Licensed to Kill

Chapter 21

Medieval architecture lined the streets of old town Nuremberg, the city rich with history and culture. Dominating the view ahead was Kaiserburg Castle with its landmark tower standing proudly for all to see. In a way, it reminded me somewhat of Big Ben, looming over the town, a beacon of prominence. It was beautiful. Every road we traveled down held a charm unique to Germany.

I watched the homes and businesses go by as we drove across the city from one side to the other. Meanwhile, Dallas awkwardly tried to read and follow the GPS directions on the screen I was holding for him. I wasn't paying too much attention to being his helper. I was much more interested in eyeing every magnificent structure we passed along the way, imagining what it must feel like to have the luxury of being a normal tourist in a history-blanketed city like Nuremberg, getting to delve into the culture and discover new art and learn a new language. I held so much envy, it was almost sickening.

Being in Germany felt reminiscent of living in Bulgaria back before my life turned into a James Bond story. The two countries were similar in many aspects. Then again, being in any European country felt like traveling back in time compared to being in the States. Thousands of years of construction and evolving landscapes made Europe as a whole a gem to explore.

I remembered my hometown of Sofia. Landmarks dotted the community, proudly displaying our biography as a prominent city in eastern Europe. Alexander Nevsky Cathedral and the royal Vrana Palace were two of my favorite locations, what with their vibrant colors and impressive design. You couldn't venture through Bulgaria without visiting those places.

I remembered the house I grew up in. It was a small brown structure in a cul-de-sac with two bedrooms and a serious lack of square footage. My mother had done her best to make our house feel like a home, despite our family never having much to our name. I could still picture her smiling face, clear as day, as she stood at the end of the front lawn every morning, watching my father leave for work. I was so young then – too young to understand any of the complexities of the world, much less the critical things my parents were involved in. Things that would eventually turn deadly and ruin my once blissful idea of what life was supposed to be.

I could feel a tear slipping down my cheek and quickly turned my head to prevent Dallas from noticing. I hated remembering my past, because I could never remember the good times without the bad times immediately following.

"I love you," Dallas spoke softly, keeping his focus on the road, though I knew he'd been watching me out of the corner of his eye.

"I love you, too," I mumbled back and tried to shove the nagging memories away.

Now was not the time to be getting all emotional over a past I couldn't change.

"I know what you're thinking about."

His voice was so gentle, so caring. God, after all this time, he could still read me like a book. That was both a comforting and irritating fact.

I shook my head and huffed out an almost painful breath. "I don't want to talk about it, Dallas."

He nodded, still not taking his eyes off the road. "I know that, too. But you know, if you change your mind-"

"I know, Dallas." My voice sounded slightly harsher than intended, so I followed it up with a 'thank you.'

Just then, my phone started buzzing, saving us from the uncomfortable silence that was making itself all too at home.

"Talk to me, Alana."

"So I found out a couple things," she said. "Bellisario did live at Cranberry Village. Apartment sixty-two. Looks like he'd been living there for a year. According to police records, his body was discovered in the living room by the landlord when he went to collect the rent. The murder remains unsolved and the apartment has not yet been rented out again due to it still being considered an active crime scene. Looks like the feds have taken over the case from the Nuremberg police since Bellisario was an informant. I'm sending you copies of the files now."