Stronger than Sin (Sin Hunters)

by Caridad Piñeiro

  She picked up the phone and dialed the number, and a woman answered.

  “Mrs. Bradford?” she asked, and the woman confirmed it, a dull, almost tired cadence to her voice.

  “I’m calling about your son.”

  “You’ve found Jesse. Sweet Lord, you’ve found Jesse,” she said excitedly and with such hope that it almost hurt Liliana to dash that expectation.

  “I’m sorry, but that’s not why I’m calling,” she said, wishing she could tell his mother the truth.

  The earlier excitement fled, replaced by disappointment. “Oh, I’m sorry. It’s just that… I keep on praying Jesse will come home.”

  He almost did, she thought, recalling the punishment he had received because of his desire to see his family. Trying to comfort the other woman, she said, “I’m sure Jesse would if he could. When he’s found…”

  Liliana stopped and sucked in a deep breath, hating the lies she was spewing, even if they were necessary. When she had regained control, she continued. “I’m with a team dealing with another of the Wardwell patients—Caterina Shaw. We’re gathering medical histories of all the patients participating in the experiments so that we’ll be ready to treat them when they’re found. I was hoping you could spare some time to meet with me about Jesse’s condition.”

  “Anything I can do to help, I will. When would you like to chat?”

  It would take her only about fifteen minutes to get to the Bradford family home. It wasn’t far from the lab or from Jesse’s home in Spring Lake, making her wonder if that’s why he had bought the large colonial along the oceanfront. If that home had been intended not just for him, but for the family he seemed to care so much about—something else she hadn’t expected from what she knew of him from the tabloids.

  “Will ten be too soon?” she asked.

  “No, not at all,” the woman replied and rattled off her address. The same one in the hospital file.

  “See you then,” Liliana confirmed and hung up.

  She turned her attention back to the remaining Wardwell papers on Jesse and continued adding notes to those she had previously gotten from the other volumes. Nothing in them, however, gave her a clue as to how Jesse had gotten in their program or whether Edwards or Morales had discovered the reason for Jesse’s unexplained bone loss.

  Odd, but then again, Morales and Edwards, the ones responsible for the illegal experimentation, had clearly not been interested in helping their patients.

  At least, not at the end.

  But Liliana was committed to helping Caterina and Jesse or any of the other patients that the FBI might soon find.

  Tucking her spiral-bound journal into her purse, she grabbed her keys and left the office for her meeting with the Bradfords.

  The Bradford family home was a small ranch house on a postage-stamp-sized yard west of the railroad tracks. It looked like it had been recently renovated and landscaped, as did many of the nearby homes on the narrow street. Many of the houses and cars along the road boasted Mauraders flags and emblems. A tribute to their hometown hero, Liliana guessed.

  Overall, the working-class homes on the block were in much better condition than those on the surrounding streets.

  She parked her car in front of the home and walked up the curving cement walkway. She gave the doorbell a quick push and heard it resonate within. Barely a few seconds passed before the door opened.

  A tall, lean woman stood there, her sandy blond hair streaked with white. Her cornflower blue eyes—eyes so much like Jesse’s—intently traveled over Liliana’s face as the woman waited behind the protection of a storm door.

  “Mrs. Bradford?” she asked and, at the woman’s nod, identified herself. “I’m Dr. Carrera. I spoke with you earlier.”

  “Mary Bradford. Please come in.” She opened the door and held out her hand to invite Liliana in. As Liliana entered, she noticed the careful arrangement of photos along the top of an old upright piano. There wasn’t a single picture of Jesse, although the young woman in the photos bore a strong resemblance to him.

  A cough alerted her to the presence of someone else in the room.

  A man sat on the sofa in the space. He rose and gave a polite dip of his head as he said, “My wife tells me you want to talk about Jesse.”

  She held out her hand and said, “I assume you’re Jesse’s dad. I’m Dr. Carrera. Liliana, if you’d prefer.”

  The man didn’t shake her hand. Instead he motioned her to a nearby chair and sat back down as his wife joined them. She hovered nearby, nervously wringing her hands until her husband said, “Mary, please sit down.”

  The “please” in the sentence did nothing to eliminate the command in the words, making Liliana wonder about Jesse’s father.

  He sat across from her, body militarily straight. The strong line of his jaw and nose much like Jesse’s, although Jesse seemed to favor his mother more.

  Jesse’s father had on worn, but clean and precisely pressed, dark slacks with a starched white shirt that was open at the neck. The pants were shiny from the iron, and the tip of one collar was slightly threadbare.

  His hands rested on his knees. Large hands bearing the nicks and scars of a man who used them to earn a living. What, then, was he doing at home during the day?

  “I’m sorry to take you away from work—”

  “I’m retired now. Spend my days puttering around the house,” he said and gripped his knees with his hands as if uncomfortable with that statement. Maybe because he seemed too young to be retired. Late fifties at best, Liliana thought and began the discussion once more.

  “As I mentioned to Mary, I’m dealing with another Wardwell patient and would like to talk to you about Jesse’s medical condition.”

  “No condition, Dr. Carrera. It was God’s punishment for my son’s sinful ways.”

  “Sinful ways?” she asked, curious about what he meant.

  “Drinking. Whoring. Forgetting the values we instilled in him at home,” Mr. Bradford replied sharply and drummed the fingers of one hand against his knee.

  His wife reached out and stopped the angry motion, her touch gentling. “Jesse’s not a bad boy, John. He just lost his way.”

  Liliana recalled the brawls, different daily girlfriends, and assorted gossip about Jesse in the supermarket magazines. As she glanced back at his parents, she noted the ornate crucifix on a far wall of the room beside a needle-pointed Lord’s Prayer with an Irish flag stitched beneath. If they were as zealous as they seemed, she could understand their reluctance to condone Jesse’s actions.

  “I’m not here to judge Jesse—”

  “God has already judged my son,” his father intoned, his voice rising as if he was getting ready to launch into a sermon.

  Liliana fought back unexpected emotions as a mix of pity and anger awoke within her. Mustering patience, a trait she possessed in very short supply, she said, “Did anyone in your family ever have any signs of a bone- or joint-related disease? Arthritis? Osteoporosis? Anything like that?”

  “Nothing. It’s why Jesse’s disease was so odd,” Mary quickly replied.

  As John drew in a long breath, apparently prepping for a tirade once again, Mary patted his hand and said, “Why don’t you go out back, John. Liliana and I don’t want to waste your time.”

  With a grunt and a resigned sigh, Jesse’s dad popped up off the sofa and stalked out of the room.

  After he was gone, Mary twined her fingers together and said, “No one in the family has any history of problems. The Bradfords are sturdy stock. So is my family.”

  “What about Jesse’s sister?” Liliana asked, pulling her journal from her purse to jot down some notes.

  “Jackie is healthy as an ox. Athletic like her brother.” Mary rose from the sofa, walked over to the upright, and grabbed a frame from its surface. She returned and handed it to Liliana.

  “She’s going to school thanks to Jesse. He’s paid for it, and he set up a scholarship there so others could go to college…” Her voice trailed
off for a moment and then she gestured to the photo and said, “That’s Jackie playing soccer.”

  Jesse’s sister radiated strength and health in the action shot of her kicking a ball, but then again, Jesse had exhibited no symptoms until many years after graduating college.

  Liliana handed the photo back to Mary and resumed her questioning. “Has Jackie had any tests to confirm whether she’s suffering any kind of bone loss? Did either she or Jesse have any unusual illnesses?”

  “No tests other than routine physicals. And both my children were quite healthy, although I had a couple of miscarriages between them. I was blessed to be able to carry Jackie to term, the doctors said.” Mary stroked her hand lovingly across the surface of the photo, almost as if it was her daughter standing before her.

  Making a note of that in her journal, Liliana asked, “Any reasons for the miscarriages?”

  “It was just God’s way. But it wasn’t easy for me or for Jesse. Especially with the baby before Jackie. I had to lay up in bed for nearly two months, and I still lost the baby,” Mary said, and her hands fidgeted against the edge of the frame.

  Liliana hated to see her discomfiture, so she rose and sat on the edge of the coffee table in front of the sofa. Placed a consoling hand on the other woman’s to quiet the anxious motion. “Why was it so hard for Jesse?”

  Mary hunched her shoulders and looked away, but her eyes were wet with tears. “Jesse was six and an active boy. But he seemed to sense there was something wrong from the very beginning. He became more withdrawn as soon as he found out I was pregnant. From the moment I had to take bed rest, he was at my side, keeping me company.”

  She patted Mary’s hand. “He was a good boy for you, then.”

  “Always,” his mother replied with vehemence and met Liliana’s gaze. “He never gave us any trouble until…”

  Until he started playing pro ball and everything changed, Liliana thought. Sin had been stronger than the values with which he had been raised.

  Liliana didn’t want to stir up any more painful memories. Rising from the coffee table, she said, “If you can think of anything else—anything—please call me.” She took a card from a pocket in her journal and handed it to her.

  “I will, only… Do you think you could do me a favor?” Mary asked, her voice suddenly soft and timid in contrast to her earlier outburst.

  “Sure,” Liliana said.

  With a nod, she left the room and then came back holding a large black garbage bag that clanked loudly as she carried it along.

  “When you find Jesse, could you make sure he gets this?” She handed it to Liliana.

  It was heavier than Liliana had thought and filled with hard, oddly shaped objects. As she opened the top to peer within, she realized it was packed with trophies and awards.

  Jesse’s accomplishments being tossed out like yesterday’s rubbish.

  “I’ll make sure your son gets his things if we find him,” she said, her voice tight with the emotions she suppressed. She carefully carried the bag, not wanting to damage the contents.

  Anger rose up as she left the Bradford home. While there was a lot about Jesse’s past of which she did not approve, nothing she knew about Jesse so far warranted the kind of harsh judgment his father dispensed. If anything, there was more to Jesse than she had expected, but still so much she did not know about him.

  Her one hope for later was that she would be able to deal with the consequences of presenting Jesse with his mother’s package.

  CHAPTER 6

  The overload of sensations buffeting Jesse’s mind had gradually subsided through the course of the night and morning. A long night where he had battled back the rage building at his center, stronger now because of the effects of the drugs. In the year of his captivity, he had discovered that finding something on which to focus helped contain that emotion. Whether it was physical exertion like his workouts or a person, place, or thing, concentrating on it restored balance.

  Liliana had been the object of his attention through the night and morning. Her gentle touch against his body and the soothing tones of her voice. The feel of her against him, so feminine and enticing. He replayed scenes of her in his mind, over and over, using them to hold back the overwhelming sensations created by the drugs.

  Desire. Sadness. Hope. Need, since the petite doctor seemed to have made an indelible impression on his psyche.

  Jesse heard Liliana’s voice again, stronger this time. Not in his brain, he realized.

  She had returned, and within him came a surge of excitement.

  He half opened his eyes and waited for her, listening to the lilt of her voice and noticing for the first time a slight singsong quality that came from another language. With her looks and name, he guessed she was either Latina or Italian.

  The sound of her voice became stronger, more forceful as she came up the stairs. The clink and clank of something metallic seemed to keep pace with her steps. Then he heard Whittaker’s voice, just as powerful and raised in outrage.

  Jesse forced away the remaining cobwebs in his brain and finally eased his eyes open. As he turned toward the door, he experienced a twinge of pain. Stiffness had set into his muscles from the lack of mobility created by his restraints.

  Liliana hurried in, carrying an oversized trash bag. The odd metallic noises on the stairs had come from something inside that bag.

  Whittaker was hot on her heels, his body visibly vibrating with rage.

  “What don’t you get about ‘need-to-know’?” he shouted at her and scraped a hand across his salt-and-pepper buzz cut.

  Liliana dropped the bag on the ground with a noisy clatter and whirled to face Whittaker.

  “What you don’t get is that I need to find out what’s going on with Jesse.”

  Jesse smiled at the sound of his name on her lips. So much nicer spilling from the real Liliana rather than his dream woman.

  “You disobeyed my orders, Dr. Carrera. No one is supposed to know—”

  “No one does know. I did not tell Jesse’s family that he’s been found.”

  His family. She had seen his family, he thought and tried to sit up, but couldn’t with the ache in his muscles, the awkward way his hands were still bound to his hips and the manner in which the bed gave beneath him. He groaned at the distress in his body and squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.

  A second later, her calming touch came against his chest, but it was immediately followed by Whittaker’s curt, “When I give an order—”

  “I am not your slave, Special Agent Whittaker. You hired me to find out what’s going on with Jesse. To do so, I needed a more detailed medical history.”

  Spunk. She had spunk, and that brought a smile to his face.

  “Are you awake, Jesse?” she asked, apparently noticing that grin.

  “Yeah, I’m awake,” he said, his voice rusty from the night of disuse.

  “Please open your eyes for me.”

  He did, and a moment later, she was leaning over him, her gaze connecting with his. Inquisitive and intelligent, she straight away moved back and said, “Your little cocktail seems to have worn off, Special Agent. Could you please release him?”

  Whittaker strode up to her and snagged her arm, yanking her around to face him. “Are you crazy? Release him?”

  With cold fury glittering in her amazing brown eyes and her body trembling, Liliana glanced down at Whittaker’s hand on her arm. “Release me, Special Agent. I’m not your prisoner. Come to think of it, neither is Jesse.”

  Whittaker hesitated a moment but then did as she asked while also questioning her. “Meaning?”

  “He shouldn’t be treated worse than a criminal,” she shot back.

  Score one for the doc, Jesse thought but wondered at her reaction to the agent’s manhandling. Almost an overreaction.

  “Please unchain Jesse so I can treat those abrasions and get the samples I need to continue our research.”

  With a frustrated sigh and a false smile on his fac
e, Whittaker asked, “Is that a ‘pretty please’?”

  Liliana grasped her hands in front of her and shot him a patently bogus grin. “Pretty please.”

  Whittaker nodded. “I’ll send Bruno up to undo the shackles, but he’ll stand guard at the door in case you need him. Understand this: You disobey my orders again and this whole project gets scrapped.”

  Jesse bit back his reaction, but fear dug its ugly claws into his gut at the threat. He had committed to this farce because of his sister and his desire to find a cure for the disease that Whittaker had said would decimate her body.

  He couldn’t let the project be scrapped.

  “I’ll be good,” he said and hated the almost childlike way it came across.

  “I know you will, Jesse,” Liliana replied. She sounded as if she was speaking to someone who was mentally challenged.

  Though her tone ignited a small spark of irritation inside him, he strangled it by focusing on her face. An expressive face filled with a mix of emotions, although he didn’t know her well enough to discern all of them. The one he could decipher was pity, and that was the last thing he wanted from the pretty doctor.

  Bruno came into the room, swinging a ring of keys that jangled in time with his gait. He approached Jesse and searched for the key to the shackles. When he unlocked them, he said, “Next time it’s a bullet, Bradford.”

  “Special Agent,” Liliana complained, only Jesse was quick to intercede.

  “Ignore him, Doc. He must be an Eagles fan.”

  The comment dragged a surprised chuckle from Liliana and even Bruno. “Lost a bundle on that last playoff game thanks to you,” Bruno said and quickly undid the rest of the restraints.

  Bruno left them and took up a spot right outside the door.

  Jesse gingerly sat up, his bones and muscles protesting the movement. When he got vertical, the room started to spin wildly. He pressed fists to his head and leaned his elbows on his thighs to try and regain balance.

  Liliana was immediately before him. “Take a slow breath and hold it.”

  He did as she instructed and then repeated the process until the room stabilized. Then he straightened and glanced at her, meeting her concerned gaze.