Gabriel: A thriller (Standalone within the Divinus Pueri series)

by Tracie Podger

  “No, you’re expected to get over the self-pity and work with me to fucking solve this.”

  “How? I’m beat, Tom.”

  “We start right at the beginning. Where’s that pad?” he asked, looking toward the counter.

  I stood and opened a drawer, grabbed it and a couple of pencils.

  “What do we know?” he asked, pencil poised.

  “I have something I’ve held back. I think Lily was telling us the truth and I know why.” I then told him about the conversation from the barn, her child, and his father.

  “Fucking hell. Jesus. I…I don’t know what to say. Oh, man. The poor woman. Did you tell this to Mich?”

  “No. Right or wrong, Tom, she needed me. She just wanted a normal life, and I wanted to protect her child by withholding that. I wanted to just give her that one thing.”

  “Okay, I get that. How about we focus on what we know?” He smiled at me, understanding what I’d said.

  “We believe Sierra and Lily are sisters, same father, same mother. Sister Anna has disappeared and doesn’t want to help further, now that’s something I find very strange, so is she the blonde woman who gassed herself because of guilt? I think so. The statements are supposed to be fake, and bearing in mind we have nothing to compare Sister’s Anna’s handwriting with, her letter might even be fake. Let’s go with Syd as Sierra’s killer for the minute,” he added.

  We spoke, recapped, and wrote.

  “There’s one thing I just thought of. Why wait all this time to take Taylor, when they could have done that when Sierra was killed,” he said.

  “Because the cult doesn’t want Taylor. It’s the church. Go back to the beginning, Tom. What did Sierra say, they wanted to blow open the Catholic Church for allowing it to happen.”

  “Hold up, Gabe, slow down. Syd, Lily, they’re not part of the church.”

  “No, but what better way to kill off a cult than to have someone else do your dirty work. Doesn’t pay to have a bunch of priests running around town shooting it up, does it?”

  “Why would they kill off the cult?”

  “Because, ultimately, they were responsible for it. What was it Mich said? The convent burned down, maybe to erase records. Would a cult do that? Is this cult that powerful, or are we all being manipulated by the church?”

  “We need all the files.”

  “Then go get them.”

  “I’m suspended, Gabe, I can’t walk in there and pick up files.”

  I picked up my phone and called my dad.

  “Dad, I need some help. I need to break in somewhere.”

  “Where?” he asked, as if it was the most natural request in the world.

  “The police station.”

  “Fuck me,” he said with a chuckle. “Son, I’ll be over in a half hour.”

  “You’re not doing that, I can’t let you. I’d have to…” Thomas said.

  “What? Arrest me?”

  “Fuck’s sake, Gabe. Do you know how often I’ve broken the fucking law for you?”

  “No.”

  “That fucking F-150 you have sitting in the driveway? For some reason it’s doesn’t appreciate the speed limit!”

  “We need that file, Tom. Or we need to remember, word for word, what those letters say, can you?”

  “Sierra said she feared they would come for Taylor.”

  “And who put that fear into her head? Sister Anna: the sister from the convent. The same sister that said, religion killed my wife, but not what religion.”

  “Do you really think the Catholic Church is capable of running around killing people?”

  “Not the Catholic Church, but what’s to say there’s not an organization within it that is? Think about it, the feds, the real ones, said that Zachary was involved but just not in the way we believe. He turns up here at a very opportune time with the fake ones. I don’t think Lily recognized him, so he isn’t part of her cult, but what if he’s part of an organization within the church that wants it all silenced?”

  “It’s a little far-fetched, but…It’s all we have.”

  For the first time, in a while, excitement bubbled within me. Maybe, just maybe, we were finally getting somewhere. It seemed unbelievable that the greatest religion on earth could be involved in something so heinous, but it wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

  I stood and paced, running over events in my mind. Who said what? What were we made to assume? There was no doubt Father Samuel was evil and there was no doubt such horrific abuse had happened at his hands. But would the Catholic Church go to such lengths to cover it up? I was beginning to think so.

  It was less than a half hour when I heard a car pull up outside. Since we had new locks, and I was the only key holder, I had to let Dad in.

  “Sit, and you, Tom. Now tell me what the fuck is going on,” Dad said.

  “I don’t think the cult has anything to do with this. I think someone in the church is manipulating us all to do their dirty work for them,” I said.

  “Which is?”

  “Kill off the members of the cult.”

  “Why?”

  “To silence them? I haven’t gotten that far yet.”

  “And you think breaking into a police station is going to give you the answers?”

  “I think breaking into a police station is going to get me the file so I can check, word for word, what Sierra’s and Sister Anna’s letters said. From memory, they don’t mention the cult; they mention religion. Would they classify the cult as religious?”

  “And you’re up for this?” he asked Thomas.

  “Hell, no. I’m fucking suspended right now. That will be it for me, career over if I got caught.”

  “Then I guess you got yourself a babysitter, Son.”

  Thomas closed his eyes and let his head fall to the arms he had crossed on the table. Dad checked his watch.

  “I take it the station is alarmed?” he asked.

  “Of course it’s alarmed, it’s a police station,” Thomas mumbled.

  “Care to tell us…”

  “No! Anyway, I would have thought the code would have been changed the minute they shoved me out the door.”

  “So for now, let’s see what you’ve written down,” Dad said, eyeing the papers on the table.

  We went through all that we could remember of the past few days. I was conscious of the fact I’d named Zach and I’d listed questions. Dad didn’t make mention of that as he read through.

  I repeated what I’d remembered Syd saying.

  “Lily didn’t react to Zachary,” I said quietly.

  “Because she knew him?” Thomas asked.

  “I don’t think so, she…She wasn’t scared by him, if you know what I mean. Only that he had Taylor.”

  “So we have two things going on here, side by side. The abuse and then the silencing,” Dad said when we’d finished talking.

  “I think so,” I said.

  We fell silent, digesting the magnitude of what we’d been discussing, of what we were coming to believe.

  “Let’s go,” Dad said and stood.

  “Where?” Thomas asked.

  “The station, of course.”

  “You’re not going to break in now? It’s still fucking daylight out.”

  “No, we need to do a recon,” he said. “And we need daylight for that.”

  Thomas groaned but said nothing as Dad and I left the house and climbed into his truck, although the station was a walkable distance.

  “I’m going to ask you this, Gabriel, if you know all the answers, if you solve this, and I have no idea how this is going to end, will you be satisfied?”

  I looked at him, my brow furrowed.

  “Satisfied?”

  “Will it enable you to move on with your life?”

  “Yes,” I answered without hesitation. “I need to know who killed my wife.”

  “Sometimes the truth is uglier than you imagine, you prepared for that? You prepared to learn things that will alter you? Destroy
people?”

  “Dad, you’re not making sense. I want to know who killed my wife, why is that so wrong?”

  “It’s not wrong, if it doesn't open a can of worms, and I have a feeling this will.”

  “My daughter deserves to know, one day, that I did all I could. What kind of a father would it make me if I didn’t try?”

  “Then you need to know, I found this, in the house.”

  He handed me a small black cell, an older style one. I stared at it.

  “Turn it on, check the text messages,” he said.

  I did. What I saw were the conversations I’d had with Sister Anna.

  “How…?”

  “I don’t know, okay. I just don’t know.”

  “There’s only one person, Dad, that connects this all, who happens to be staying in your house.”

  He didn’t respond. We fell silent as we pulled around to the rear of the station, to the compound that housed Thomas’ car. We stepped out of the truck. The gates were locked, of course.

  “Can you see any cameras?” Dad asked. I scanned the building.

  “No, that’s unusual, isn’t it?”

  “Small town, small budget. See that window? The frosted one? I bet that’s a bathroom. No cameras in a bathroom.”

  “Or a cell?”

  Dad looked at me and shook his head. “Do you think there would be a window in a cell?”

  I wanted to laugh at my error but the situation was too serious.

  “You don’t need to do this, you know that, don’t you?” I said.

  “I don’t need to do a lot of things, Son, but this is important to you.”

  “What if we get caught?”

  “If you believe you’re going to get caught, then we need to turn around and go home right now, and put this out of your head completely.” He was pacing alongside the metal fence.

  “Okay, we’re done,” he added.

  “Done?”

  “Yep.”

  We climbed back into the truck, and at first, I was unsure what he meant. Before he pulled away, he took out his phone and sent a text.

  “You’ll stay at home, Gabriel. Leave this one to me.”

  “You won’t know what you’re looking for.”

  “I’ll find the file.”

  Thomas was pacing the kitchen when we returned. He had a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and held his phone in the other.

  “Well?”

  Dad patted his shoulder as he passed to help himself to coffee.

  “Well?” Thomas asked again.

  “Well, what?” Dad said.

  “What did you do? I was half expecting a call to say the station had been broken into.”

  “I told you, we went for a recon.”

  “And how do you plan to get in?”

  “You want me to answer that? Really?” Dad said.

  “You need to see this,” I said, handing him the cell.

  He read the text messages and then looked up at me.

  “Sister Anna’s phone, correction, Sierra’s phone. Where did you find this?”

  “I found it in a drawer, and since I didn’t recognize it, I turned it on and saw the text messages from Gabe,” Dad said.

  “So we’re back to Zachary?” Thomas said. “I need to hand this in, suspended or not.”

  Dad stood, a little shaky. “I think I’ll head home, I have chores to do,” he said.

  Thomas and I watched him leave. I didn’t think he had chores to do, the news that his son may be involved far more than we realized, seemed to have knocked the wind out of him.

  “I’ll go and hand this in. I’m going to say you found it, okay. So come up with a story,” Thomas said. I nodded, neither of us wanted to involve Dad in implicating Zachary.

  “I’m going to check on Taylor,” I said, as I walked with Thomas to the front door.

  Her door was ajar and I pushed it open slowly. She didn’t stir as I crept to the side of her bed and sat. I ran my hand over her head, pushing her hair from her forehead. She’d need a haircut soon, before school started.

  School. I had no idea if she would ever return to her small school, to a place she loved. When this was done, I doubted we’d stick around. I’d promised her once I’d take her to see the sea; maybe that’s what I will do. I’d pack up the truck and we’d just drive.

  I looked around her room, what would she miss? I should have given up the quest for revenge; I should have been a better father. But something inside me kept propelling me forward. Something kept that niggle going, burning inside like a cancer. I had to know, I just had to.

  The following day passed without incident or visitors. Taylor was bugging me to go out, to visit her grandma. I decided to distract her by going through her things.

  “Baby girl, let’s sort out all these old toys, the ones you don’t play with,” I said.

  We sat on her bedroom floor as I emptied the toy box and she refilled it. Even a broken crayon made it’s way back in, it was needed, I was told.

  “Clothes next. We want to give the clothes that don’t fit you to the other kids, the ones who can’t afford pretty dresses,” I said.

  We had a little more success with that. By the end of an hour or so, we had a pile of clothes that she loved and fit her, and a pile to discard. I bagged up the old ones.

  “Want to help me do the same?” I said.

  She laughed as we threw clothes all over the bed; she rolled around in them, attempting to put on my t-shirts. What was left was enough to fill a suitcase and plenty for me. When or if we left, I wanted to travel light.

  While Taylor decided to reinvestigate her toy box, I made a call to the local realtor. I wanted the house up for sale. I had no idea of it’s worth, I had a small mortgage but the balance would keep us going for a while. I also needed to decide what to do with the garage. It earned me enough to pay Jake, the bills, and some left over to live on. But was it worth anything as a business? I wasn’t sure. I owned the premises, maybe that needed to be sold as well.

  I missed being at my parents’; I missed being able to sit on the porch with a beer and chat. For two days I hadn’t left the house, for two days the only conversation I’d had was with a five-year-old. As much as I loved spending time with my daughter, we were both going stir-crazy. The yard was small and only held her attention for so long. We weeded and mowed the lawn; we planted seeds and made up stories about fairies living in an old tree trunk.

  I missed company the most in the hours after I’d put Taylor to bed and before the sun rose again.

  I thought about Sierra, I didn’t care what her name was. I thought about Lily. I swallowed down the guilt I felt whenever she came into my mind. I remembered some of my last words to her, telling her how much I hated her, but I hadn’t. I was hurting her to ease my own guilt. Guilt that I was fucking her and enjoying it.

  I sat in the yard with a cigarette after putting Taylor to bed and tried not to think. I just needed an hour’s peace.

  “Gabe?” I heard a man’s voice float through the air. It startled me enough to have me nearly fall from my chair.

  Sam walked around the corner; it was only the kitchen light illuminating his face that helped me recognize him. He wore dark clothing, a cap, and gloves. Without another word, he laid a large envelope on the garden table, and then left as silently as he had arrived. I stared at his retreating back.

  I reached out for the envelope; my fingers gently traced the brown paper. I wanted to call Thomas, but I hadn’t heard from him for a couple of days. I imagined the strain must have gotten to him. Maybe he needed to distance himself a little; maybe I needed to push him away.

  I picked up the envelope and walked inside. I slid my thumb under the flap and opened it, letting the contents spill onto the table.

  All the pages, neatly clipped together, were photocopies, and I wondered how long it had taken Sam to do that. The letters were there, the statements, notes, copies of photographs, and official looking documents. There didn’t seem t
o be any order, so I unclipped them and started to read.

  The first thing I saw was the photograph of the children, some had red pen circling their heads, and some had blue. I found the diary entries, written on them were questions—‘Who wrote this?’ ‘When were these written?’

  The questions surprised me, Thomas knew who and when, Sierra had told us. But then, maybe it wasn’t Thomas wanting to know.

  I found a document tracing Sister Anna’s phone back to Sierra; we already knew that. There was a transcript of what I’d said in my informal interview, it was pretty accurate. I wondered if that was normal to have a transcript. Since it was pretty accurate, someone must have recorded me speaking. I didn’t recall Mich taking notes. Written in the margin, near where I’d detailed Syd’s death, were two letters SC.

  Each of the statements had how the narrator had died, I sighed as I realized, Thomas, Mich even, had been right. Their deaths could have been accidents, could have been something else. The red circles, I found out, were explained deaths, unquestioned. The blue circles, of which there were three, were questioned. Lily had a blue circle around her head.

  So far, I’d found nothing that I didn’t already know. My heart started to sink. There had to be another file, what I had couldn’t be all of it. It was as I started to flick through the remainder that I found what I was looking for.

  I held up a piece of paper with details on Father Samuel. There were dates he had been questioned by the church and references made to statements that had been taken from him. It was an inventory, I guessed. At the very bottom it was signed, Zachary Malone. I was about to put it down when I saw the date. That document had been written, by his hand, nearly twenty years ago.

  “Twenty fucking years ago!” I said.

  I calculated that Sierra would have been five, Lily three. My brother was aware of Father Samuel’s activities when my wife had been in his care. I tried to think, Zach wouldn’t have been a bishop at that point, so what would he have been, a priest? Did priests investigate others? I doubted it.

  Something came to mind; I scanned back through the documents and couldn’t find the name of the convent. I grabbed my laptop and Googled. How many convents burned to the ground in the past twenty years? It couldn’t be that many. I got a hit.