Darkness for the Bastards of Pizzofalcone by Maurizio de Giovanni, Antony Shugaar Page B

I’d like to see the video, if you don’t mind.”
    Palma helped him around the desk and over to Ottavia’s monitor.
    Cerchia watched the footage very attentively. When he saw his son enter the frame, cross the room and, just before leaving, look up at the video camera, his reaction was heartbreaking. His expression crumbled as all the muscles in his face contracted; tears poured forth; with his hands, he clutched at his throat, raked through his hair, and covered his mouth. He started sobbing, his shoulders shaking uncontrollably.
    Romano and Aragona stared at the floor, wishing they could be any place else but there. Ottavia, deeply moved, gripped his arm to comfort him. Pisanelli coughed.
    Palma said: “Dottor Cerchia, please. This won’t do anything to help your son, that is, if he does need our help. You saw it yourself: He went with that person perfectly happily. Perhaps he knew he had nothing to fear.”
    Alberto Cerchia covered his face with his hands and waited a few seconds: “You’re right, Commissario. We need to find out where Dodo is and get him back. And as God is my witness, I swear that when we find him, I’m going to keep him close and make sure nothing bad ever happens to him again.” His voice, made hoarse by grief, was a barely audible croak; nonetheless, it throbbed with enormous determination. “That’s a woman, yes. It seems obvious from the way she moves and by her build. What other evidence do we have?”
    Aragona gestured vaguely: “One of his classmates, the boy who was with him when he left, said that she was blond. But he was fairly far away, and after all, he’s just a kid.”
    â€œA blonde. Well, that’s something, isn’t it? Did she see the video, the boy’s mother?”
    â€œYes, of course,” Palma replied. “But she didn’t recognize anyone she knew.”
    Cerchia made a face: “That idiot wouldn’t recognize herself in a mirror. What about the old bastard, what did he say?”
    â€œIf you’re referring to the boy’s grandfather, the signora said that she’d tell him this morning.”
    â€œSure, of course,” Cerchia muttered bitterly to himself, “she handles him with kid gloves. But she doesn’t think twice about calling me up in the middle of the night and almost getting me killed on a rainy highway. Typical.” Then he turned to speak to Palma again: “I have a place here, near where they live. I took it so Dodo could stay with me when I see him every other week. I’ll give you the address and my phone number, so you can get in touch with me whenever you need to. I’m going to go see her now; we need to try to figure out just what happened. I’m going to find him, my son. I’ll find him.”
    Lojacono spoke up: “Cerchia, if I could offer a little advice, not as a cop but as a father: Right now you’re all in the same boat—your ex-wife, your ex-father-in-law, and everyone else who cares about the child. If you don’t want to make our job even harder, don’t put Signora Borrelli on the defensive; do your best to cooperate with her, and with us. If the boy has been kidnapped, and like the commissario told you, we still can’t be sure of that, the first few times the kidnappers make contact will be crucial to the investigation. So please: help us help you.”
    Cerchia listened in silence. Then he nodded: “Yes, right now the only thing that matters is that Dodo come home safe and sound. We can discuss the rest afterward.”
    Palma reiterated the point: “Can you promise me, Dottor Cerchia, that you’ll keep calm and let us know about anything new that comes up? We’ve asked your ex-wife to do the same. Lieutenant Lojacono put it very well: This is no time for grudges, we’re all in the same boat.”
    Cerchia stood up from his chair: “Thank you, Commissario, but no, we’re