I needed to get these boxes to my IT guy. Giada would find the right people to process all the information, names, and locations. We could work out what to do with it then. Going to the mediaand whipping up a shitstorm was one option. That way the police would be under intense scrutiny and could hardly just brush it off.
Something had to be done for all the names in these boxes. Because behind every name was a person. I might be a monster, too, but there were lines that shouldn’t be crossed, and this treasure trove of abominations wasn’t something I could ignore.
I picked up a paper lying near my foot and looked at it closer. It had a woman’s name and age, her address, even. The address was what caught my eye. It was far away from here, down South. Close to Naples.
I scanned over the paper, and the logo of the hospital in the top corner caught my eye.
A dove flying through a laurel wreath.
I stilled. There. There it was. The thing I’d been searching for. The thing I’d needed to see in real life and not just dusty memories.
My breath stopped, and even my heart ceased to beat as I took in the familiar logo. It was one I’d stared at on and off for years, researched, employed others to research. I’d hunted for information about this logo and always come up empty. When I’d left my uncle’s house in a fury all those years ago, I’d grabbed the notebook of my mother’s words but left the letter from the hospital behind.
I’d started to think it didn’t exist. My memory was flawed. I’d been a young, angry teen and I was misremembering the name, the color, the style.
But no. I didn’t make a mistake. It was right here, just as I remembered it.
Ospedale di Santa Maria, Napoli
The hospital that had sent me my mother’s final effects aftershe’d passed in childbirth. The hospital Fabio had told me had buried my mother in an unmarked grave... the one he couldn’t remember the name of. And Blackwood had the patient records.
I didn’t know how long I stood there. Lifetimes passed maybe, in the blink of an eye, or maybe it was simply hours in real time. I died a hundred times in that silence.
When my phone rang, my body felt stiff and unused. I answered on autopilot. Giada’s voice filled my ear.
“Good morning, Massimo.” Her voice was soft, hesitant. It was very unlike her.
“What’s wrong?” I asked immediately.
She sighed. “Lucy called. Katarina never met up with her. She didn’t show. I figured she must still be in Turin somewhere. I didn’t think she had a place to go, or money—I was worried, so I checked out the footage from Lucy’s hotel. Kat left the townhouse all right, in time to meet Lucy and go to the train, but she got into a car just outside. I traced the license plate, and it’s registered to?—”
“Sergei Stoyanov, director of Centrium Group, boss of the Stoyanov family,” I finished for her.
Giada was stunned into silence for a second and then sighed. “You want his address?”
“Of course I do.”
There was the sound of keys clacking and then a deep voice spoke. Her husband.
“Right. I’m to tell you that busting into a Mafia compound to rescue the girl alone isn’t smart. Also, Elio is still in Italy, not too far from where you are. I’m telling him what’s going on, and you’re going to wait for him to come and help.”
“Negative. I’m not waiting. I’m not leaving Katarina with that man for a second longer than I have to.”
“Massimo! If you die, then no one will save her,” Giada reminded me.
Fuck, why did she always know the most annoying but true things to say at all times?
“I need a favor,” I said, changing the subject. “I have important documents that need to be picked up from Blackwood’s, and a cleanup crew would be appreciated.”
“Got it. What documents?”
“Patient records. They’ve done this before, all over Europe. They’re doing it now, all over... Giada... I found some letters with the dove and laurel wreath.”
Giada was silent. She had been looking for that logo for months, trying to help me find my mother’s last resting place.
“You mean . . . ?”
“I mean they did it to my mother. She was a patient.” I could barely say the words. I’d read too often tonight about how they treated the pregnant patients. Was my mother in an unmarked grave, her body hacked to pieces, her organs harvested?