Sempre (Forever) (49 page)

“Your mother was too naïve,” Dr. DeMarco said. “She’d insist there was a way out of this where no one got hurt, but she’d be wrong. Someone is going to get hurt. I’m just hoping it’s neither of you.”

Everyone was quiet after the turn in conversation. Haven was as confused as ever. Carmine shook his head, his voice shaky when he spoke. “Who did it?”

“Who did what?” Dr. DeMarco asked, not even bothering to look up.

“You know what. Who killed her? We’re clearing the air here, and I want to know who shot me.”

“Their names don’t matter.”

“Then why did they do it?” he asked. “The least you can do is to tell me what caused it all.”

“There’s no point, Carmine. What’s done is done.”

Carmine laughed dryly. “Don’t give me that. I have a right to know whose fault it is.”

“I don’t know.”

“What the fuck do you mean you don’t know?”

“I mean I don’t know who to blame!” Dr. DeMarco said. “Your mother—God, I loved your mother—but she went behind my back and did things she knew she shouldn’t do. She was asking questions, and it caught up to her before I knew what was happening.”

“What questions?” Carmine asked. “Why was she snooping?”

“Why did your mother do anything? She was trying to help.”

“Help who?”

“It doesn’t matter, Carmine.”

“Yes, it does,” he said. “I’d like to know who was so important that she’d risk everything for them. I wanna know who she’d willingly throw her life away for!”

His anger frightened Haven. Dr. DeMarco stared at his son, his expression blank but gaze intense. Carmine’s enraged expression softened as his brow furrowed, and he broke eye contact. Dropping his head down, he ran both hands through his hair as he blinked a few times.

“You’re too much like your mother, Carmine,” Dr. DeMarco said. “I can’t let history repeat itself. Not anymore.”

Carmine pushed his chair back, throwing his napkin down on the table. He bolted from the room without waiting to be excused and stomped up the stairs.

“Is this sit-down adjourned?” Dr. DeMarco asked. “I’d hate to walk out in the middle of it.”

“Yeah, it’s over,” Dominic said. “It was a failure, anyway.”

Dr. DeMarco stood up, patting his son on the back. “It wasn’t a failure. We’re walking away from it with our lives intact. We’re usually not that lucky in real sit-downs.”

*  *  *  *

A flood of emotion rushed through Carmine as he locked himself in his bedroom. Horror. Shock. Love. Longing. Gratitude. Anger. Remorse. All of it was so intense that he felt like he’d be sick.

“Fuck!”

He kicked the bed frame as he walked by it, tugging at his hair so hard his scalp throbbed. A ton of weight pressed against his chest, nearly crushing him with the force of the truth.

It was Haven. She was the reason his life had been shattered.

He started tossing things around, trying to release some pressure. His thoughts were convoluted as he shifted blame, trying to find logic where none could be found. Everything was supposed to be easy for him, so why did it feel so fucking complicated?

He caught sight of the picture frame on the desk and snatched it up. Staring at the smashed photograph of his mom with Haven’s blood smeared on the glass, tears of resentment stung his eyes.

Nothing had changed, but everything seemed different now.

He set the frame back down and stepped into the bathroom, his gaze falling on his muddled reflection in the mirror. His bloodshot, sorrowful eyes reminded him of her, and the last thread of control he’d been holding onto snapped.

His fist connected with the mirror. It cracked, shards of glass flying everywhere. He pounded on it in a rage, not slowing down until the last piece of glass was obliterated, his reflection gone from sight.

Emotion swirled through him again as he slid down to the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest. His anger gave way to despair as the tears started to fall. He surrendered to it, not having the willpower to fight anymore.

The anguish took over as he put his head down. He let himself slip under, wallowing in the misery of what he’d lost.

By the time Carmine resurfaced, the bathroom was encased in total darkness. He walked over to the sink, the glass from the mirror crunching under his shoes. Turning on the faucet, the cuts on his hand stung as he washed off the blood.

He grabbed a bottle of vodka from his stash and started down the stairs, pausing when he hit the second floor. The light was on in his father’s office. He didn’t bother to knock before stepping inside, kicking the door closed behind him. Plopping down in the leather chair, Carmine took a drink of the liquor.

“I never wanted to have to tell you,” Vincent said. “I thought it would be cruel, especially now.”

Carmine said nothing. Was he supposed to thank him?

Vincent leaned back in his chair. “Your mother asked me to save her, but Frankie Antonelli wouldn’t let the girl go. I told your mother to drop it, but I should’ve known she wouldn’t. She started taking money and couldn’t explain what she was doing with it. I shrugged it off back then and didn’t consider the fact that she was lying to me. She’d never given me a reason not to trust her.”

He paused, staring down at his desk. “I realized what she was doing, but it was already too late. I was too late.”

It all hit Carmine hard, and he blinked rapidly to ward off the tears. “Did she figure out the secret? Is that why they killed her?”

He shrugged. “Your mother was on the right track, even hired a private investigator, but I don’t think she put the pieces together. She didn’t have enough time.”

“And you blame Haven for it.”

“It’s not her fault,” Vincent said. “She was just a child.”

Carmine laughed bitterly. “You think I don’t fucking know that? Of course it’s not her fault. Doesn’t mean you don’t blame her anyway.”

Vincent stared at him for a moment before sighing. “Sometimes when we suffer a loss, we try to place blame on a single cause. ‘Disproportionate Responsibility’ is what they call it. Makes it easier to cope when you can channel your grief and anger somewhere tangible so—”

“Cut the medical bullshit. It’s a scapegoat.”

“Scapegoat,” he repeated. “You’re right. I blamed her, because it was easy to. I’ve come to grips with it for the most part, which is why I felt it was safe to bring her here. But yes, I do still have moments where I slip back into that mindset and wish she didn’t exist.”

Carmine could hear the regret in his voice, the tinge of disgust. “Was it Frankie that did it? Is he the one that had her killed?”

Vincent nodded. “A few years ago, Sal told me Frankie panicked about your mother asking questions, said it was because the Antonelli’s son fathered the girl. He didn’t want his family’s dirty little secret to come out. It’s kill or be killed in our world, son.”

“Your world,” he corrected him. “There’s no ‘our’ about it. I want nothing to do with any of it.”

Carmine could feel the vodka burning through his veins. He ran his hand through his hair, cringing at the pain. His father frowned. “You must’ve been pounding on something hard.”

“Just had a small mishap with a mirror.”

“You should go to the hospital for an x-ray.”

Carmine held up his bottle of vodka. “I have all the medicine I need right here.”

He took another swig of it as his father muttered. “You drink too much.”

“Yeah, well, we all have our vices.”

“I pity your liver, heading straight for cirrhosis at seventeen. It's going to kill you if you keep it up.”

“We all gotta die at some point, Dad,” he said. “May as well go out for something I love.”

He brought the bottle to his lips to take another drink, and as the liquid started flowing, it struck him what he’d said. That was exactly what his mom had done.

Wordlessly, Carmine climbed to his feet and headed back to the third floor, going straight for Haven’s room. She was clinging to her pillow, curled in the fetal position. The ache returned to his chest. He felt like his heart was going to explode, shattering into a million pieces like the mirror in his bathroom.

Something sparked deep down inside of him then, a part that overrode the resentment. It was the part of him that needed her just as much as she needed him, the part that loved her more than anything.

His emotions took over yet again as he slipped into her bed, his voice cracking when he pulled her to him. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Carmine.”

The words ran through him, choking him up. She softly stroked his arms that were wrapped around her, her fingers trembling against his skin. He wished there were answers he could give her to make it all better, but all he had was a simple word. “
Sempre
.”

Driving to the hospital the next morning wasn’t easy with a sore wrist, but Carmine managed to make it there without wrecking the car.

He parked in the spot reserved for his father and headed inside, walking up to the woman working behind the desk in the ER. He held his hand up to show her, and she nodded, no words necessary. He followed her to an exam room right away, and she told him someone would be in momentarily.

The door opened after a few minutes, and he breathed a sigh of relief until the shrill voice rang out. “Wow, I see the old Carmine DeMarco is making a comeback. Relationship problems?”

He groaned. As if his week hadn’t been bad enough. “Fuck off, Jen.”

Chapter 31

The sound of the bell rang through the brightly lit room. There was a collective shuffling as the students gathered their things. Carmine closed his science book awkwardly with his left hand but made no move to get out of his seat. His right wrist was in a bandage, sprained from the incident in his bathroom.

“Don't forget to study, folks!” the biology teacher, Mr. Landon, called out as the students filed from the room. “Quiz tomorrow!”

Carmine climbed to his feet and grabbed his backpack before strolling to the teacher’s desk. Mr. Landon was erasing the board and turned, caught off guard to see him standing there. “Carmine, is there something I can help you with?”

“I was wondering if you could explain what mtDNA is.”

Mr. Landon pursed his lips. “We covered that at the beginning of the semester.”

“Yeah, I know, but I'm still a bit confused.”

Truthfully, he hadn't paid a damn bit of attention then. Carmine always relied on luck and common sense when it came to passing tests, and most of the time he had just enough of both to get by.

“Oh. Well, mtDNA is mitochondrial DNA. Unlike nuclear DNA, it isn't unique to us. We share it with our mothers.”

“Mothers? So my mtDNA would be the same as my mom’s?”

“Yes, just as it’s the same as her mother, and her mother’s mother, and so on. Males don’t contribute to it.”

“But can they be traced through it? I mean, say mine was tested. Who would it match?”

“People related to your mother. Whatever a person’s mtDNA is, it came directly from the maternal side.”

Carmine was stunned. He’d naturally assumed it had something to do with Haven's father and his connections to the mob, never considering the fact that it could deal with Haven's mom.

“Is that all you needed?” Mr. Landon asked.

“Yeah,” he said, hesitating before shaking his head. “Actually, no. Do you know anything about GPS?”

“What specifically do you want to know?”

“Is there a way to disable a signal?”

“Well, there are certainly ways to block them,” he said. “GPS chips need a line of sight to the satellite tracking them, so any big obstruction will keep the signal from getting out. Also, certain reflective materials like water or metal can cause the signal to bounce back.”

“Is it the same for tracking chips in people?”

Mr. Landon snickered. “That’s only in science-fiction. Human tracking chips don't exist.”

Bullshit. Just because the FDA hadn't approved them for use didn't mean they weren't out there. “Hypothetically speaking. If a person did have one implanted under their skin, is there a way they could keep from being found?”

“They could stay in a windowless room or learn to breathe underwater. Otherwise, it would likely connect to the satellite as soon as they stepped out into the open.”

“So basically becoming a prisoner or drowning is the only way to disrupt it.”

“I'd think so, yes. There's no way to say for certain, though, since it’s completely hypothetical. There are a lot of unknown variables, like where it’s implanted and how it transmits.”

“Thanks.”

“You're welcome.” Carmine turned to leave when Mr. Landon called his name. “You've been doing well lately. Your inquisitiveness gives me hope for further progress, so keep it up.”

Carmine smiled to himself as he walked out. While his teacher was proud, his father would flip if he knew he’d asked those questions.

Once again, Carmine found himself in the corridor at school, gazing through the glass window at his brother in the library. The late bell rang as he stood there, officially making him late for Mrs. Chavis’s English class.

After debating for a moment, he made his way into the library. Dominic barely even gave him a look before turning back to the computer, his fingers flying across the keys.

“Hacking the school servers again?” Carmine asked, leaning against the desk beside him.

“You know it, bro, but I’m still not changing your grades.”

“I don’t need my grades changed,” he said. “There is something else you might be able to do for me, though. Do you think you can block a GPS signal?”

Dominic stopped typing and turned to him. “What do you mean?”

“Haven has a GPS chip implanted under her skin. Can you block it?”

He stared at him incredulously. “No way.”

“She does, but I don’t know how it’s tracked. I’m assuming through some sorta software or something.”

“How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. You’re the computer whiz. You tell me.”