Page 77 of Harbor

Renzo felt cold—he didn’t know why; there was no particular reason for that chill to seep into his bones like it suddenly had without warning. And still, he practically shivered on the spot. Stilling in place, he listened to the sounds coming from the house. Anything to tell him where his uncle might be inside the bungalow. The only thing he could hear were the normal sounds of a home.

A shuddering pipe—the hot water moving through old pipes always made the strangest noises.

A radio humming—Micheal kept one going on the back porch, rain or shine.

The TV—it sounded like the news, maybe.

“Micheal?” Renzo called out.

Silence answered him back.

Renzo took one step deeper into the house, and then another. He only stopped when he came to the entrance of the kitchen, and it was there that he found his uncle.

Or rather, he caught sight of his uncle’s sockless, blue-tinted feet peeking out around the corner of the kitchen island. Renzo froze in place as his gaze seemed to narrow in on the sight in front of him. The package of fireworks under his arm fell to the floor with a light thud. It took his mind entirely too long to process the sight he was seeing, and what it meant. In his heart, there he knew. He could tell by the bluish-gray tint to his uncle’s feet, and the motionless way they just stuck up from the floor.

That didn’t stop him from rushing forward, though. Even though a cold fear sliced through his heart, and fear was reverberating inside his veins with every step he took, Renzo still moved fast to enter the kitchen and cross the space. The slick linoleum of the floor made him slip as he rounded the kitchen island, and he barely caught himself from falling right on top of his uncle’s dead body.

Instead, he fell beside it.

That was bad enough.

Sickness crawled higher in his throat. His fingers flexed against the cold floor. He stared at dead eyes.

He saw the wire around his uncle’s throat, and the way Micheal’s mouth was stuck in a soundless, grotesque scream. He saw the note on Micheal’s chest second, though. He didn’t even need to touch it to read the words written in perfect script across the plain white, torn piece of paper.

He didn’t need to touch it, but he still reached out and picked it up. Maybe a stupid part of him thought if he focused on the note, then he wouldn’t have to keep staring at his uncle’s body. Not that it mattered because even as he held the note between his shaking fingers, his gaze continued to drift between the words on the paper, and his uncle right beside him.

You move fast, it read, but we move faster. We’ll be taking her back now.

Renzo couldn’t get up off that floor fast enough. And even then, he felt like he might be too late.

• • •

Renzo almost threw his cell phone to the ground in desperation when the second call he tried to make to Lucia didn’t go through. Somehow, his stupid fucking brain clicked that no, it wouldn’t be a good idea to destroy the only way he had to contact her.

Problem was, Renzo had only gotten Lucia a burner phone a couple days ago—she didn’t really turn the damn thing on unless he was out working, and then Diego mostly just used it to call him.

She didn’t have a reason to use it.

“Come on, pick up,” Renzo growled under his breath, redialing and putting the phone to his ear again. “Pick up, Lucia, fuck.”

A cab—empty, it looked like—passed him by on the street. Like he would if he was in New York, he tried to hail it as it sped on by. He could get to their apartment a hell of a lot faster by a cab than he could walking the several blocks. Instead of stopping to pick up Renzo, the cab kept going.

He swore under his breath, and flipped the asshole his middle finger.

Fuck you, too.

His mind was still thick with panic. His heart, pumping beats that echoed fear. He didn’t even know how he was able to walk without stumbling over each step he took, but somehow, Renzo managed it.

He was closer to Lucia.

Closer to Diego.

That’s all his mind cared about in those seconds.

“Pick up,” he mumbled into the phone again.

Scrubbing a hand down his jaw, his desperation peaked to an even higher level as he eyed the street and didn’t see another cab coming. Was he already too fucking late?