by Linda Barlow
Chapter Thirty-three
Matt called Annie from the airport the next evening and asked if he could come over. “I don’t want to go back to my place. Mrs. Roberts tells me the cops are staking it out.”
Why? she wondered. Could Sam have gone to the police and reported that he’d witnessed Giuseppe and Francesca making love? He wouldn’t do that, surely.
“Don’t worry. Matt’s always been able to count on me. “
She hoped so. God, she hoped Sam continued to be as good a friend as Matt had always believed.
While she waited for Matt to arrive, her brain continued its anxious spinning. She’d had a tense day at the site today, dreading every contact with Jack Fletcher, who had seemed sullen and threatening in the way he followed her constantly with his eyes. She just knew there was something wrong about him. If only she’d had a little more time to search his trailer. After her close call last night, she didn’t think she’d ever try it again.
And yet, the more she thought about it, the less she could see Fletcher masterminding the alleged plot concerning some sort of fraud with the cathedral construction. Participating in such a plot, yes. Dreaming it up and implementing it, no.
Equally disturbing was the way her mind kept replaying her last encounter with Sam. When he’d caught her examining the CAD file, she’d actually felt frightened. She’d sensed a hint of something in him that she had never seen before. Either that, or her fevered imagination was working overtime again.
Darcy’s words about Sam’s elusiveness had come back to her several times. Until Darcy said it, Annie had never really thought of Sam as elusive. But her friend was absolutely right—none of them knew very much about Sam, despite his genial and seemingly open manner.
Now it struck her that instead of being able to see into Sam’s depths, she felt as if she were always looking at the shiny glass of a mirrored surface, which reflected back to her whatever she expected to see. She couldn’t get beneath the surface—it was one-way glass.
Had he really seen Giuseppe and Francesca making love? Why did she doubt his word? Had Sam, like everybody else she’d thought she knew and cared about, ended up on her not-to-be-trusted list?
Curiously, the only person she totally trusted right now was Matt. The accused murderer whom more than half the city’s population believed had bribed his way out of the gas chamber was the only person whose story she fully believed.
“God, I’ve missed you, Annie,” he said when he arrived. He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hungrily, as if her lips offered him salvation.
She had to do something to help him. She hadn’t been able to save Charlie. Dammit, she wasn’t going to sit back and watch another man whom she loved be unjustly destroyed.
“I’ve got some dinner ready,” she whispered.
“Later,” he said.
They still hadn’t gotten around to eating when the phone beside Annie’s bed rang. It was Barbara Rae. “I think you ought to get down here right away,” she said in her firm, quiet voice. “Is Matthew with you, by any chance?”
“Yes.”
“Bring him.”
“Barbara Rae, what’s happening?”
“I have somebody here who would like to talk to you.”
“Vico?”
“Paolina. She’s alone. I’m not sure how long she’ll be here, so you’d better hurry.”
Barbara Rae met them at the rear entrance to the youth center. Her broad, kindly face appeared troubled; there was a crease between her eyes, and she seemed unable to summon her famous smile. “Come,” she said, ushering them through a dark corridor to a staircase that led to the basement. “She came to me after all, and I think I’ve convinced her to talk to you. I had the doctor come to see her. She was bleeding, but it seems to have stopped. She was terrified that she might be losing the baby, but it seems to have been a false alarm.”
“What about Vico?” Matt asked.
Barbara Rae shook her head. “She still refuses to say.”
They found the girl in a tiny but pristine room in the basement. She lay on a narrow cot, covered with blankets, her legs elevated to stave off further bleeding. Her lovely face was paler than Annie remembered, but her huge round eyes were dark and alive.
Annie and Barbara Rae went to her side. Matt hung back, leaning against the wall near the doorway.
When Paolina saw Annie she began to cry. Annie quickly sat down beside her on the bed and gave her a hug. The girl clung to her and sobbed.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Annie murmured.
“I wanted to come to you, but I was too afraid.”
“It’s okay. Being afraid is something I understand very well.” She held her for a while, despite what she read as impatience in Matt’s eyes. When at last the girl was calmer, she said, “Paolina, you must know that people are looking for you. And for Vico. Lots of people, including the police.”
“And the killer?” she whispered.
Annie shot a look at Matt, who was listening attentively. “You and Vico were in the cathedral, weren’t you, when Giuseppe died?”
Paolina nodded, her eyes wide. “It was our meeting place.” She looked guiltily at Barbara Rae, who was standing back in the shadows. “I know this was wrong, but we had nowhere else to go.”
“It’s all right,” Annie said gently. “Everybody needs a meeting place.”
“I didn’t see what happened. Vico did. But he still won’t talk to me about it. He says it’s men’s business and that women must not interfere in such matters.” She made a helpless gesture. “It’s part of his machismo, I think. He is very brave. But he is just a boy, really. I do not think he can fight this murderer alone.”
“What happened that night, Paolina?”
“We went to the cathedral as usual, and stayed until early morning because Vico knew that his uncle would be the first on the job. He was always the first on the job, and everybody knew it.”
The regularity of Giuseppe’s habits had contributed to his death. The killer had known exactly where and when to find him.
“Vico needed money. He wanted me to have an abortion and his uncle was the only person he could ask.”
Annie knew it would have been too late then for an abortion, but she didn’t interrupt. No doubt Vico thought he knew best, and the girl had been too frightened of him—or too much in love—to argue.
“Then what?”
“We heard someone coming. Vico thought it was his uncle, and he didn’t want his uncle to see me. So he made me hide in that room down the steps from the altar. The basement room.”
“The sacristy?”
“Yes. Where they will keep the sacred vessels and the priests’ clothes. I didn’t see what happened. Vico went back up to talk to Giuseppe. He came down once to whisper that it wasn’t his uncle we had heard, then he went up again. The next time he came down, he was crazy.”
“Crazy? What do you mean?”
The girl was trembling, obviously from the strain of remembering an unpleasant experience. “He was crying. I have never seen him cry. He was crying and he was angry. I thought he was going to hit me he was so angry. He told me that Giuseppe was dead.”
“Do you mean he left you down in the sacristy, and you didn’t see him again until after his uncle had been murdered?” Matt asked.
“That’s right.”
Annie glanced at him, knowing what he was thinking. If the girl had witnessed nothing, how were they to know that Vico himself hadn’t been the killer after all?
“You came back to the cathedral the following night,” Annie said. “Why?”
Paolina looked confused. Then, slowly, she said, “I was frightened, and besides, there was my baby to think about. I didn’t have the same hatred of the police that Vico has. I thought I should talk to them, maybe tell them that I, not Vico, had been in the cathedral, so they would know something, at least, of what happened on the scaffolding.
“I knew the police would be at the cathedral. But I also
knew Vico would be very angry if he found out. I realized I couldn’t do it. There would be too many questions. They would make me tell them everything. Vico would be caught and arrested and I would never be able to forgive myself. So I ran away.”
“But later you tried to talk to me.”
“You were so nice to me. I was afraid of the police, but I needed to talk to somebody. But…” She shrugged helplessly. “You had so many questions. It seemed to me that if I answered them, it would all unravel. And the biggest question of all I could not answer anyhow. I did not see the murderer. I cannot identify him.”
“Vico has never told you who the killer was?”
“No. When Vico decides to be silent, he is a rock.”
“But he knows?” Matt asked. “He recognized the killer?”
“Yes. He knows.”
“So if he recognized the killer, it was someone Vico knew from the time when he was part of the construction crew? Someone he’d met here, on the job?”
Paolina shrugged. “I’m not sure.”
“Can we be sure of this: Was the killer definitely a man?” Annie asked.
“I—I don’t know.”
“How does Vico refer to the killer?” Matt cut in. “Does he say ‘he’?”
Paolina was silent. There were circles under her eyes and she appeared very weary.
Barbara Rae stepped forward. “I think you’re going to have to leave any further questions until another time. Paolina has had a very difficult day. She needs to rest.”
Matt nodded, but repeated his question. “Think, Paolina. Does Vico refer to the killer as a male?”
“I think so,” she said slowly. “I’m not certain, but I think he does.”
Barbara Rae stepped between Matt and the bed. She touched his arm gently. “That’s enough now. Please.”
“There’s one other thing you should know,” Paolina said softly.
Barbara Rae frowned, but stepped back. “Quickly then, child. I want you to sleep.”
“Vico told me that his uncle was worried about two things, and that he thought they might somehow be connected. One was something to do with the stained glass panels that he was installing. But the other didn’t have anything to do with the construction site at all.” She glanced uneasily at Matt. “Giuseppe told Vico that he was going to speak to the police because he had some new information about Francesca Carlyle’s death. That’s why Vico is so afraid. He says it’s all connected, like a great giant conspiracy, like who killed JFK.”
Matt’s expression turned to stone. He stepped forward and leaned over the girl. “Dammit. Where is Vico?” he demanded.
The girl stared right at him and solemnly shook her head. “I can’t help you.”
“Won’t help us, you mean.”
Her gaze was clear and unyielding. “I will not betray him any more than I already have.”
“She’ll go back to him,” Matt said as they left the room.
“I’m sure she will. But not tonight. Barbara Rae said she was going to give her a sedative.”
“As soon as it wears off and she feels safe, she’ll go.” He looked at his watch. “It’s early. Not even eight-thirty. Even with a pill, how long will she sleep—six, maybe eight hours? At two, three, four A.M. she could be awake and on the move.”
“Well, I hope she sleeps longer than that!”
“We can’t count on it, though. We’re going to have to watch her. That’s the only way we’ll find that kid. I propose we stake out this place and follow her when she leaves. Ten to one she’ll lead us straight to him.”
Annie sighed. Matt seemed so positive about the right way to do things. She wished she felt as sure.
“It seems like such a violation of trust….”
“I’m sorry about that. But it has to be done.”
He had that ruthless, implacable look on his face again, and Annie knew that there was no resisting him when he was in this kind of mood. It was the same mood he assumed when conquering other companies… and on the first night when he had so explosively made love to her.
“A great giant conspiracy, like who killed JFK.”
An exaggeration, of course. But Annie knew that Matt, even more so now than before, wasn’t going to let it go.
“Before we leave, let me just say a few words to Barbara Rae alone, okay?”
Matt nodded. He looked very tired, and he still hadn’t been home. If he insisted on staking out the youth center tonight, he would have to sleep first. God knew, they both could use some rest.
She went into Barbara Rae’s office and closed the door. Quickly, without going into all the details, Annie filled her in on the latest developments—Sidney’s accusations, Sam’s wavering support for Darcy, and now Darcy’s firm denial of the charges.
When she was done, Barbara Rae gazed at her for a moment in silence. “There’s something else, isn’t there?”
Annie took a deep breath. “I told Matt to wait outside because I don’t want to say this in front of him.” She quickly explained what Sam had told her about having seen Francesca and Giuseppe in each other’s arms. “If it’s true, it’s one more strike against Matt. And I’m not sure about Sam—he says he’s not going to the police with this, but he seems a little uncertain. Barbara Rae, Sam is Matt’s oldest friend. He’s been betrayed by so many of his other friends that maybe there’s nothing more that can hurt him, but I think this will. I really do.”
Barbara Rae rose from her desk and went to the window. She stared out into the darkness, saying nothing.
“I don’t understand what’s going on around here, Barbara Rae, but suddenly I feel as if I’m wandering in a fog. A man is dead, and the chief suspect passionately denies that he had anything to do with it. For some reason, I’m feeling more likely to trust and believe him—a teenage drug dealer—than I am to trust and believe my own coworkers and friends. But one thing I do not believe. I don’t believe that Matt had anything to do with Giuseppe’s death.”
Still Barbara Rae said nothing.
“I think Sam lied to me,” Annie said. She surprised herself by the words. But they were out there now, and she knew that she didn’t want to take them back. “I think he tried to mislead me. I can’t explain it exactly. It’s as if I’m following the threads of a hopelessly tangled web. All I know for sure is that Matt still trusts Sam, whereas I suddenly don’t.”
Barbara Rae turned at last from the window. Her face was drawn and her eyes looked very tired.
“Are you okay?” Annie asked.
“I guess so. There are some things I have to think about, that’s all.”
Chapter Thirty-four
After Matt and Annie left, Barbara Rae finished up a few tasks at the youth center. She checked on Paolina, who was sleeping, and she wondered if she would still be here in the morning. Her bleeding had stopped, and she had refused to take the sedative Barbara Rae had offered. The girl was anxious to get back to her lover; when she woke, she would go.
Barbara Rae whispered a prayer for her. There was nothing more she could do. Paolina was stubborn and she was in love.
Barbara Rae went upstairs to her small, makeshift bedroom. She was alone on the second floor of the building, but not completely, never completely. She could feel and sense the powerful presence of God. He alone could see the secrets she held in her heart.
She went down on her knees at the side of her bed and put her face against the cold iron frame, feeling the rough rungs bite into her cheek. There she prayed, unmindful of the discomfort to her knees, her shoulders, her face.
“Dear Lord,” she whispered. “Help me to choose the right path.”
When at last she rose, long minutes later, she knew what she had to do.
Once again the temptation had been irresistible. It was nine o’clock at night, and Darcy had gone out to the convenience store near her house to get bread for tomorrow’s lunch. But she’d ended up cruising Sam’s neighborhood, and now she saw a precious parking spot only two blocks from his
home.
As she stepped out of the car she felt the familiar rush of adrenaline. But it was something besides passionate obsession that was driving her tonight. She was angry. And the anger felt good.
She was outraged that Sam had told Annie about their affair. She might not have minded if he hadn’t been so insistent that she tell nobody. God, what a hypocrite!
But she was even more furious to think that he would stoop so low as to suspect her of some kind of fraud on the cathedral project. Fraud, hell. He suspected her of murder!
She was going to confront him. She was going to tell him exactly what she thought of him. Not only for the way he’d betrayed her confidence but for the way he’d played with her emotions and then cut her off, leaving her yearning, hungry, starved for more.
She marched down the sidewalk toward his house imagining what she would say to him and how he would respond. What would he say to her charges? Would he deny them? Would he embrace them? Would he embrace her? Was there still a chance?
Maybe once she confronted him they would yell at each other for a while, then fall into each other’s arms. Maybe—
Stop thinking about it, dammit!
There was a stiff wind blowing up off the Bay, and as she walked, Darcy felt cold.
This is so stupid. Why am I doing this? Why can’t I stop?
She was within sight of Sam’s house when she suddenly stopped walking. She realized that tears were pouring down her face and that she was about to break down.
Only you can stop yourself, said a voice inside her. Only you. And you can do it. But you have to try.
You have to set your mind upon reason and sanity. You have to say to yourself, Okay, this is it, this is enough, it’s over. You have to say, I have a problem and I need help. Then you have to get help, Darcy. Therapy if that’s what you need. You’re not the only one who has these feelings. You are not alone.
Darcy leaned against a tree and let herself sob. “God, I sound just like Barbara Rae,” she muttered.
She had no sooner thought this than she saw Barbara Rae herself walk down the street from the other direction, then head up the walkway to Sam Brody’s house.
