13
Aurielo
My heart strums against my chest.
Francesco ought to be heading home with Karina soon.
My cell phone buzzes against my desk, and I answer the caller, surprised to see Francesco’s name pop up.
“What’s up? Everything okay?” He’s the last person who I expect to call unless there’s a problem.
“Depends on what you consider to be a problem,” he says and clears his throat. “I went upstairs to pay Karina a visit, and she was having dinner with her sister.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose and hang my head.
“Her twin sister,” Francesco says, elaborating as to the reason for the call.
“I already know she has a twin. They’re identical,” I answer.
It’s best if I don’t explain how I know. The last thing I want is to be seen as weak by the Rinaldi family.
“Can you not tell them apart?” I ask with a humph, insinuating that he should know the difference between Karina and her sister.
There’s a moment of silence that lingers on the line, and I’m not sure whether he isn’t answering or he’s cut off with some type of interference. He is at the hospital. Its possible reception is poor.
“It’s not just the fact she’s a twin. There’s a child. A boy.”
My mouth goes dry.
I reach for my bottled water, twisting the lid, needing a sip like I’m in the desert and I haven’t had anything to drink in days.
“Her child or the sisters?” I ask.
“I’m not sure,” Francesco reports. “I thought you might want to do a reconnaissance before interrogating your wife.”
“I’ll get back to you,” I say and hang up the phone.
My laptop is open, the desktop filled with multiple windows. None of them matter.
Does she have a kid?
Maybe it’s not her kid, and it’s her sisters, in which case, her sister’s behavior yesterday makes even less sense.
I rub my temples, an impending headache coming on.
I’m no hacker, but I do a basic search engine investigation and type in Karina Cole. Unfortunately, her last name is far too common.
I narrow it down with the current city and filter through a few records and news articles. It doesn’t take me long to land on one listing Ashton Cole and his relationship to her.
His date of birth causes my stomach to churn.
He’s a little over five years old.
We slept together about six years ago.
It’s probably a coincidence.
If she was pregnant with my son, she’d have told me.