Twenty-Three

They ran on what they thought was the main path, but soon they hit a dead end and had to turn back. Hollis got turned around. All around them were rows of marble crypts in light grays and ivory. Up close, each was a masterpiece of design, but it was a dizzying, and slightly unnerving, reminder that death was everywhere.

“What if we go to the left?”

“We’ve been left.”

“Then we’ll go right.”

“I think we’ve done that too.” Finn leaned against an iron railing and put his head down. “I know. Doctor’s appointment when we get home,” he said.

Hollis wanted to let him rest, but she couldn’t. “Let’s go left.”

Finn stood up. “When we find Declan, I’m going to kill that guy for doing this to us.”

“Which part? Bringing us down here as a pair of assassins or locking us in a crypt and leaving us to die?”

“I’m good with both reasons.”

Finn took a few steps and peeked around the corner. “It seems like the cemetery is getting quiet. Just a few tourists around. Maybe the gunman figured we left and stopped chasing us.”

“The weird thing is I don’t know if he was chasing us. He saw us, but we ran so quickly I don’t know if he ran after us or not.”

“Then let’s get out of here and worry about that later,” Finn said.

Hollis heard voices. “Sshhh.”

“He worked as a grave digger for over thirty years, carefully saving his money to have this mausoleum built with a statue of his likeness,” a voice from another row was saying. “When it was finished, the story goes, he went home and killed himself, so he could be buried in it.”

Hollis pointed to the right. “I remember that story from the tour.”

“You took a tour? You went souvenir shopping and you took a tour. Tell me again how worried you were about me.”

She ignored him. “The entrance is back that way.”

They moved quickly, passed two tour groups, joining them when they felt unsafe, then discarding them to move closer to the front. Eventually the white pillars of the cemetery’s entrance came into view. There was no sign of the gunman, of Declan, or of Peter. For a moment Hollis felt relief, but this was just one step. There was no way of knowing what was waiting for them at the hotel. What was waiting for that poor unsuspecting couple from the Netherlands.

They hailed the first taxi they saw and sank into the backseat. As they rode back toward Palermo and the hotel, Hollis ran through possible scenarios with Finn, even though his eyes were closed, and his head was against the back of the seat.

“If they’ve arrived, we can knock on their door and explain that the room has bugs or something, which is why we moved. That way they’ll go downstairs and get a different room,” she said.

“Fine.”

“But if they haven’t arrived, maybe we tell the clerk that we’ve decided we want our old room back.”

“So someone can come shoot us?”

“Do you want them to shoot innocent honeymooners?”

“Yes, Hollis. That’s what I want.”

Full sarcasm. He was feeling better. “I’m open to ideas.”

He put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. “My idea is that for the next twenty minutes, while we’re safe in this cab, I want to hold my wife.”

She snuggled next to him. “I want that couple to have as happy a marriage as we have.”

“Setting the bar kind of low.” She poked him. He laughed. “Bugs if they’re already in their room, switch back if they haven’t arrived. Everything will be fine,” he said.

She knew he was saying that just to get her to stop worrying, or just to stop talking about being worried. He needed rest, and as she closed her eyes she realized she did too. And food. The sandwiches had been hours ago. Finally being out of danger, however temporarily, allowed for her body to return to normal functioning, and it was shouting that she was hungry.

“Room service,” she said, more to herself than Finn.

“Steak,” he answered. “The steak is famous in Argentina.”

“And dulce de leche,” she said. “And a very large glass of red wine.”

“Save a honeymoon couple, eat dinner, find Declan and kill him. Nice to have a plan.”

Hollis didn’t bother to mention that so far none of their plans had worked out.