dumped into the sea.”
Luca is somber again, shaking his head. He is a handsome and polished, even here.
“Either way, you shouldn’t be here, Evangeline. This isn’t a place for you.”
His concern for my wellbeing makes my heart quicken.
“I have to be,” I tell him quietly. “I found her and they want my statement.”
He stares at me for a scant moment before he turns on his heel and walks to the lead detective. They speak for a moment in words that I can’t hear before they both return to me. The detective is wearing rumpled clothing and is distracted, but he pulls out a little notebook and pen and turns his attention to me.
He says, in a very thick Maltese accent, “I apologize for your wait, Miss Talbot.”
“Dr. Talbot,” Luca corrects him. The detective nods.
“
Dr.
Talbot,” the detective amends. “Can you tell me how you found the body?”
“Is it Annica Rossi?” I ask. The detective shakes his head.
“We can’t confirm that yet,” he says. “But it is a possibility.”
I inhale shakily and then tell him how I found her. It only takes a minute because there isn’t much to tell. He writes down what I say and then tells me that they will get back to me if they have any further questions. He thanks me and then leaves. Our interaction only took five minutes, after I waited forty-five for him to get to me.
I turn to Luca. “Thank you for expediting that process.”
He shrugs. “It was nothing. You didn’t deserve to wait out here in the dark. Come. I’ll walk you home.”
Marianne looks at me. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bella,” she says. “Lock your doors and just use common sense, alright?”
I nod. It’s clear that she doesn’t think Annica Rossi drowned. I don’t either.
I watch her retreat toward her restaurant before I look back at Luca.
“You don’t need to walk me home,” I tell him. “It’s unnecessary.”
“Perhaps,” he answers. “But I want to. It would make me feel more comfortable. You’ve had a rough evening. It’s the least I can do.”
“Okay,” I reply. “Thank you.”
He touches my elbow lightly as I get up from the driftwood. His touch is electric and I can still feel the imprint of his fingers long after he removes them from my skin. For some reason, I ache to lean back into it, into his warmth. I decide it must be the emotional toll that this evening has taken on me.
Luca walks me to my scooter and then he pushes it as we walk. It doesn’t take us very long to reach my cottage and we don’t talk very much along the way. The night has been sobering, the events of it thoroughly quenching my good mood.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” I ask as Luca delivers me to my door. He looks at me. I can feel him examining me, studying my motives. His gaze practically burns my skin and I struggle to not fidget beneath it as I wait for his decision.
Finally, he asks, “Do you have Scotch?”
I have to laugh as I shake my head. “Um, no. I don’t. But I have wine.”