He already signed the papers, Nonna. I looked down at my hands, which had woven themselves together at my waist. Im going to go.
There was silence. Then a sharp intake of breath. And then an explosion.
I didnt speak Italian, but based on the emphatic gestures and the way she was spitting out the words, I was able to make an educated guess at a translation.
Nonnas granddaughter was moving cross-country to enroll in a government-sponsored gifted program over her dead and rotting corpse.
The noise built to a crescendo, and I drew into myself and waited for it to pass. Eventually, theyd notice that I wasnt saying anything.
Cassie, sweetheart, arent you happy here? one of my aunts asked finally. The rest of the table fell silent.
Im I couldnt say any more than that. I saw the realization pass over their faces. Its not that Im not happy, I interjected quickly. Its just
For once, they heard what I wasnt saying. From the moment theyd learned of my existence, Id been family to them. They hadnt realized that in my own eyes, Id always beenand maybe always would bean outsider.
I need to do this, I said, my voice as quiet as theirs had been loud. For my mom.
That was closer to the truth than Id ever meant to tell them.
You think your mother would have wanted you to do this? Nonna asked. To leave the family that loves you, that will take care of you, to go off to the other side of the country, alone, to do God knows what?
It was meant as a rhetorical question, but I answered it: vehemently, decisively.
Yes. I paused, expecting an argument, but I didnt get one. I know you dont like it,
and I hope you dont hate me for it, but I have to do this. I stood up. I leave in three days. Id really like to come back for Christmas, but if you dont want me here, Id understand.
Nonna crossed the room in a second, surprisingly spry for someone her age. She poked a vicious finger into my chest. You come home for Christmas, she said in a manner that made it quite clear she considered it an order. You even think about not coming home? She narrowed her eyes and drew her poking finger across her neck in a menacing fashion. Capisce?
A smile tugged at the edge of my lips, and tears burned in my eyes. Capisce.
CHAPTER 6
I do not like this, Nonna told me for maybe the thousandth time.
I know. I brushed a kiss against her temple, and she cupped my head in her hands.
You be good, she said fiercely. You be careful. Your father, she added, as an afterthought. I am going to kill him.
I glanced back over my shoulder and saw Michael standing with his back to a gleaming black Porsche. From a distance, I couldnt make out the expression on his face, but I had a suspicion that he wasnt having any trouble interpreting my feelings.
Ill be careful, I told Nonna, turning my back on the boy with the discerning eye. Promise.
Eh, she said finally. How much trouble can you get into? There are only a few students in the entire school.
A few students who were being trained to analyze crime scenes, pore over witness testimony, and track serial killers. What trouble could we possibly get into?
Without another word, I hauled my bag out to the car. Nonna followed and, when Michael opened the trunk but made no move to help me with my bag, she shot him a disapproving look.
You are just going to stand there? she asked.
With an almost imperceptible smirk, Michael took the bag from my hand and hoisted it effortlessly into the trunk. Then he leaned close, into my personal space, and whispered, And here Id pegged you as the kind of girl whod want to do the heavy lifting herself.
Nonna eyed me. She eyed Michael. She eyed what little space there was between the two of us. And then she made a harrumphing sound.
Anything happens to her, she told Michael, this familywe know how to dispose of a body.
Instead of giving in to the mortification and burying my head in my hands, I said good-bye to Nonna and climbed into the car. Michael followed suit.
Sorry about that, I said.
Michael arched one eyebrow. About the death threat, or the imaginary chastity belt shes fitting you with as we speak?
Shut up.
Oh, come on, Cassie. I think its nice. You have a family that cares.
Maybe he thought that was nice, and maybe he didnt. I dont want to talk about my family.
Michael grinned, completely undeterred. I know.
I thought back to what Agent Briggs had told me about Michaels gift.
You read emotions, I said.
Facial expressions, posture, gestures, the works, he said. You nibble on the inside of your lip when youre nervous. And you get this little wrinkle at the corner of your right eye when youre trying not to stare.
He said all of this without ever taking his eyes off the road. My gaze flitted to the speedometer, and I realized how fast we were going.
Do you want to get pulled over? I squeaked.
He shrugged. Youre the profiler, he said. You tell me. He eased off the accelerator ever so slightly. Thats what profilers do, isnt it? You look at the way a person is dressed, or the way a person talks, every little detail, and you put that person in a box. You figure out what kind of individual youre dealing with, and you convince yourself that you know exactly what everyone else wants.