Almost Dead

“Hello,” she said. “I am looking for a lady by the name of Jacqui Vale. She’s my sister; I lost my phone, and I can’t remember where she said she was staying. I’m in Italy now and want to meet up with her.”

Although this wasn’t the truth, Cassie had decided it was a plausible reason for her phone calls. She didn’t want to embark on a long, complicated story as she feared that the guesthouse owners might grow impatient, or even suspicious.

“She might have booked in under Jacqueline. It would have been within the past two months.”

“Jacqueline?” There was a short silence and Cassie felt her heart accelerate.

Then her hopes crash-landed as the woman said, “Nobody by that name has stayed here.”

Cassie discovered this was a long, frustrating, and time-consuming task. Some of the guesthouses refused to help at all due to privacy concerns. Others were busy so she had to make a time to call them again.

She worked her way down the list of options until she’d almost reached the end. Only three numbers were left, and after that she would have to admit defeat.

She dialed the third-last number, feeling frustrated, as if Jacqui’s elusive presence was taunting her.

“Posso aiutarti?” the man on the other side of the line asked.

Cassie had learned this phrase meant “Can I help?” but the man didn’t sound helpful. He sounded impatient and stressed, as if he’d had a bad day. Cassie guessed he would be one of those who would tell her that he couldn’t disclose any details for confidentiality reasons. He’d say it just to get her off the line, because he had guests waiting, or was heading out himself.

“I’m looking for a Jacqui Vale. She’s my sister. I planned to meet up with her while I was in Italy, but my phone was stolen yesterday and I can’t remember where she was staying.”

Cassie had upped the drama level of her story, hoping for more sympathy.

“I’m phoning around to try and trace her.”

She heard the man tapping a keyboard.

Then Cassie nearly fell off the chair as he said, “Yes, we did have a Jacqui Vale staying with us. She was here for about two weeks and then she moved out, into a shared apartment, I think, because she was working nearby.”

Cassie’s heart leaped. This man knew her—had seen her, spoken to her. This was a huge breakthrough in her search.

“I remember now, she had part-time work at the boutique around the corner, Mirabella’s. Would you like Mirabella’s number?”

“This is amazing, I can’t believe I’m going to be able to find her,” Cassie gushed. “Thank you so much. Please give me the number.”

He looked it up for her, and she wrote it down. She felt giddy with excitement. Her search had resulted in success. She’d found the place her sister had recently worked. There was every chance that she might still be there.

With trembling hands and feeling short of breath, she dialed the number he’d given her.

It was answered by an older Italian woman, and Cassie felt a pang of disappointment that Jacqui herself hadn’t picked up, because that was what she’d been imagining would happen.

“What can I do for you?” the woman asked in strongly accented English, as soon as she’d established that Cassie was not Italian.

“Am I speaking to Mirabella?”

“You are.”

“Mirabella, my name’s Cassie Vale. I’m trying to contact my sister, Jacqui. I lost touch with her a while ago, but I found out that she has been working for you. Is she still there, by any chance? If not, could you pass on her number to me?”

There was a pause.

Cassie imagined Mirabella beckoning Jacqui over to the phone and she was disappointed when the woman herself spoke again.

She sounded brief, regretful, and businesslike.

“I am sorry, but Jacqui Vale is dead.”

There was a click, as she disconnected the call.

CHAPTER NINE

Cassie dropped the phone. Rather, it fell from her hand and clattered onto the desk. She didn’t even notice. She was paralyzed by the brutal shock of the words.

The boutique owner had just told her Jacqui was dead.

She’d said the words with harsh, bald certainty. No room for doubt or misunderstanding, no details or explanation. Just the cold hard facts, followed by a swift disconnection.

Cassie felt sobs rising inside her, so deep and visceral that she was fearful of letting them out, because she knew her grief and guilt and self-blame could not be stopped.

Her sister was no longer alive.

What had happened? Confusion filled her as she remembered that she’d been alive just a few weeks ago. Both Tim, the friendly barman, and the hostel owner in Bellagio had confirmed it.

Had she been sick, suffering from a deadly disease? Or had her death been accidental, a swift, unavoidable tragedy; her body mangled in a road wreck or suffocated in a gas leak or caught up in a mugging or robbery?

Cassie clutched her forehead. Her temples were throbbing with stress. She’d been so close. She’d come within a hair’s breadth of finding her sister, only to discover that she was gone forever.

“Oh, Jacqui,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I tried; I really did.”

As the shock of the words sunk in, grief followed, and Cassie found herself wailing uncontrollably.

She buried her head in her hands, and for a while, all she could do was endure the pain as she cried. The loss seemed unbearable. The agony of it was as sharp as a knife wound. The woman’s words had opened up raw edges of grief inside her that she feared would never be able to heal.

It seemed like a long while later that Cassie raised her head again. She felt weak and drained, and for now, she had no more tears to cry.

She went to the bathroom, splashed water on her face, and rubbed her eyes. Looking at her swollen-eyed reflection, she realized she had moved past the stage of shocked acceptance. Now, her mind was filled with questions.

How recent was the death? Was there a funeral, had Jacqui been buried? Who had taken charge during this tragic event?

Another important question—why had Mirabella slammed the phone down on her after delivering that devastating news? Why hadn’t she stayed on the line and talked to Cassie, and explained what had happened? After all, Cassie had introduced herself as Jacqui’s sister. Mirabella had known she was speaking to family.

Now that Cassie had started thinking more clearly, she couldn’t come up with a valid reason for Mirabella’s behavior. It was irrational, confusing, and had been extremely cruel, too.

With a surge of fright, Cassie wondered if she’d misremembered the conversation.

What if the woman had actually explained what had happened to her sister, and in the stress of the moment, Cassie had suffered from a memory blank and had forgotten what had been said?

That made sweat spring out on her palms, because she knew it was possible, it had happened to her before, and it was usually triggered by extreme stress.