Dinner on Friday

29. Dante

MOTIVE

Disbelief clung to me like feathers on a young bird. My wife was gone. She'd run away, leaving no trace of her whereabouts.

She was last seen leaving the hospital alone wearing a nurse's uniform. It fit her well it didn't look borrowed. She scanned the lobby, and with short brisk steps, made her way to the revolving doors and out of my life.

I called her phone for the millionth time, and without fail, it went to her voicemail. Every call was like trying to catch the wind in a net. Futile.

Bruce looked at me while Schipper drove us to the address I had saved for Eva.

"Are you sure this is the only place she would go?" he asked, not liking that we hadn't split up to look for her.

"I'm sure," I answered surly.

When we got to Eva's apartment, the front door was wide open. Warm light spilled from the entryway, but we weren't fooled. The plants lining the path to the door had been trampled on.

Bruce, Vlad, and Schipper drew their guns. The cold metal in their hands gleamed in the dim interior of the vehicle. Before we could come to a full stop, the three men burst out of the car, moving shadows armed against the unknown.

"Boss, you stay here," Schipper commanded when he should have known better.

Ignoring him, I straightened my collar and stepped out of the car, my black boots hitting the pavement with purpose. An ominous calm settled over me as I made my way up the path. Every step forward was a declaration - a vow to navigate any obstacle, confront any adversary, to find her. This was more than a mission; it was a reckoning.

"He's right, Dante," Bruce said as he waited next to the open door with his gun drawn. "This is probably a trap."

"Whoever did this has my wife." I took my gun out and cocked it.

One look at their faces and I knew they understood what I meant by that. I would walk through a fucking minefield to find my wife.

Bruce peeped through the open doorway. "I'm going in first. Follow my lead."

I nodded and took up position behind Vlad with Schipper watching our backs. We barged in, in sync, the soft thud of our boots on the carpet indiscernible as the sound of music playing grew louder.

Drake's One Dance wafted from the speakers when Bruce and I continued toward the living room while Vlad and Schipper searched the bedroom, kitchen, and bathroom.

The song brought me back to another time. Carla, naive, her lips locked on another man. Eduardo.

I remembered the rage I felt that day. I told myself I didn't want her, but that didn't stop me from grabbing the first thing I could get my hands on, to wrench her away from him. Turned out that thing was her hair.

I still didn't know how she'd managed to bewitch me in such a short time. Maybe it was her voice. Maybe it was the innocence of her lips wrapped around my cock. Or maybe it was her desperate need to get to know me.

The chaos that followed after I dragged her off Eduardo, intent on knocking his teeth out, was like wildfire spreading uncontrollably, consuming order and leaving behind the embers of disorder.

War and death.

And the latter, I knew the stench of it. All too well. It surrounded us right now.

I motioned for Bruce to stop. He did, raising an eyebrow in question. Instead of answering, I shook my head and told him to keep moving with my fingers, knowing what we were going to find.

The thought of Carla dead soured my mouth. I couldn't talk.

My heart hammered in my chest, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other. The toxic fume of death grew stronger and I saw Bruce wrinkle his nose as if repulsed.

"Dante, I think you should stay behind. Let me check the scene out first."

"I know what's in there. Staying behind isn't going to change that. If it's her, it's not going to soften the blow."

"Brace yourself," Bruce said as he entered the small living room with burgundy carpet on the floor.

The first thing that caught my eye was the wine glasses on the table and then the phones.

I picked up the phone with the golden case. "This is Carla's phone. She was here."

"Do you know her?" Bruce asked from behind me.

I turned and that's when I saw the body lying on the opposite corner of the room. Pale skin. Blond hair. White foam bubbling around her mouth.

Madeleine.

Fuck! I ran my hand over my mouth and chin. "That's Madeleine. One of Carla's friends."

"It looks like she was poisoned."

I nodded just as Vlad and Schipper entered, their faces grim.

"Carla?"

Vlad shook his head. "No signs of her, boss."

Bruce pointed at Madeleine's corpse. Vlad and Schipper stopped in their tracks.

"Mijn god," Schipper whispered in Dutch. "She's one of the girls you had me investigate. What the fuck happened?"

"Poison," Vlad answered.

"You think the same person is behind this? Maybe she was the target all along and it mistakenly got given to Carla?" Schipper put on his gloves and inspected one of the wine glasses on the table by swirling the content around and smelling it. "Maybe Eva is our suspect. This is her apartment, and she was there when Carla got poisoned."

"No, can't be. It was intended for Carla. The notes were specific. This is collateral damage." I stared at Madeleine's face, paying attention to how young she looked, and my heart clenched with pain for her family.

I met the gaze of my men. "There's a chance Carla and Eva are still alive. They were taken, that much we know. We need to find them."

"Where could they have gone from here?" Bruce wondered.

"We can only answer that if we knew who took them." I looked at Schipper who was now inspecting the cup of tea. "Did you hear anything back from the handwriting analyst, Schipper?"

"Yes, an email came in while I was in the car. Didn't get a chance to check it yet," he said, lowering the cup of tea. "Only one of these had poison in it. Doesn't tell us much, but we know for certain there was only one target."

"Schipper, the email. What does it say?"

I watched him pocket his gloves before going through his phone. The couple of seconds it took for him to find the email was nerve-wracking. Every minute was a ticking bomb.

"The handwriting belongs to the dead girl."

I scratched my head. "Why would she want to hurt Carla? What's her motive? It doesn't make sense. These girls went through a lot together."

"Someone got to her. Paid her," Bruce said.

"Who?"

"That's a question for you to answer, my friend."

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