Page 8 of What’s Left of You (What Left #2)

Vinny points me towards the downstairs bathroom to clean up, and I take my time collecting my thoughts after the surprising visit.

When I return to the kitchen I find the coffee cup waiting for me, and while I’m sitting there taking a sip my phone buzzes.

It’s Gabe, giving me an update I already expected, and it makes me groan as I grip the mug.

How did I let the two of them distract me like this?

There are serious things happening and getting tangled up with a married couple isn’t something I have time for right now.

Not to mention a married couple who are knee-deep into our investigation.

There’s a killer on the loose, and we need to go over the details of the murder to decide if the killer is Porscha or Alastair. Or both.

Fuck me. This is getting out of hand. These two almost took off back to Colorado, and then the breakout changed their plans again. Weeks spent toiling away in Florida makes no difference when the case isn’t moving.

Dragging a hand through my hair, I try and not throw the phone. Porscha came out of the shadows like a literal ghost, upending everything we thought we knew about the Citrus Grove Slayer. The victimology is twisted, and some things make sense if the original killer was a woman but not everything…

“You should sound more grateful,” Vinny says, returning to the room upstairs first. I shove my phone into my pocket and glance his way, watching as he crosses to the coffee machine and starts another cup. “I could’ve made you wait.”

I clear my throat, images from a few minutes ago rolling through my head. This is not how I expected to spend the afternoon. “I didn’t come over for a show.”

He chuckles, dropping in a spoonful of sugar before the coffee starts to pour into his cup. He turns, reaching into the fridge to pull out the milk. “I know you didn’t, Agent . You’re something Jo wanted, so I offered you to her. I don’t see you complaining.”

I don’t know what to say to that. Vinny was always a bit of an enigma, not in the same way Alastair was years ago.

Alastair didn’t fit in, he had quirks and oddities that caused him to stick out in memorable ways.

Vinny was popular, handsome, and his family had history throughout the town and through central Florida.

He had a presence, but he never masqueraded as a carbon copy of his father Massimo.

I save myself from responding by taking another long sip of the coffee, and he just smirks while he waits.

Vinny shakes his head as he looks away from me. “You’re so serious, Sterling. You remind me of Edwin sometimes.”

I frown. Every time these two mention my father it’s negative.

He’s not the easiest person to work with, but he did do a lot of good work.

I didn’t think he was that hard on either of them during the interrogations, no more so than any other suspects.

Until Jo was abducted and nearly killed they were just two faces in a long list of suspects, though they were never viable candidates.

Dad just had no leads. “You don’t like my father though, Vinny. ”

“That’s putting it lightly,” he replies, glancing down at the coffee.

It finishes brewing and the machine makes a little dinging noise that would drive me mad after a day or two.

He studies the color of the drink, looking satisfied with it, and places the milk in the fridge again. “You do work for the FBI, don’t you?”

“Asking rhetorical questions-”

“You should dig around through Daddy’s old file,” he continues, picking up the mug. “If you can’t find any complaints, someone destroyed them.”

My frown deepens. I’ve heard Jo mutter some things about Dad, but to be honest most of the time I just dismiss them. “What are you talking about?”

He just shakes his head. “Do your own research, Agent. Don’t tell me you’ve turned a blind eye to Daddy Dearest?”

“I’m working on the case,” I remind him. “The one with Jo’s attacker, remember? That’s my priority, Vinny, not some old notes about my dad’s past.”

“They could be the same,” he replies with a shrug. “If you haven’t looked into it, how do you know?”

I bite my tongue and look away, chugging the rest of my coffee instead.

I’m not oblivious; Dad wasn’t a saint. I asked Gabe to look into things at one point, see if any of the past complaints might be tied to the Copycat.

He vaguely mentioned Jo’s name on the long list of unhappy witnesses, but he didn’t go into detail.

If I looked into my father’s past, I would obsess over anything he might have done wrong.

I can’t be distracted like that with a sixth victim popping up and two killers lost in the wind.

Even if Porscha wasn’t the original Citrus Grove Slayer, she could be taking up the mantle and idolizing the former killer.

It’s twisted, but obsessions rarely make sense.

Vinny’s phone rings, and I glance around expecting to see Jo. She still hasn’t returned since Vinny handed her a coffee and the two of them went upstairs. Maybe she doesn’t plan to.

He sighs, glancing at me, before picking up the call. “Non ora, Pap à. ”

I raise a brow. He doesn’t speak Italian with Xeno, at least not from what I’ve seen.

Sounds like his dad is making the call, and if my Italian were better I might be able to eavesdrop.

I only ever picked up a little bit of the language working different cases.

Taking out my phone, I open the app before I go and respond to Gabe’s last text.

Vinny can be pissed later, but he’s openly chatting with me in the room.

“ Ti ho già avvertito di stare fuori da questa faccenda. Se avessi bisogno di aiuto da questa famiglia, lo chiederò a Xeno. Stai lontano da mia moglie .”

He hangs up as I finish my text back to Gabe, reading the translation box as the words appear. If Vinny doesn’t expect me to be sneaky, he’s greatly underestimating me. He can hate on my dad just as much as I hate on his.

“The self-righteous bastard can’t take a fucking hint,” he continues in Italian, and my brows lift when the app catches onto the rest of what he’s said.

It’s not perfect, but I like knowing what everyone around me is saying and Vinny’s distracted at the moment.

“Sterling, I swear to fuck if you’re recording this shit to get a translation later save your breath.

It’s just more of my father’s bullshit.”

I lift my gaze in surprise. I don’t consider Vinny to be ignorant or non observant, he just seems consumed by his own issues at the moment. “Of course.”

He glares at me, his dark eyes nearly matching his hair this morning. The tattoo across his throat moves as he clenches his jaw, turning his gaze away. “You did record me though?”

“Don’t act surprised.”

“Well, let’s hear it then. What did you glean from my conversation with the great Massimo?”

I’m kind of surprised he just comes out and says it after being dodgy a moment ago. I glance down at the translation app, my mind drifting back to another moment in time where I caught him arguing with his father in Italian. An app would’ve been spectacular fifteen years ago.

“You disappoint me, figlio,” Massimo said, standing with Vinny at the edge of the park.

It’s a common area in Citrus Grove, and Jo lingers a few steps behind her boyfriend.

His hand is locked on hers, but I’m not really sure who is holding onto who.

“I lay out the perfect life for you, and you chose this.”

I’m standing nearby with the reporter I’m shadowing, but the news he’s digging for has nothing to do with Massimo and Vinny. He’s barely paying attention, looking around like we might spot the Citrus Grove Slayer walking somewhere out in the open acting obvious as shit.

“I’m choosing my own life, Papa,” Vinny replies, squaring his shoulders. I’m too focused on them to look away. “Not the life you intend for me.”

“ Figlio mio, mi deludi . Questa ragazza ti porterà miseria, non amore. Non voltare le spalle alla famiglia per quella sgualdrina. ”

Vinny snapped forward, striking his father square in the jaw.

I shifted on my feet, peering around the space.

I’m supposed to be taking notes on anything suspicious, but it’s a nice day out and I wanted to enjoy the weather before it’s unbearably hot.

The guy I’m shadowing, Desmond, still looks disinterested until people around us move.

A few not so discreet bystanders pull guns. Members of the Ajello Crime Family litter the park, and I guess even Massimo’s heir can’t get away with striking the Don.

But it doesn’t turn into a fight. Massimo stumbles backward from the force of the hit, and a kid blows past Jo to get in between Massimo and Vincenzo.

It takes me a moment to recognize Xeno from this distance, holding his hands up between the two.

I think it’s the only reason the whole park doesn’t break into gunfire.

“The Ajello’s always draw attention,” Desmond says, looking towards me.

“They are only intriguing because you can’t understand them.

Take some language classes. Massimo said ‘son, you disappoint me. This girl will bring you only misery, not love. Do not turn your back on the family for that hussy’. ”

I wince. No wonder Vinny lost it. I don’t really know them well, but he’s being a good boyfriend not accepting that kind of disrespect from his father. I turn my attention away again, thinking maybe Desmond has the right idea

The group is too far away to hear what Xeno says quietly to his brother and father, but I see Massimo’s hand move from his gun as he huffs.

Xeno looks back at his brother, and I can see the pain in his younger brother’s gaze.

Massimo’s mouth moves, but I can’t fathom what he’s saying in Italian again.

Then he grabs his younger son's shoulder, turning as the two of them march from the park and leave Jo and Vinny behind.