Chapter Eighteen

Madelyn

 

It was an odd dream, one that didn’t make a lot of sense even in the moment. Madelyn was on the edge of a small village, and she could hear voices in the distance. They slowly grew louder, even though she was doing her best to move away from them. She slowly came to as she realized the voices were not part of the dream at all. She rolled over just as she saw a dark figure enter through her window.

 

Madelyn screamed, but she barely got any of it out before a rag was smashed down over her face. She fought and kicked, but she soon realized her attacker wasn’t alone. Two hands grabbed her feet while the first man picked her up under her armpits. There was something on the rag, and it was making her woozy, but still, she knew this wasn’t supposed to happen. She writhed and twisted in their grip, determined not to let them take her, but she wasn’t strong enough.

 

“Madelyn!” Heavy pounding sounded on the other side of the door.

 

For a moment, Madelyn didn’t understand who it was. Then she suddenly remembered that she wasn’t alone. Nero was there, and he was there for just this reason, but she had locked the damn door! She could hear him pounding against it, fighting to get into the room.

 

But it was too late. A heavy hand crushed the rag against her face once again, and the dark room began spinning around her. In her panic and confusion, she hadn’t initially noticed the scent of the rag, but now whatever drug they had soaked it in was making her weak and dizzy. She fought to get it off her face. “Nero!”

 

“I’m coming!” The door thudded again, accompanied by splintering sounds.

 

“You take her. I got this one,” said the man near her head.

 

The rag fell off her face as she was thrown over the shoulder of the second man, who carried her out the window with ease. She had the unpleasantly giddy feeling of being carried down several levels of the fire escape. Somewhere above her, she could hear the controlled explosion of a gun.

 

“Nero …” she whispered as she passed out.

 

* * *

 

Her brain was fuzzy when she awoke. Madelyn rolled her head on her shoulders, not willing to open her eyes just yet. She wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t get comfortable.

 

“Come on, Gino. How much did you give her?”

 

“Just the usual, boss.”

 

“I don’t have time for this. Throw some water on her or something.”

 

“Wait, look. Here she comes.”

 

The voices were off in the distance and muffled, but they slowly grew louder the more they talked. When Madelyn finally did open her eyes, she realized the sources of those voices were less than ten feet away. She didn’t recognize any of the three men who stood there staring at her, but her mind was still too numb to be scared by that fact.

 

The one in the middle, a short, fat man with deep black eyes, took a step forward.

 

“You Madelyn Rowe?”

 

The name, at least, was familiar enough, and she nodded. Madelyn worked her tongue and lips, which were so dry she wasn’t sure they would ever work again. She shifted her body, only then realizing that she was bound by her hands and feet to a hard chair. A sleepy panic slowly rose within her as she slowly became aware of just what was happening. Memories of her abduction came flooding back, and fear pulsed in her veins once again. Who were these men? What had they done to Nero? Was he lying on her bedroom floor, bleeding out from a gunshot wound? But she couldn’t articulate the questions, and she had a feeling from the way this man was looking at her that he wasn’t going to answer them anyway.

 

“Are you Lorenzo Marino’s lawyer?” the fat man asked.

 

Madelyn squinted at him, not quite understanding, and then finally nodded.

 

“Good.” His smile was slow, almost malicious. “Then we’re off to a good start. Now I just need to know what Marino is doing to set me up for this murder.”

 

“I don’t know anything about that,” she gasped. It was an automatic reaction, one she was grateful for. Even in her pitiful state, she could keep a secret. “Could I have something to drink, please?”

 

The corners of the man’s mouth turned down, but he flicked his fingers at one of his men to attend to her. A minute later, he was holding up a glass with a straw. The water was warm and tasted stale, but it was far better than not having it.

 

“Thank you.”

 

The man gestured for his capo to get back. “Now then. Do you know who I am?”

 

Madelyn’s tired eyes studied him for a long moment. He had a wide face to match his body, and his eyebrows had a pointed arch to them. It made her think of the Count from Sesame Street, and the randomness of that just made her more confused. “No.”

 

“I’m Benny Scarvo. Ring a bell?”

 

She could have had a belfry in her head for all the bells that were going off. “I’ve heard your name.”

 

Scarvo pulled in a deep breath. “Look, I’m doing my best not to lose my temper here. I know you’re involved in this murder case, and I know Marino is trying to make it look like I killed this George Lewis guy. I’ve killed plenty of people in my lifetime, but not him, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to go down for something I didn’t do. Your job is to tell me everything you know so that I can stop it.”

 

Madelyn simply stared at him, unsure of what to do or say. She was starting to come around, to wake up a little more and really figure out what was going on, but there was no right response to his demands. If she caved and told him everything about Enzo, then he would surely be killed. If she lied, they would probably know it and kill her, and then probably still kill Enzo.

 

“Okay. Fine. You want it that way, then we’ll talk in the morning.” Scarvo turned on his heel and left, disappearing through a door at the back of the room.

 

The other two men found chairs and made themselves comfortable, but they didn’t say a word to her or give any indication that they would leave the room. She was a prisoner here, and she would be serving whatever sentence Scarvo thought was appropriate until she confessed everything.

 

Madelyn looked around, hoping for some way out. But this wasn’t one of those escape games on her phone, where she just had to pry loose the correct floor panel or look behind the paining on the wall. In fact, as she looked at her surroundings for the first time, she knew just how hopeless a task like that would be. She was in a basement with solid concrete for the floors and walls. The ceiling overhead was the underside of the floor above, but it looked very solid. There was no chance for her now.