Chapter 13

The last hour of their high-speed run from Wildwood to Vero Beach was spent speaking softly about Maria. Steve and Natalia both realized that the worst had probably happened when Natalia said that “the Calvetta family has gone to war with the Gronchi family and drew us in with it.” At one point, Steve was so focused on Maria’s plight that he nearly slammed into the back of a minivan full of tourists when his anger took over and his body locked up. He saw the minivan in the lane ahead of him, but he was so focused on Maria and Darlene that he couldn’t slow down. He couldn’t change lanes. He couldn’t do anything until Maria shouted, “Brake!”

It wasn’t Maria; it was Natalia that shouted. Her voice sounded just like his wife. “I’m sorry I just ... I want to say a prayer,” said a shaken Steve.

Natalia was shocked. Her uber Catholic mom never mentioned this side of her new man ... he wants to stop and say a prayer before wading into a gunfight? He’s just like dad! “Tell you what, I’ll pray, you drive, capiche?”

“Capiche,” a shaking Steve said, and he took her warm hand in his, and for the first time since her father died on a frigid Manhattan sidewalk, Natalia prayed. They held hands and prayed together that they didn’t have to return to a life that both had given up.

They roared into Vero Beach and the flashing lights of police cars and ambulances could be seen from blocks away. “Please no,” muttered Steve, “please God, not again...” over and over, his stomach twisted in knots, and he knew this was not going to have a happy outcome. The image of Alfeo Gronchi as he grinned while taking pictures of their wedding was burned into Steve’s memory, and Steve chose to focus on that as his world started to crumble. Alfeo did not know what kind of hell he was in for.

Now turning onto Sandhurst Road where Maria and Steve lived, they saw a sea of flashing lights at the end of the block surrounding what just a few hours ago had been Steve’s new home and was going to be Natalia’s new home starting that night. Steve and Natalia squeezed each other’s hands, praying that their fear would be unfounded, but nothing they saw told them otherwise. Steve groaned in agony as an ambulance moved out to head off to wherever it was heading. Once it was clear of all the other vehicles, its flashing lights shut off, and whoever was inside was gone. There was no need to rush. Det. Bruce McLaren heard the rumble of Anthracite, the name that was on the side of Steve’s truck, as it approached the crime scene and he walked toward the truck, his face set in a practiced frown.

Steve didn’t notice his old friend walking toward him, he pulled into the first spot on the street he could park at, his neighbors Edgar and Clarice Weberman were standing at the end of their driveway under their palm trees, their faces were masks of shock. “What the hell happened?” asked Edgar. “We heard guns firing; it went on forever!”

“And you, Natalia,” said Clarice, “If there’s anything we can do, you come to us. Ok?”

“I will Missus Weberman,” she said as they hugged. “I don’t think I will go back to that dumbass school,” she muttered.

“Don’t make any decisions now,” advised Mrs. Weberman. As Mrs. Weberman hugged Natalia, another image of Maria appeared out of the darkness, another mirror image of the woman that Steve loved. This vision was pregnant and leading a tiny girl. “Oh no,” said Natalia sadly, “Jeannie brought Emma.”

“Who?”

“Your granddaughter,” Natalia said softly and squeezed his hand as a silent plea to act nice to the child. Over that past hour, they drew closer as the dreaded scene ahead of them became inevitable. By the time Steve parked the truck, Natalia’s wall of petulant self-protection was falling, and they were now conversing politely. “Steve, this is my sister Giannina Bellini-Tamaro. Jeannie, this is Stephaton Bellini-Anderson.”

As they shook hands. “What is with the last name?” Jeannie demanded. She sounded angrier than Natalia had been when she met Steve.

“When I married your mother ... we promised each other we would honor both families ... please don’t be mad at me but...” he was shocked when Giannina threw her arms around him and wept into his shoulder. As she cried, Steve saw Bruce approaching them with his face set in the same look he had in Afghanistan when he had to report that their unit lost somebody, and any hope Steve had, no matter how distant, was now gone.

“Thank you for making my mother happy,” said Jeannie when she was able to formulate words. “Whenever she called me all she spoke about was how happy she was having a man who loved her.”

“He’s so much like dad,” said Natalia as she joined the hug.

Detective Bruce McLaren stood off to the side and waited for the weeping family to steel themselves for his report. Finally, they turned to him and Steve introduced Maria’s daughters to the detective and finally asked what was burning in his heart all night, “What happened Bruce? How is Maria?”

“Steve, I can’t ... not with family here.”

“Bruce, that’s my wife in there and that makes me family too. Just give it to us, and I’ll deal with the fallout.”

McLaren sighed in defeat; fallout was what Steve was best at. Mostly creating it. “Ten bodies were taken out of the Anderson home...”

“Anderson home?” asked Jeannie and Natalia at the same time.

Bruce flipped the notes on his clipboard and said, “County tax office has this house listed under Steve and Annamaria Anderson.” He looked around for any complaints, then hearing none, he continued. “The bodies of eight men were found in the house, initial investigation shows that they probably died of gunshot wounds. They are all still unidentified. Two women positively identified as Annamaria Giacinta Bellini-Anderson and Darlene Colella ... Mrs. Colella also died of gunshot wounds. There’s traces of blood of several other people in and about the house.”

“And Maria?” Steve asked. His mouth and throat were so dry the words could hardly form.

“She received two bullet wounds neither of which was life threatening. Mrs. Anderson died of yet to be determined causes, possibly a heart attack, the coroner will have to do a full autopsy.”

A woman that Steve recognized from past meetings as Bruce’s partner came up and said, “They’re asking for you.”

“Stay here, I’ll keep you informed,” said Bruce and he returned to the house.

The sun was coming up when Steve decided that he needed to go somewhere and just rest. His head was pounding, and his heart was shattered, a love like he never thought existed was his, and then it was ripped away ... he wanted nothing more than to go be with Maria any way it takes and after a full night of being ignored by the local police and the FBI, he realized they would not get any more information. Steve backed his truck into the open lot next to Maria’s property where the camper was folded up, ready for the camping adventure Maria and Steve had been planning on taking right after their little cruise. He started cranking up the jack on the front of the camper so he could connect it to anthracite.