Envy by Eve Marian

18

Natacha

Muffled laughter hit me before Charlotte even opened her apartment door. “Hey, you’re finally here. Come in.” She waved me inside. “Natacha, this is Jamie, Anuja, Nadja, Nita, and you know Dave.” She winked, and Dave grinned back at me.

Hiding my frown, I held up the box of pastries I’d purchased on my way over. “They’re your favorite. Chocolate eclairs.”

“Ah, thank you.” Charlotte leaned in and hugged me. “All is forgiven now.”

We laughed because the way to both of our hearts was definitely through our stomachs. Maybe I could cook Charlotte dinner one night. That would impress her. We’d only ever ordered takeout for dinner.

The group gathered around the kitchen table, glasses of wine already in hand. “What can I get you?” asked Charlotte.

“I’ll just have what everyone else is having.”

I took a seat on the couch opposite the TV. Charlotte’s chenille sofa was the softest and most comfortable one I’d ever sat on.

I plugged into the conversation around me; there was some talk about investing in the real estate market and start-up stocks. But I tuned it out, as I couldn’t get the image of Chase frustrated in Giancarlo’s office out of my head. What could he want from someone like Giancarlo? How did they even know each other?

“Penny for your thoughts?” Dave sat on the couch next to me. His knee brushed up against mine.

I shook the cobwebs from my head. “Sorry, I was somewhere else for a minute.”

“Well, that’s no good. I like you just where you are.”

I smiled weakly at his compliment. I wasn’t sure if Dave was truly interested in me or if I was some sort of challenge to him. It didn’t matter.

“I haven’t seen you around the apartment in a while. You didn’t move out, did you?”

Charlotte passed me a glass of white wine. “Thanks,” I said, grabbing the stem. Then to Dave, “No. I’ve just been busy at work.”

“Oh? What do you do? I asked Charlotte, but she said you were in bookkeeping or something.”

Charlotte was the only friend I’d ever told I was a PI. She knew I used the bookkeeping cover-up and went with it herself. “That’s right. Our office is downtown. We have quite a few clients to keep us busy.”

“Well, I might have to come check it out sometime.”

“Why?” I asked.

He frowned, and his brow creased. “Well… uh… you never know when you’ll need a good bookkeeper.”

“Don’t waste your time. We’re all pretty much the same.”

He laughed uncomfortably. “You sure are straightforward, aren’t you?”

“I don’t see the need to give platitudes.”

“Some would call it pleasantries.”

“I wouldn’t call it that. You’d only be wasting your time coming to my office. We really couldn’t help you.”

“How do you know?”

I smiled and sipped my wine. Because I don’t know the first thing about bookkeeping. “We’re not taking on new clients right now.”

He sighed and hid a smile with his hand. “Fine. Then I’ll be just as upfront.” He turned toward me and hiked his leg onto the couch. “Can I call you sometime?”

My phone rang at that moment, and despite the caller ID, I was relieved by the interruption. I held up a finger. “Excuse me a minute.”

I stood from the couch and took the call a few feet away. “Hello?”

A familiar deep voice hummed in my ear. “Hi. Where are you?”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. An image of the security footage flashed in my head, but my chest tightened at the sound of Giancarlo’s voice.

“I’m at my friend Charlotte’s place.” I looked at my friend and our eyes met. A question formed in her gaze, and I turned my back, hoping it wouldn’t bring her over.

“I thought you’d be here tonight. I wasn’t expecting to find you gone.”

“I know. But Charlotte invited me and I haven’t been around, so…”

“I need you.” His raspy voice cut through my ramblings. “When are you coming back?” After a pause, he added, “I brought home dessert.”

I bit my lip, imagining what sort of dessert he’d planned to share with me… over me… and on me. I inhaled sharply and ran a hand through my hair. “I’m not. I’ll be here for the rest of the night.”

“Natacha, are you all right?” With my back turned, I hadn’t seen Dave approach.

“Who’s that?” Giancarlo asked, his voice deathly calm.

I pulled the phone from my ear. “I’m fine, Dave. I’ll be right there.”

“Who’s Dave?” Giancarlo asked.

As I watched Dave return to the kitchen, I answered, “Dave Guertin, I think. He lives in this building.”

There was dead air on the other end. “Giancarlo?”

“Yeah.” His voice sounded far away.

“Anyway, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When he didn’t respond, I hung up.

I trudged back to the kitchen where everyone was milling around, holding a glass of wine in their hands. I caught Charlotte’s eyes. She was worried, judging by the concern etched around them. I smiled, hoping to comfort her, even though I wasn’t too sure how I truly felt inside.

I thought coming here would be a distraction, but I couldn’t get away from Giancarlo, even when I was physically not around him. I remembered when he’d held my hand on the airplane, or how tightly he’d held me after we made love, and despite his rough words, he cared for his family. Yet, I couldn’t deny what I saw in the video. He had met with Chase right before his accident.

A phone rang. I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out my phone, but it wasn’t mine that had rung.

Dave, next to me, slid his finger across his screen. “Hello?”

He paused, listening on the other end. I poured myself another glass of wine as I contemplated what I would say to Giancarlo the next day.

“Yes, this is Dave Guertin. Who is this?”

Dave’s face turned pale and his head snapped toward me. “Uh, huh.” He stared at me, and his eyes held mine in a tight grip. “Yes… I… uh… I understand.” He swallowed and his Adam’s Apple bobbed furiously back and forth.

A bead of sweat formed on Dave’s brow. He hung up the phone and finally broke eye contact with me.

Something was wrong. I stepped closer to Dave and he stepped two feet away. A chill ran down my spine. “Who was that?” I asked.

Dave brought his glass to his lips. His hand trembled, sloshing wine along the side of the cup. “Um. No one.”

I turned to face him, narrowing my eyes. “It didn’t sound like no one. You seem upset. Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“Definitely not,” he laughed, without humor. “Especially not with you.”

I frowned, and my suspicion grew. “Was that Giancarlo Rossi?”

He nodded and took a quick sip of his wine.

How the hell did Giancarlo get his number so quickly? And why would he call him?

“What did he say?”

“I’m not supposed to tell you.”

I sighed. “I won’t say anything to him. I just want to know what he said.”

He shook his head. I grabbed Dave by the shoulders and pushed him away from the kitchen. “I’m not kidding. I want to know what he said to you.”

He lowered his head and whispered. “He said if I touched you, he would—”

I raised my eyebrows, waiting for the rest, but Dave looked around the room for help. I grabbed his face, forcing him to look at me. “He would?”

He closed his eyes. “He would rip my balls off and feed them to me.”

My heart raced and my head screamed: This is messed up! A normal guy wouldn’t say something like that. A normal guy wouldn’t threaten a stranger just because he was talking to his girl. Would he? No, he wouldn’t.

But Giancarlo wasn’t a normal guy. In my head, I knew that. But my stubborn heart wanted to believe he was. He was just an average business owner, working and coming home for dinner.

“What else did he say?”

“There was nothing else to say,” Dave scoffed. “I’m sorry, Natacha. But I just won’t risk it.”

Dave moved his hips awkwardly, as though his balls hurt just thinking about it.

Coward.

“He wouldn’t actually do it.”

“Are you serious? I wouldn’t bet against a man like him.”

I was beginning to think the same.

*

The next morning, I drove to the police station. When Chase died, I spent hours watching street cams and pouring over the details of the car that had swerved, essentially pushing Chase off the road. No IT specialist could get the image of the license plate clear enough for us to locate the vehicle. It was a dead end. Today, I wanted to know if I would recognize the car as one of Giancarlo’s.

The thought made it difficult for me to breathe. I felt conflicted. I wanted to know who had done this to Chase and why, but I didn’t want it to be Giancarlo.

I approached the large wooden desk at reception. “Hey Jess,” I said to the officer standing there. “How’s it going?”

“It’s going. How can I help you, Natacha?”

“I want to see the videos again.”

Jess sighed. “Really? Haven’t you watched them enough? There’s nothing there. You need to move on.”

Anger boiled in my stomach. It was easy for her to say it wasn’t her boyfriend who died that night. “I will move on when I solve what happened that night. Can I see them or not?”

She pushed off the desk and opened the door, leading to the foyer, allowing me inside. “Come on. Knock yourself out.”

She led me toward the back of the station, and inside a dark musty room. “You know your way around, right?”

“Yeah.”

She closed the door behind me and I sat down. Surrounded by TV screens and filing cabinets, my mind transported me back to more than a year ago. The feeling of loss and hopelessness fell like an axe slicing through my heart.

I couldn’t breathe.

Oh, god. I can’t do this.

It felt like an entire year hadn’t passed and I was right where I began thirteen months ago. Despair took hold of my thoughts, and I could hardly move.

Pull yourself together. You have to do this. You won’t move on if you don’t.

Closing my eyes, I pushed past the pain and reached for the mouse, and jiggled it back and forth on the pad. The computer screen lit up and I opened my eyes.

The files hadn’t changed, and I knew exactly where I had saved all the footage. I pulled up the first video, and the camera shot was head-on. The headlights blurred most of the image, but from this angle, it wasn’t an accident. A car pulled up beside Chase for a few seconds before swerving into him, maneuvering his car toward the ditch. I closed my eyes before his car fell in. I couldn’t bear to watch it again.

I pulled up one of the best angles, the one from the back. This one had the most promise. It was dark, but I was certain the other car had a black exterior with white racing stripes in the front. But, in the back, there was also an emblem over the license plate. A shape, one that wasn’t helpful before, but now something clicked.

I’d seen this symbol on a car before. On Giancarlo’s driveway.

I zoomed in on the license plate. The numbers were blurry, but the shape of a snake was clear.

My heart raced and I dropped my head in my hands; my labored breaths fanning the keyboard. I sucked in a painful breath. Both relief and trepidation filled me.

I’d done it. I’d figured it out.

But I didn’t feel any better.