The office dimmed as evening settled over the city. Outside the windows, lights flickered on across the skyline.
Matteo couldn't stop moving.
He paced from the window to the desk and back again, his phone clutched tight, checking for messages that didn't come.
Don Luciano sat at his desk, phone pressed to his ear. "I don't care what jurisdiction it falls under. I want every camera feed from that street for the last three hours... Yes, I'll wait."
He covered the receiver. "Sit down. You're making me dizzy."
"I can't."
"Try."
Matteo stopped, his fingers white-knuckled around his phone. "Why hasn't he called again? If he wants something—"
"Because he wants you like this first." Don Luciano's voice was matter-of-fact. "Frantic. Desperate. It makes the actual demands hit harder."
"It's working."
A knock at the door. Bianca entered with Matteo's laptop and a folder.
She looked smaller somehow, her usual polish dimmed by concern.
