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“We’re handling it,” he replies cautiously. “You don’t need to worry. Leave that to me.”
“Lexie,” Zé says almost sternly, “it’s of the utmost importance that you don’t share any of this with anyone, especially Valentina.”
I don’t understand this line of reasoning. Keeping her in the dark just adds to the danger. “Don’t you think a heads-up would be helpful? How can she take any precautions if we don’t warn her about Marco’s friend?”
“We have no idea who the man is,” Rafael adds, “or if Marco is involved, or if Valentina is in any danger—although we’re proceeding as though she is. But if we tip her off, and she decides to go to Marco and he’s involved, or even if we can convince her to keep quiet but she starts to act strange around him, the danger for her increases exponentially. If I thought she would take our concerns seriously and stay away from him, I’d tell her in a heartbeat. But I can’t take that risk.”
I’m not sure he’s right. Valentina and Marco’s relationship has splintered some. Although I’m not sure there’s enough of a chasm to make her leave him. But not telling a grown woman she might be in danger seems irresponsible.
I glance at Tamar, who’s standing near her desk, examining the nearby floor, lips pulled into a tight, grim line. She doesn’t agree with Rafael, but she won’t go against him, at least not with me here. And forget Zé. He’d never take my side over Rafael’s.
I’m going to revisit this privately, but until then I won’t say a word. Honestly, I’m not even sure that I could convince her of the danger Marco’s client poses—and I doubt she’d believe Marco might be a danger. I’m too tied to Rafael for her to fully trust me about anything related to Marco.
57
LEXIE
The office phone buzzes while I’m preparing a memo for Tamar. Although I don’t recognize the number, it’s internal, and I accept the call. “Alexis Clarke.”
“Hey,” Valentina says, sounding upbeat. “Can you meet?”
“Sure. But why are you calling my office from that phone?” She always calls my cell phone, and given the whole thing with Marco and his client, everything that isn’t her usual behavior is worrisome. It’s not just me. Everyone’s worried.
Rafael’s managed to keep her in the building, although she insisted on sleeping at home the last two nights. There was nothing he could do without coming clean, and he’s adamant it’s a mistake to read her in.
Marco’s away, which in some ways is a blessing. Rafael added a ton of extra security around her house, and I would bet my life that every device she owns is feeding information to him.
“I’ll explain when I see you.”
“Do you want to meet upstairs?”
“I’ll come to you.” She disconnects the call before I can agree.
A few minutes later, she’s in my doorway, looking more than a little worn around the edges, with dark circles not just under, but around, her eyes.
I feel the color leave my cheeks. She was so chipper on the phone that her appearance catches me off-balance. “Come in,” I squeak.
Valentina shuts the door behind her and braces her back against it as though she needs it for support.
I don’t move. I can’t. “You’re scaring me.”
“Marco was the person who canceled the caterer.”
The blood whooshes in my ears. “What? How do you know?”
“Two nights ago, I accessed the alumni portal on Saint Philomena’s website to see if they’d done a tribute to Francesca.” I did the same thing last week. “I haven’t been on it for ages. I didn’t spend as much time at the school as you did, although I keep up with the news and with a handful of people—here and there.”
What does Saint Phil’s have to do with Marco and the caterer? “I don’t understand how this is connected to Marco and the caterer.”
She nods. “I’m not sure I understand, either. But I’ve spent the last thirty-six hours trying to piece it together.”
That explains the dark circles. There was a time not that long ago when she would have come to me immediately, and we would have figured it out together. She’s here now. You can help now. Focus. “Why don’t you come in and sit down?”
“I’m good,” she replies, shoulders dug into the door and a faraway look in her eyes.
“So you accessed the portal,” I prod when she doesn’t say anything. As much as I want to know, I’m almost afraid to hear the response. “What did you find?”
“You know how when you log in, it tells you the last time you were on the site and the device you were using?”
