Vince extracted himself from under the hood of a nearby car to send Grace an assessing stare. He approached. There was no way she could bend down and pick up the cigarette butt without him noticing—and asking questions. He didn’t seem to recognize her, and Grace got the sense this man hid his smiles like he did his past. Same as that day in Big Frank’s, Rapino gave off an uneasy vibe, the way an unlit firecracker never feels perfectly safe to handle. Grace had to wonder how he had any customers at all.
As he neared, Grace got a good look at his thick black eyebrows and close-cropped dark hair. She didn’t see any signs of Penny in him, but Grace looked like her mother, nothing like her father, so she made little of it. Still, there was nothing sweet and gentle about him. Grace supposed some men came out of the womb with a chip on their shoulder and fists to fight for survival. Vince was definitely that kind of man.
“Help you?” he said, still no smile. He came to a stop, his work boot directly over the discarded cigarette they’d hoped to retrieve. His work shirt was unbuttoned, revealing the stained white tank top he wore underneath.
Grace jacked up her resolve like she was the car on that lift. “Hello, Vince,” she said.
Vince put his hands on his hips, and cocked his head to appraise her. Eventually something of a smile came to his face, but it wasn’t warm or welcoming, not in the slightest.
“Well, look at that, wontcha?” he said, eyeing Grace up and down. He had an accent born of the street, hard-edged as his demeanor. “Grace Francone. Whatcha you doing here, Gracie? Car broke down?”
The smokers returned from outside to flank Vince like a pair of sentries.
At that moment plan A （sneak a sample of his DNA） and B （ask for it directly） seemed to Grace like incredibly stupid ideas, but then she thought of Penny. Desperation trumped her better judgment, and she pressed ahead. “I’m sorry to intrude like this, but there’s been a development in the case, Vince,” Grace said, biting back her fear.
As Vince stepped forward, a flash of his silver necklace caught in the overhead light. “I’ve kind of lost track of time,” he said. “Isn’t the trial two weeks away? Or is it three? I’ve got that date circled on my calendar in the office.” He took another step toward Grace. His eyes were the deep shade of brown that almost looked black. “You must be getting nervous, real nervous, to come here.”
“The trial is coming up soon, yes,” said Grace. “And yes, I’m very nervous. May we speak in private?”
She was thinking maybe Annie could snatch the cigarette butt while they conferred in his office.
“What you say to me, you can say to them.” Rapino gestured to the men behind him.
“Very well,” said Grace after taking a readying breath. Plan B it is. “The reason we’re here is we recently met someone who thinks you might be Penny’s father.” She didn’t bother burying the lead, because small talk with Vince wasn’t going to happen.
Vince screwed up his face like she hadn’t spoken English. Grace carried on. “You and Rachel were together a long time ago. Boyfriend and girlfriend back in high school, on again, off again after … The timing, it works.”
Vince spit out a chilling laugh. “Yeah? Ya think? That’s a hard no.” He kept his gaze locked on Grace; his two closest companions stayed still as statues. Other workers began to gather, thinking maybe this might escalate into a must-see event.
“So you’re saying you’re not Penny’s father?”
“Damn straight I’m not that girl’s daddy. I got my kids.”
“Are you willing to prove it?” Annie asked boldly, holding up the bag with the cotton swabs in it.
A cracked smile broke over Vince’s leathery face. He laughed again, and some of the tension left the room like a tire leaking air. “You going all CSI on me, Denim?” He gestured at Annie’s shirt to explain the nickname.
“If you want to prove you’re not Penny’s father, you can give us the sample and avoid any, ah, investigation into the matter.”
The smile that had been on Vince’s face faded fast. “Whatcha talking about, investigation?” he said through clenched teeth.
“I haven’t told anybody yet about you and Rachel being an item back in the day.” Grace found the lie came easily. “The police didn’t do much looking into you because they already had their suspect for Rachel’s murder: my daughter. Now, well, this new information might be of serious interest to them. Suddenly you’re more connected to the victim than anyone knew. That’ll raise some eyebrows at a minimum, Vince. All the police need is a motive, no matter how thin, to start looking into you more aggressively. Then, well, who knows what they’ll find.”