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Now he stands beside the officer questioning me, shoulders rigid, his badge still clipped to the corner of his belt. He’s known me since I was a child. Gave me my First Communion rose at the altar one spring. I wonder if he even recognizes me now, curled in a blanket with tears drying on my cheeks and a stranger’s blood on my shoes.

“Lunetta,” the policewoman says again, gently. “Can you tell me what happened? Anything you remember—the moment he came in?”

I swallow hard. My fingers twist in the edge of the blanket.

“He just… walked in,” I whisper. “I thought—he looked like he was going to fall. I ran toward him. There was so much blood.”

“Did you know him?”

“No.” I shake my head quickly. “I’ve never seen him before.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

My lips part—just a little. I feel the words rising like steam in my chest.

Sheriff Caladori glances down at me. “Lunetta,” he says softly. “It’s alright. You can tell her.”

È tuo… Lunetta Sofia Fiore… they want to steal it… the gold… the diamonds…

Then I glance at Nonna.

She’s holding me so tightly now, her cheek pressed to the top of my head, still murmuring soft prayers against my hair. Her hands are warm, but they’re trembling too. I can feel it.

And Bea… Bea’s eyes haven’t left my face. Her brows are knit together, her lips pressed into that worried little line she always makes when she’s scared and trying not to show it.

I don’t want them to think—

I don’t want them to think I had anything to do with him. I don’t want the sheriff looking at Nonna like she’s hiding secrets. I don’t want Bea to start asking questions I don’t know how to answer.

So I lower my gaze and whisper, “No… he didn’t say anything.”

The lie slides from my lips like a stone dropped in water. The policewoman nods, scribbles it down, and I hear the scratch of her pen on the page like a crack of thunder in my chest.

Forgive me, Lord…

I stare down at my knees, jaw trembling, lashes wet.

Forgive me for lying. I didn’t want to. I didn’t mean to. But I saw Nonna’s face. I saw Bea’s eyes. I just didn’t want them to worry more. Please, please forgive me.

I press my palm to my heart, right where the cross on my necklace rests beneath my dress.

You know the truth, don’t You? Even if I don’t say it. Even if I’m afraid.

The officer thanks me gently and steps back, murmuring something to the sheriff.

I stay curled beneath the blanket, small and still, knees drawn close, lips moving in a quiet prayer no one hears.

Wash me clean. Please. I didn’t want to lie. I just… I didn’t want them to look at me different. I didn’t want them to think I’m dirty.

Nonna rocks me again, her hand brushing the curls from my face, humming something soft under her breath.

Bea leans closer and tucks the blanket higher around my shoulders. “You’re okay now,” she whispers. “It’s over.”

The man’s voice still echoes in my mind. His blood still stains the floor beneath my feet.

I lower my head and press my lips to the edge of the rosary wrapped around my wrist.

Please, Lord. Just let this be over. Please let it be over.