Sins of Our Fathers

by A. Rose Mathieu

  “Bishop Pallone, I was hoping you could tell me where the photo was taken.” She moved to him and pointed at the gate in the picture. “I’m trying to locate this gate.”

  The bishop stood still for a moment, looking her directly in the eye, as though sizing her up. “May I ask why you want to know this?”

  “Is it a secret?”

  The bishop blew out a soft breath. “No. I just don’t see the relevance to Father Rossi’s death.”

  “You might be right, and it might not be relevant, but until I know the location, I won’t know for sure.”

  “What is your name again?” the bishop asked.

  Uh-oh. “Elizabeth Campbell,” she answered.

  “Ms. Campbell, where do you work?”

  She momentarily froze. Busted. However, before she could respond, she was saved by another member of the church approaching from behind the bishop. She watched the man dressed in a red cassock move toward them. The bishop turned to follow Elizabeth’s gaze and expelled a breath.

  “Cardinal Ryan.” The bishop bowed slightly, and the cardinal extended his hand. The bishop grasped it and kissed a ring on his finger. He then extended his hand toward Elizabeth, and she followed the bishop’s actions and bowed and kissed his ring.

  The cardinal addressed her. “I understand you’re looking for assistance in Father Rossi’s death. I was told you have a photograph.”

  She tried not to stutter. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  The cardinal smiled at the title. “I think Your Honor may be appropriate in the court. The official title is ‘Your Eminence,’ but you can simply call me Cardinal Ryan,” he corrected her good-naturedly.

  “Thank you, Cardinal Ryan.” Despite his higher ranking, she was more comfortable in his presence than with Bishop Pallone.

  “Now, where is this photograph?” he asked.

  Elizabeth pointed to the photo still clenched in the bishop’s hand. He reached for it, and Bishop Pallone released his hold. Cardinal Ryan looked down at the photo, adjusting its distance from his eyes, until he could see it clearly. A small smile crept across his face.

  “I do remember this day. I went to visit the school.”

  “The school?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Yes.” The cardinal pointed to the gate. “This is, or was, Saint John’s Boys School.”

  “I’ve never heard of it.”

  He looked off, momentarily lost in thought. “It closed down many years ago. Father Rossi ran the school.”

  “Where was the school?”

  “It was near the old textile mill on the county line. That area is deserted now.”

  Cardinal Ryan handed Elizabeth back the photo. “Is there anything else?” he asked.

  “No, thank you. You’ve been extremely helpful.”

  The cardinal smiled. “Well, I’m glad to have helped. Have a nice day.”

  Elizabeth offered a slight bow as he turned and walked toward the garden with the bishop in tow. She hurriedly exited the church property and walked back to her car, afraid someone would realize who she was before she made her escape. Her heart was thumping in part from excitement from her meeting with the cardinal, but also from the revelation of the photo location.

  *

  Cardinal Ryan walked at a measured pace, hands clasped behind his back, a deep crease etched into his brow. His red cassock flowed slightly with each step as a slight breeze played with the fringes. A bed of roses struggled to show the last of their color. Autumn was becoming crisper with each passing day.

  Bishop Pallone kept pace, waiting for him to wake from his reverie. The cardinal was methodical and spoke precise, measured words, and as Bishop Pallone knew, would speak only when ready. For this reason, he remained silent on their traverse through the cathedral garden.

  When they came to a gray marble bench, Cardinal Ryan sat as though a heavy weight pulled him down, and Bishop Pallone joined him. The silence was starting to eat away at his patience. Unlike the cardinal, Bishop Pallone was a man of many words.

  “You realize that we cannot continue with this. I’ve been negligent in my duties to have allowed this to happen.” The cardinal finally spoke.

  “With all due respect, Your Eminence, we don’t know if the killings are related.”

  The cardinal balked. “This we know. The branding and manner of killing is the same. We were wrong to believe that the simple man was responsible for the first death. We created this monster, and he’s back. We must act this time and not hide like cowards.”

  “Your Eminence, we cannot act rashly. Think of the archdiocese.”

  “I am, and I know what we must do.”

  “Your Eminence, just a bit more time.”

  “We have run out of time, I’m afraid.”

  Cardinal Ryan rose and made his way back down the path. Bishop Pallone remained in his seat, lost in thought.

  Chapter Fourteen

  While reading a message on her phone as she walked, Elizabeth nearly ran into Father Parker as she exited the church. “Oh, I’m sorry, Father. I was texting and walking.”

  “Yes, I’ve heard that’s not a good combination. Is everything all right with Rosa? I wasn’t expecting you today.”

  “Oh yes, everything’s fine. I just made some last-minute changes to the affidavit and needed to get Rosa to sign it again.”

  “You are doing good work. You make a difference in the lives of those you touch.”

  Elizabeth had heard this before, but coming from Father Parker, it held a special meaning. “Thank you, Father.”

  “And how are things with Raymond Miller?”

  “Well, I’m heading out to Saint John’s Boys School now,” she responded as though that sufficiently answered the question.

  “Saint John’s? That school has been closed for what, thirty years?”

  “So I’ve been told. You know the school?”

  “I’ve heard of it.”

  It wasn’t lost on Elizabeth that she might have been able to avoid her adventure at the cathedral if she’d only thought of going to the library with the photo to research it or had shown it to Father Parker.

  “If I may ask, why are you going there?”

  “Well…” She paused, unsure of how much to reveal.

  “You needn’t tell me. I’m only concerned for you. That area has been abandoned for a very long time, and it doesn’t seem wise to go there alone.”

  Touched by his honest concern, she went on to explain the iron gate and how she tracked it to the school.

  “I’d like to come with you, then.”

  “Father, that isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine. I’m just going to take a quick look around.”

  “Then you won’t mind some company. It would give me an opportunity to avoid the administrative work waiting for me, the part of the job that I could live without,” he replied with a smile. “I’m not comfortable with you going out there alone. It really is an isolated place. There’s a homeless camp not far from there,” Father Parker said in a more serious tone.

  Elizabeth considered this information. She couldn’t see how much protection an ordained priest could offer in hand-to-hand combat, should she find herself in such a situation, but she did appreciate his support. Since the day she started looking into the Raymond Miller case, she’d been met with resistance, and in some instances, downright hostility. Father Parker’s concern was a nice change. “All right, if you’re sure I’m not taking you away from anything important.”

  “Would I lie?” the father quipped back. They walked side by side to Elizabeth’s car. “Wow, she is a beaut.”

  “Thank you, I’m rather fond of her.”

  Father Parker settled himself into the passenger seat and stroked the soft leather. “I can’t say I’ve experienced this luxury before. I could get spoiled.”

  “You haven’t seen nothing yet. Hang on.” She shifted the car into reverse and punched her foot down on the pedal. The tires screeched, leaving tread marks in her wake.

 
; “Oh, dear Lord,” the father cried out as he reached for the ceiling handle and pushed his body back into the seat.

  After a quick journey, Elizabeth stopped the Roadster at the entrance of the school property. Two large black wrought iron gates that had once stood proudly protecting the school, now lay open, sagging on their hinges. She observed the elaborately designed cross engraved into each gate. Surrounding each cross, in the shape of a circle, were the words “Deo duce.”

  “Do you know what that means?” asked Elizabeth.

  “It’s Latin. It means ‘God as my leader,’” he responded.

  She passed the gates and pulled into a mostly dirt parking lot dispersed with chunks of gray asphalt that had been chipped away with time. Large weeds threatened to overtake the lot. She killed the engine, and the father finished a silent prayer and made the sign of the cross.

  “It wasn’t that bad,” she said.

  “No, but it was a close second to being run through the spin cycle in a washing machine.”

  Chuckling, she exited the car and approached the cement foundation of what looked to have once been a large building, the structure itself long since demolished. She circled the foundation and stood at its back side. Overgrown trees ringed the school property, and high grass blanketed the terrain. Smaller buildings were spread throughout the grounds, but most were torn down with only a cement foundation, like the main structure. Those that were still intact exhibited signs of rot. Parts of their roof tiles were missing, and colorful graffiti decorated their side paneling.

  Elizabeth approached the largest of the buildings that were still standing. It was a three-story structure with the windows boarded. The bottom portion of the outside walls was covered in a green mold. Two doors stood on each end of the building and a set of double doors in the center. As she completed a circle around the building, she found each door was locked. Metal latches were drilled into each door and frame and were secured together by heavy padlocks to keep out trespassers. She pulled on each door for good measure only to find them securely fastened.

  She turned to keep track of Father Parker and found him roaming the grounds admiring the wildflowers that had taken root. Elizabeth moved on to one of the smaller, partially intact structures that appeared to have been a storage facility and peered inside a window whose board had been pulled away. Bricks, ceiling tile, and debris littered the inside. “Well, this is a whole bunch of nothing,” she said to herself.

  At the back of the property stood a chapel. Elizabeth identified the building by the steeple still standing erect on the top. She walked the circumference of the church and found it locked and boarded like the rest of the structures.

  She remembered that she didn’t come alone and turned to see where the father had wandered, but lost sight of him. After retracing her steps back toward the car with no sign of Father Parker, she walked to the edge of the school property where the boundary of a dense forest began. She softly called out for the father and received no response. She moved farther into the trees and called again, her concern building for the welfare of the priest.

  “I shouldn’t have brought him,” she scolded herself.

  As she was prepared to call out his name again, she noticed another small structure mostly obscured by trees and brush, about fifty yards in. She made her way through the underbrush that threatened to tangle her feet to a dilapidated outbuilding. The building abutted a stone mountain behind it.

  The structure offered no window to look through, so she pushed down on a long handle on the door. The handle easily moved, but the door wouldn’t open. She banged her shoulder against the door, hoping to jar it free. After several attempts, she slumped against the door, closed her eyes, and tried to slow her breathing from the exertion.

  “What did you find?”

  Elizabeth jumped. “Ah, you scared me!” She had momentarily forgotten about Father Parker.

  “I’m sorry. I should have announced myself.”

  “I don’t know what it is. The door is jammed.” She demonstrated by pulling down the handle and pushing and pulling on the door to no avail.

  “Well, have you tried turning the handle up?” he asked.

  Elizabeth realized the absurdity of that, but decided to humor him. As she pulled up on the handle, the door easily opened.

  “One should always strive for up, rather than down,” Father Parker sagely advised.

  She rolled her eyes, then turned to face the inside of the structure. “This looks like an entrance to a tunnel, perhaps a mine.”

  She crossed the threshold into the darkness and walked about ten feet, until she came to a metal grate pulled shut across the passageway, blocking any further excursion. A rusted lock held the gate in place. She yanked down on the lock hoping time had compromised its strength, but the lock held. She then yanked up, and the father chuckled behind her.

  “I think we’ve reached a dead end, Ms. Campbell.”

  “You give up too easily, Father, and please call me Elizabeth.”

  “All right, Elizabeth, what do you propose?”

  She pulled the grate away from the wall. “I think I can fit through here.”

  “Oh no, Ms. Campbell—Elizabeth, I don’t think that is such a good idea. That gate is meant to keep people out.”

  “Where’s your sense of adventure, Father? Didn’t you ever see Indiana Jones?” Without waiting for a reply, she turned and trotted back to her car. Moments later, she trotted back with a large flashlight in her hand.

  “I’m always prepared,” Elizabeth said as she turned the flashlight on and off.

  She walked past Father Parker toward the structure. “When I was little, I wanted to be a Boy Scout. But my father told me that Boy Scouts were for boys, and Girl Scouts were for girls. I argued that Boy Scouts were so much cooler than Girl Scouts. The Girl Scouts did sissy stuff. I wanted my father to file a class action lawsuit based on gender discrimination on behalf of all the girls being denied entrance into the Boy Scouts. I think that’s when I knew that I wanted to be an attorney to defend the rights of others who couldn’t defend themselves.”

  He listened with interest to her story and momentarily forgot about the adventure on which she was about to embark. When they reached the metal grate, Father Parker again pleaded with her not to enter the tunnel; however, Elizabeth’s mind was set. She pulled the grate to one side and squeezed herself through the gap. He stood at the grate, watching the light of her flashlight move farther away. “This is absurd,” he called after her.

  Father Parker sat in a dilemma. He knew entering the tunnel was not only dangerous, but illegal. However, allowing Elizabeth to walk in there alone and come across who only knew what kind of danger was morally wrong. His moral stance won out, and he pulled the grate to the side and squeezed himself through. “It looked much easier when she did it,” he muttered.

  He walked quickly, following the beam of light in the distance. “Elizabeth,” he called out. The light stood still, and Father Parker caught up.

  “Glad you could make it.”

  “Against my better judgment,” he countered.

  The tunnel was dank and musty. Small streams of water ran down the coarse rock walls. He stayed close behind her, explaining to himself that it was because she had the light.

  “Aaahh, what was that!” Father Parker screamed and jumped forward, knocking into her. Elizabeth dropped the flashlight and quickly bent to pick it up before it rolled away.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked in a slight panic.

  “Something ran across my foot.”

  She shined the light on the ground around him. A small pack of rats squealed and scurried away from the light, one making its way across his foot in its escape. Father Parker screamed again and jumped from foot to foot.

  “They’re just rats.”

  “Just rats?”

  “I never would have taken you for being so squeamish,” Elizabeth stated as she turned and continued walking. He jogged to catch up to her.
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  “I’m not squeamish. I just don’t like rats.”

  “Don’t worry, Father. It’s our secret,” she teased him.

  “It’s not a secret. Most people, excluding you, don’t like rats.”

  They bantered back and forth for a few minutes, walking single file with Elizabeth in the lead, as the tunnel gradually descended deeper into the earth. She came to a sudden stop, and Father Parker ran into the back of her, causing her to lurch forward.

  “You know we could make this easier, and I could give you a piggyback ride,” Elizabeth quipped, as she regained her balance.

  “Why did you stop?”

  She shined the light on the wall, which revealed a concrete door.

  “Where do you suppose that goes?” she asked, pushing on the immobile handle, but the door didn’t budge. “It must be locked from the other side.” Elizabeth continued down the tunnel.

  “Maybe we should turn back now. I think we’ve gone far enough,” Father Parker offered in response.

  “Turn back? This is just getting good.”

  “Elizabeth, we don’t know how safe it is in here. This tunnel could give way and trap us in here.” Father Parker’s breathing was coming harder with a small rise of panic at the thought of a cave-in.

  “Relax, Father. This tunnel has probably been here for a hundred years.”

  “That’s not reassuring,” he said.

  “Just a little bit farther. This has to lead somewhere. Otherwise, why would it be here?”

  He conceded not because he agreed with her logic, but because Elizabeth had the light. After a few minutes, they came to a mouth of a small cavern. She entered the space with Father Parker right behind her.

  “You think a bear lives here?” he asked.

  “A bear! Yes, that’s it, Father. This is a bear’s house. A bear who secures his home with a metal gate and lock.”

  Elizabeth moved her light around the cavern, which revealed a decrepit couch with no legs sitting against one wall, along with articles of trash and ancient tin beer cans littering the ground around it. Several round white candles with the wicks burned halfway sat on the ground and ringed the walls. Against the back wall sat a long wooden table with a faded red cloth covering the top. Several more candles sat in the center of the table.