Page 35 of King

Natalia

I ask my supervisor if I can take an hour break if I stay an extra hour.

“I have some personal business I have to attend to,” I say and make a cringe face, hoping she sees my discomfort.“It has to do with my in-laws…” I roll my eyes and she nods in understanding.

“I get it,” she says.“Go ahead.Take what time you need.You can make it up when you can.”

“Thanks, Christina,” I say and squeeze her arm.“I really appreciate it.I know I’ve been given a lot of leeway lately, considering my family stuff, so thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” she says and shakes her head.“I’m just glad I’m not you.Go.Do your family stuff.Come back when you’re done.Everything will still be here waiting.”

I smile back and exhale with relief.

I have a plan.

I'm going to the nursing home where Deluca is staying.I don't know what he'll have to say, but at least I can see him in person.If he's in a nursing home, there must be something wrong with him.Did someone take care of him so to speak without killing him?That's what I want to know.

I take the driver that Harrison has insisted I use and give him the address of the nursing home in the Bronx.

"Sure thing Mrs.O’Connor,” he says.

Mrs.O'Connor…that sounds so strange to me.I didn't actually take Harrison’s last name.I figure my own name is important enough to keep.We discussed it briefly before we signed the marriage certificate, and while Harrison wanted me to take his last name, I laughed and said neither of our last names are clean.We probably should make up a new last name instead.

He understood.

We drive through Manhattan towards the Bronx, and I wonder what I'll find when I get there.I researched Deluca and saw a photo of him on the FBI website after he received some recommendation.From what I saw, he had dark hair, dark eyes and a round face.The recommendation he received was from over a decade earlier, so for all I know, he could be gray.We finally arrive, and my driver parks the car in the parking lot for visitors, and I get out.

"I won't be long,” I say as I lean into the passenger window."Probably less than an hour."

"Sure thing, Mrs.O'Connor,” he says.He pulls out a newspaper and starts to read it, used to having to wait on his employer.

I go into the front entrance of the nursing home, wondering what I'm going to find.It's pretty nice from the outside, well maintained exterior and shrubbery.I approach the front desk and ask if Mr.Deluca is present.

"I'd like to talk to him about his past work with the FBI," I say.“I’m a journalism student, and I'm interested in law enforcement, specifically the FBI."

The nurse behind the front desk glances at a screen and nods.“He’s in room 213."

"Is he OK to have visitors?"I ask, surprised that she's letting me just go up to his room.“I mean, is he mentally okay?I wasn't sure when I decided to come and speak to him."

She smiles.“Well,” she says and raises her eyebrows.“I don't know if he's all there, so to speak, but there are no restrictions on his visitors, so just be aware he might be a little confused."

I take the elevator to the second floor and find room 213.It's a single room, and sitting in a chair by the window is a man who looks very much like the Deluca I saw in the news releases.His hair is greyer now, and he looks like he's in his fifties at most.Too young to be retired, so I expect there's something mentally wrong with him.Maybe he has early-onset dementia or some other mental issue.I take out my cell and turn on the record button, so I can record our conversation.

I knock on the door and enter the room.

"Mr.Deluca?"I say and take a step inside.“May I come in and speak with you?"

He looks back at me blankly and says nothing for a moment.It's then I worry that maybe he really is demented and will be of no use to me.But after a moment, he nods.

"Who are you?”he asks, his voice cautious."What do you want?"

I close the door behind me and go and sit on the other side of the small table.I open my bag and take out a picture of my stepfather and mother and place it on the table.

When he sees the photo, he recognizes who they are, and his face actually blanches.He glances up at me quickly, his mouth open.

“Who are you?Are you from the FBI?If you are, I was told everything was taken care of."

That feels like a knife to the gut…