Let’s break this down.
I’ve established I don’t believe incoincidences, and I weigh the odds in all situations. I’ve alsobeen clear, I don’t believe the universe absorbs billions ofpeoples’ wants and desires, organizes them like a dating app orsome version of a wish list, and then matches up who wants what andhow they can have it.
On the other hand, if I’d never met NataliaSurkis, I’d have no connection to the Di Caros except as most lawenforcement does: monitoring the Don as best we can since he’s oneslick motherfucker who doesn’t leave messes.
I know there are random theories, and thingshappen based on processes that we can’t predict. Like Nataliachoosing Fiddler’s Rest to hide in when there are tens of thousandsof small towns in the US, never mind how many there are in theworld. Then once she moved to Fiddler’s Rest, she got a job workingat Gusk’s and became tight with my mother, who told Nataliaeverything about me. Which is why she approached me about Demko soshe could get out from under to live her life with Gio Di Caro. Whoshe met through TLC. Jesus fuck. Connections in ways I could havenever anticipated lined up and put Flower in my path.
I sat on my sofa, staring at my two duffles,getting ready to head to my “new” home in Melrose. Well, if theuniverse is in on this, it’s having a giant laugh right now ’causeI’m going to be undercover for who knows how long, and now that Ican find Flower, I can’t.
Technically, I could, but I’d never bringdanger to her doorstep.
Before I knew what I was doing, I opened mymessenger bag and pulled out my laptop.
What she’d survived has been playing a loopin my head since we first started corresponding.
It didn’t take but fifteen seconds to findwhat I had known in my gut for months now. After I typed in SofiaDi Caro, this came up:
THERAPIST SHOT TRYING TO SAVE PATIENT
Theresa Calapiano, a psychiatric socialworker with a practice in East Willisford, Connecticut, was shot byeighteen-year-old Walter Randall yesterday at 11:53 a.m. Ms.Calapiano was in session with her patient, Sofia Di Caro, who wasMr. Randall’s ex-girlfriend. Police have determined that Ms. DiCaro was Mr. Randall’s intended target, but when Mr. Randallpointed his gun at Ms. Di Caro, Ms. Calapiano put herself betweenMr. Randall and Ms. Di Caro at the moment the gun went off.
Ms. Calapiano suffered an injury to herchest, and doctors at Dutchford Memorial Hospital have said Ms.Calapiano is holding her own, but they wouldn’t say more. Ms. DiCaro was uninjured and was released from Dutchford MemorialHospital after undergoing a thorough examination. Ms. Di Caro isthe oldest daughter of noted businessman Alessandro Di Caro, whocouldn’t be reached for comment.
CORRECTION: The paperregrets the error – Dr. Calapiano is a psychologist.
WALTER RANDALL ARRAIGNED TODAY
Eighteen-year-old Walter Randall wasarraigned today for multiple charges including attempted murder. Heis being held without bail in county jail. Theresa Calapiano hasbeen removed from the critical condition list and has been upgradedto serious condition. Numerous attempts to contact the Di Carofamily have resulted in this statement being issued by the family’sattorney, Anthony Garibaldi:
The Di Caro family thanks you for yourconcern and well wishes. They, along with the entire community, arepraying for Ms. Calapiano’s swift recovery. The family asks you toplease understand that they wish to comfort their daughter duringthis difficult time, and they hope that you respect their privacyto do so.
After the first sentence, I could barelystand, and stumbled to the sofa where I sat down hard. My Flower,Theresa, had been shot point blank in the chest saving Sofia DiCaro. I checked the date of the article and saw all this shithappened eighteen months ago.
I catalogued all of…Theresa’s letters andrealized she hadn’t moved offices. She’d re-opened her practicewhen she had recovered enough to return to work. I’ve met a fewtruly brave people in my life, but I don’t know if I’ve ever knownanyone braver than her.
Secret Service agents are trained to putthemselves in front of a bullet for the president, and other lawenforcement have taken fire to protect civilians and governmentofficials, but that’s their jobs, what’s expected of them in theline of duty.
Theresa’s a psychologist, for fuck’s sake. Agentle, caring woman who has dedicated her life to helpingteenagers and young adults get their heads straight, some of themafter horrendous things have been done to them. Christ, no wondershe wanted to know how Jessica was doing. Survivor empathy coupledwith Sofia being in college in Boston…shit. Theresa must’ve beenworried sick. True, at the time I hadn’t known who she was, but nowI hated myself for thinking anything negative about herinquiry.
I close my laptop and lay it on the floor,then lean back and drop my head against the sofa cushion and closemy eyes. Bad move. Behind my lids every photo I’ve ever seen of achest being blown open by a bullet flashes frame by frame inhorrifying detail. Sitting up doesn’t help. Everything in me isscreaming to get in the car and drive to Connecticut. My heart andbrain seem to have teamed up, and they keep telling me I need tostand guard and watch over my woman.
Okay, this is fucking crazy.
We’ve been writing letters. Only recentlywe’ve started to flirt. She has no idea who I am, where I live, orfor what agency I work. Until fifteen minutes ago, I had aneleven-state area to recon to find her, like a fucking needle in ahaystack.
Knowing what happened to her changesnothing.
Fucking hell. It changes everything.
But I can’t do shit about it. Any of it. Notthe shooting. Not her recovery. Not being there for her when shewas struggling to put her life back together. Not putting thatpiece of shit who shot her behind bars. Not protecting her. Holdingher. Not taking Boo out at night so she doesn’t have to walk him inthe dark. Not locking up the house before we go to sleep, makingsure she feels safe every way I can make her feel that way.
Goddammit.
Unless I pull out of this investigation, Ihave to keep myself to myself.
As I’m pacing the apartment trying to sortthrough the ramifications of turning my life and career upside downfor a woman I barely know, but want more than is rational, my “new”phone goes off. Adam. Or should I say Drew. I hate undercovernames.
“What?” I bark into the phone.