Bloodhound

THE LAST WARNING BLOODHOUND The lights went out at 11:14. Rosa had been staring at her phone, waiting for a text that wasn’t coming. The lamp beside her bed flickered once and died. Then the hallway light. Then the soft hum of the refrigerator downstairs disappeared. She sat up in the dark and listened. Their house never went quiet like this. Her father kept the security lights on all night. He even had a generator wired in so the power wouldn’t fail. He’d been careful about everything since her mother died. It used to embarrass her when she was younger. Now she was twenty-four and understood. She got out of bed and went to the window. The garden was completely black. No floodlights. No light from the pool house. Just shapes she already knew. She heard her father’s study door open down the hall. “Papa?” No answer. Footsteps came fast, not his usual steady walk. She opened her door and saw him hurrying past. He still had on his shirt from dinner. Sleeves pushed up. A leather folder under one arm. “Papa, what’s happening?” He stopped and looked at her. It was the kind of look he used to give her when she was little and thought he could fix anything. “Go to your room,” he said. “Lock the door.” “You’re scaring me.” “Good. Being scared is the right thing right now. You can be calm later.” He came over and took her face in both hands. His hands were shaking. She had never seen that before. “Whatever you hear tonight, don't come downstairs. You don’t open a window. You don’t answer your phone unless it’s me. If it’s not me, don’t answer it at all. Do you understand?” “No. I don’t understand any of this.” “Rosa.” Just her name, sharp enough to stop her. Outside, a car door closed. Quiet. Careful. His eyes moved to the window, then back to her. Something settled in his face. He pushed the leather folder into her hands. “There’s a letter inside. Don’t open it tonight. Not unless I’m not back by morning. Do you hear me? Not unless I’m not back by sunrise.” “Papa” “Promise me.” “I promise.” His hands were still shaking. She didn’t argue. He kissed her forehead and stayed there a second longer than usual. “I love you more than anything I’ve built,” he said. “Remember that, no matter what anyone tells you.” Then he was gone, taking the stairs two at a time. She heard the front door, gravel under his shoes, an engine starting past the gate. After that, nothing. Just the dark house and Rosa standing there with the folder. She didn’t sleep. She sat on the floor with her back against the door, the folder in her lap, and watched the window go from black to grey to the pale color that comes right before dawn. At 5:52, headlights crossed her ceiling. She was at the window before she thought about it. Two black cars were parked at odd angles. Men got out. Four of them, then a fifth from the second car. Even from up here she knew how he moved. Slow. Like the world made room for him. Enzo Marchetti. Her stomach dropped. Her father had always said that name like it was something dirty. She headed for the stairs. Whatever had scared her father was still out there, and now this man was on their lawn. She reached the front door just as it opened from the outside. No knock. Enzo stepped in wearing a dark coat. Two men stood a few steps behind him. Up close, he looked younger than the stories, and colder. He looked at her like he’d already made up his mind about her. “Where is he?” Rosa asked. Her voice came out steadier than she felt. “That’s what I came to ask you.” “Get out of my house.” “Your father’s not answering his phone,” Enzo said, as she hadn’t spoken. “Neither is anyone who works for him. That means one of two things happened tonight, and neither is good for you.” “I don’t need you to tell me about my father. I need you to leave.” Something moved behind his eyes, quickly, then gone. Not soft. Just calculating. “Pack a bag. You’re coming with me.” She almost laughed. “I’m sorry, what?” “You heard me.” “You’re the last person I’d go anywhere with. My father spent my whole life warning me about you.” “Your father is missing,” Enzo said, quieter now. “And whatever he was mixed up in didn’t just put him in danger. It puts a target on you the second he leaves.” “You don’t know anything about what my father was doing.” “I know more than you do tonight.” His eyes went to the folder still held against her chest. “And I know whoever came for him won’t stop there.” “Then call the police. Call whoever handles this. I’m not going with you.” Enzo stepped closer. Not aggressive. Almost careful, like she might bolt. “Rosa.” It was the first time he’d said her name. She hated how deliberate it sounded. “Your father’s enemies aren’t the only ones looking for you.” The words hit somewhere under her ribs and stayed there. “What does that mean?” He didn’t answer. He just looked at her and waited. Behind her, upstairs, her phone started ringing.