The File That Wouldn’t Close

Jessica kept moving, her breath steady, her pace measured. The streets of Rome stretched out before her, the wet pavement reflecting the glow of streetlights, the scent of old stone and cigarette smoke curling through the alleys.

She had Ricci’s file. And she wasn’t alone. Whoever had sent the man in the archives, they weren’t done.

Jessica exhaled slowly and pulled out her phone. One missed message from Olivia.

Olivia: Landed. Call me when you’re clear.

She smirked faintly. Olivia always knew when things went sideways. Jessica ducked into a narrow street, found a quiet corner, and dialed.

Olivia answered immediately. “Tell me you’re not bleeding.”

Jessica glanced down at her sleeve, where a smear of dust from the archives clung to the fabric.

“No blood,” she murmured. “Just a little late-night reading.”

A beat of silence.

Then: “How bad?”

Jessica leaned against the wall, scanning the empty street, “They knew I was there.”

Olivia swore under her breath. “I should’ve come sooner.”

Jessica smirked. “You were already booking a flight before I asked.”

A sigh. “You’re not wrong.”

Jessica ran a hand through her hair. “I’ve got the file. Ricci was looking into Pasolini, officially and off the record. Whatever he found, it got him silenced. Same with Bellanti.”

Olivia was quiet for a moment. “Where are you?”

Jessica glanced around. “Trastevere.”

“I’m ten minutes away. I booked a room near Piazza Trilussa. Meet me there.”

Jessica nodded. “On my way.”

She ended the call and started moving.

* * *

Jessica found the hotel easily. It was a quiet building tucked into the shadows, the kind of place where people came and went unnoticed. She took the stairs instead of the elevator, reaching the third floor. Olivia’s room was at the end of the hall.

Jessica knocked twice. A pause. Then the door cracked open. Olivia pulled her inside before she had a chance to speak.

“Nice to see you too,” Jessica muttered.

Olivia locked the door, checked the peephole, then turned to face her.

Jessica smirked. “You’re getting paranoid.”

Olivia folded her arms. “You keep giving me reasons to be.”

Jessica sat on the edge of the bed, pulling the file from her jacket.

She tossed it onto the table between them. “Found him.”

Olivia’s eyes flicked to the name. Giovanni Ricci. She exhaled sharply, “You weren’t kidding,” she murmured, flipping through the pages.

Jessica leaned back. “It’s all in there. The Vatican assigned him to look into restricted records. Pasolini’s name showed up in his investigation.”

Olivia scanned quickly, absorbing every detail.

Then, she froze.

Jessica caught the shift. “What?”

Olivia frowned. “There’s something missing.”

Jessica raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Olivia turned the page toward her. “Look at the case file structure.”

Jessica studied it. It was like a dossier—entries, memos, reports. But Olivia was right. Something was off.

Jessica frowned. “There’s no conclusion.”

Olivia nodded. “Exactly. Investigations always have a final entry. Either ‘case closed’ or ‘transferred to another department.’”

Jessica exhaled. Ricci never got to finish, or someone didn’t let him.

Olivia ran a hand through her hair. “So Ricci was looking at Pasolini, Bellanti picked up the thread, and now they’re both dead.”

Jessica nodded.

Olivia frowned. “What were they both chasing?”

Jessica’s jaw tightened. “An erased witness.”

Olivia froze. Jessica pulled a crumpled note she had taken from Bellanti’s envelope from her jacket pocket. She slid it toward Olivia. The name Orlando Sacchetti was written in hurried, slanted script.

Jessica exhaled. “He was there the night Pasolini was murdered.”

Olivia blinked. “And no one ever mentioned him?”

Jessica smirked. “That’s the point.”

Olivia leaned back, tapping her fingers against the table. After a moment, she exhaled. “I need to run this.”

Jessica raised an eyebrow. “You think you can pull records the Vatican erased?”

Olivia smiled faintly. “Watch me.”

Jessica smirked. For a moment, there was silence. Olivia at the screen, Jessica at the window. Outside, the streetlights flickered against the wet glass. The room felt too quiet, like the pause between questions.

Then came the knock.

Olivia’s expression hardened. “You expecting someone?”

Jessica pulled her gun from the holster beneath her jacket and shook her head. No. Whoever was outside, they weren’t here for room service.