A chain holding his ankle restricted his movement, and Simon could see that his skin was raw and peeling where the metal band dug into his flesh. His hair, matted and greasy, hung in his eyes. He was afforded the luxury of a wet towel to clean himself twice a week, and a bucket that served as his bathroom was left within his reach.
David clutched his rock and surveyed his latest work. Simon knew that the small stone had become his sole possession in his barren world. Absorbed in David’s world, Simon was unaware that Pallone, Reynosa, and Sullivan had snuck behind him, until they pushed him forward, and he tumbled into the room. David jumped at the commotion, and Simon quickly scrambled to his feet as the other boys mocked him. The scent of beer invaded the room, telling Simon all he needed to know about what the others had been doing.
Pallone, who was nearly twice the size of Simon, moved to David and kicked at him. “Get up.”
David pushed himself back against the wall, clawing at it and trying to find a hold. “No, leave me be.” Normally, the drugs made him seem less physically coordinated, but today he looked stronger. Despite the renewed strength, he was still too small to put up a serious fight.
Incensed at David’s rebellion, Pallone pulled him down to his knees and held him by his hair. “Now, that isn’t proper behavior. Is it?”
David involuntarily released the rock that was still gripped in his hand.
“What’s this?” Pallone watched the rock come to a rest and then stomped on it. David rammed his shoulder into Pallone’s leg in an attempt to defend his one possession, but it was too late, and Simon could hear the soft crack as it was broken into pieces.
David slumped in defeat, mourning his loss, while Simon stood by watching. He didn’t want to cross Pallone, who was bending to tend to his leg. “I think you bruised me.” He pulled back David’s hair, forcing his head to tip up. David struggled to turn his head away, and a set of dog tags that encircled his neck came loose from under his shirt. Pallone snatched at it, snapping the chain. David struggled in an effort to take back the necklace, and Pallone tossed it at Reynosa. David lunged forward, attempting to intercept it, but the heavy metal chain had a hold of his leg and yanked him back. He fell to the ground and looked longingly at the necklace. Reynosa laughed at David’s grief and then threw the necklace at Simon as though it were a game of keep-away. Simon grasped it as it struck him in the chest, but he was unwilling to continue the taunting and shoved the necklace into his pocket.
“Get up,” Pallone ordered, but David ignored him. Pallone reached down and grabbed the front of his shirt, but before he could pull him up, David bit his arm. “Ow, fuck, he bit me.” Pallone stared down at him with vengeance in his eyes. “Chain him up!”
Reynosa and Sullivan snickered and complied, forcefully pulling David up and securing his wrists to the chains that were dangling from the ceiling. “Get his other leg too,” Pallone said.
David hung with his legs and arms pulled apart, and squirming became futile, as it only dug the metal cuffs deeper into his skin.
“Useful little things, aren’t they?” Pallone asked, pointing to the chains. “They say that this used to be where they brought the boys that had ‘disciplinary problems.’” He emphasized the words by forming quotation marks with his fingers. “After a few days, those problem students were new men. No more disciplinary problems. That was before Gesler came along and found a new use for this room.”
Pallone walked over to the side wall and pulled down a coiled flat whip hanging on a nail. “Want to see how they cured those behavior problems?” He brought the whip down on David’s body, and he screamed as the leather traveled across his skin. After a few more strikes, David settled into a soft whimper, but Pallone continued in his delight in delivering suffering as the whip fluidly rose and fell like a wave.
“Pallone, that’s enough,” Reynosa said.
David hung sagging on the chains, and Pallone stepped back to observe his work. Red angry welts were visible on his arms and stomach where his shirt was pulled up. Reynosa and Sullivan unchained him, and Simon turned toward the concrete door leading to the tunnel, unable to watch as David allowed himself to be pulled along. “Now that’s more like it,” Pallone stated in approval.
As they dragged him through the tunnel, Simon trailed behind, and they passed the inner cavern, where a soft glow spilled out. Simon noticed several small white candles that circled the outskirts of the room, and Pallone changed course and directed them into the small room. A panic rose in him when he realized that they had never brought the children outside the cement room without either Rossi or Gesler present, and certainly never into this room.
“I want him first,” said Pallone. They dropped David onto a tattered couch resting against the side wall, causing an empty beer can to rattle against the floor, and Pallone began unbuckling his pants.
David lay motionless until he was roughly pulled up and pushed against a long table in the back corner. He stared up at a wooden cross hanging upside down. Simon stared at it too, sure it was a sign that God had forgotten him.
“You like that, don’t you? It’s my creation. It’s sort of a ‘fuck you,’” Pallone said with a slur more evident in his voice.
As he pressed his weight against David, Reynosa interrupted, “Shut up, Pallone, and be done with it.” He began fumbling with his own pants in anticipation.
With a sudden rage over the violation that was occurring, David reeled back his head and slammed it into Pallone’s face, causing him to stumble back at the unexpected blow. Turning quickly, a silver disc came free from beneath Pallone’s shirt, and David viciously ripped at the chain, and Simon watched the St. Christopher pendant catapult through the air.
David swung his arms and kicked at the boys as Simon meekly attempted to step in and help restrain him, but he was too concerned with getting hurt to be effective. After an intense struggle, David’s knuckles were bloody, and to Simon’s amazement, the others were on the ground nursing wounds. Simon remained frozen, and they momentarily locked eyes before David seized the opportunity and ran down the tunnel, but soon his strength ran out, and the other boys descended upon him and knocked him over. He fell and rolled before he popped up and began swinging again, but the others were better prepared this time. Fists rained down on him, and he covered his head and fell to his knees.
After nearly a minute of continuous blows, Pallone ordered them to halt. “I think he’ll be more obedient now.” Blood was dripping from Pallone’s nose, evidence of where David’s head hit him. The group, panting slightly from the exertion, backed up, giving David room to rise, but he lay still on the dirt tunnel floor and turned his head to see the dim light filter out of the open door to the cement room, and Simon thought he saw a calm resolve in his eyes.
David rose unsteadily, and when he pulled himself up to his full height, he looked directly at Pallone and released a screech that ripped through the tunnel. They flinched when David threw himself on top of Pallone, and Simon remained motionless and watched as Pallone pulled David off of him like a doll and threw him to the ground. A dull thud could be heard as David’s head struck a small boulder, and his body went limp.
“Oh crap, I think you killed him!” screamed Sullivan.
Panicked, Simon turned and ran out the tunnel, and he could hear the others following, but didn’t look back. The only thought in his mind was to get Father Rossi because this mess was too big for them to clean up alone. In a matter of minutes, he was on his return trek with the other boys and Father Rossi in tow. Cutting through the church, Simon and the other boys ran bunched together down the aisle. When they reached the basement door, Pallone shoved him out of the way to pull on the door only to find that it was locked. Father Rossi came up from behind, panting heavily, and pushed his way through the boys and pulled a key from his pocket. Unwilling to let the father take the lead, Pallone forced himself past the priest once the door opened, and Father Rossi followed, with Simon trailing behind Reynosa and Sullivan.
They only stopped once they passed through the concrete door and were inside the tunnel. Turning in a slow circle, Father Rossi scanned the passageway. “Well, where is he?”
Pallone opened his mouth, but no sound came out.
“He was right there,” Sullivan exclaimed, pointing to the rock on the ground.
“He’s not here now, is he?” Father Rossi condemned.
“He wasn’t moving. We thought he was dead,” Reynosa defended.
“Well, as I see it, either he ascended or he escaped. I am betting he is not with the Lord right now.”
Father Rossi swung around at a sound, and Simon’s eyes followed to see a flashlight in the distance moving toward them, and they waited wordlessly.
“What the hell is going on,” came a disembodied German accent from the dark.
Father Rossi pointed to the boys. “They let the boy escape.”
Simon did not need to see him to know that Henry Gesler was clamping down his jaw. He had seen him angry before.
Gesler pulled himself just short of Father Rossi and spat out, “You’re incompetent, you fool.” He pushed Father Rossi back, who lost his footing and fell. Simon backed up, unsure whether to stay and watch the altercation or run. Filled with fear and indecision, he stood frozen with the others.
From the ground, Father Rossi looked up. “No more.”
“You pathetic fool, get up,” Gesler commanded.
Father Rossi rolled to his hands and knees in an effort to rise. As he got his feet under him and pulled himself up, he yelled, “No more.” The priest swung the heavy rock that was laden with David’s blood and hit Gesler across the head. A crack sounded and Gesler stood still, his mouth gaping as blood began spilling out of the corners. A large trail of blood made its way down his face from the large indentation in the side of his skull. Eyes wide in disbelief, Gesler continued to open his mouth, but no words came out, and he finally succumbed to the blow, collapsing to the ground.
Father Rossi kicked at the prone body, but no movement came. He bent to feel for a pulse and slowly rose and made eye contact with each of the boys. “There is a plastic sheet in the basement. Wrap him in it, take the shovel and bury him in the woods.” Without a word, Simon and the boys turned to follow the priest’s command. Before they disappeared into the cement room, Father Rossi called them back. “Boys.” Each of them turned to face the father. “We will never speak of this again.”
*
Elizabeth stopped her efforts with the bolt cutters, fully engaged in Simon’s story. “Dear God, what did you do?”
He began sobbing, “I’m sorry. Just leave me here. This is my indemnity.”
She actually considered leaving him for a moment, but realized that it would make her no better than him.
A noise from the corner of the room caused Elizabeth to snap her head to the side to find the source. Raymond stood just inside the door holding the flashlight, and she cursed herself for once again forgetting about him. She had no idea how long he’d been standing there or how much he had heard.
“Raymond, are you okay?”
He had a strange look on his face as he stared at Simon.
She beckoned him over and showed him how to work the bolt cutters. “Squeeze it together as hard as you can.” As Raymond awkwardly worked the cutters, Elizabeth resumed pumping information from Simon.
“So the letter on my car, you wrote it. Then you sent the letter to the judge?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” she asked. “Why the anonymous letters? Why not come forward? And sooner?”
“I was a coward.” Simon sniffled. “The symbol carved on Father Portillo, we had seen it before.” He stared at the cement floor as though searching, before he finally spoke again. “The others feared that it would all come out, but I hoped it would. But…then he was arrested.” He gestured his head toward Raymond. “The others were relieved. They thought it was over, and there was no attention on the school.”
“You set Raymond up, all of you.” Elizabeth’s mouth twisted in disgust as she emphasized the last word. “You torture children, abuse them. Why not target a mentally retarded man to round out your list of good deeds?” Her voice grew in volume as she spoke, and Raymond stilled his hands and approached her with concern. He knew she was upset, but the conversation was too difficult for him to follow.
“It’s okay, Raymond.” She patted his hand that held the bolt cutters and looked at his work, realizing that he had cut through the chain, and Simon’s hand was free. “You did it. That’s great,” she said with more enthusiasm than she felt, for Raymond’s sake. “Can you keep going and cut this side?” She pointed to the chain holding Simon’s other hand, and Raymond nodded.
Simon tilted his head to the side to get a look at Raymond. “We didn’t set him up.”
“The hell you didn’t. The anonymous phone call, the Bible, the cross, the confession.” She delineated each one carefully.
Simon shook his head vigorously. “No, no, you have it wrong. We’ve done bad things. I’ve done bad things. Reynosa, Pallone, Sullivan, they did things to stop the new investigation to protect themselves, but the arrest and confession, that was all him,” he said, looking at Raymond.
“Bullshit!”
“Look, you have no reason to believe me, but I swear the others and I had nothing to do with him being arrested or the confession. I put his case on the list to be reviewed. The mayor gave me the final list to distribute, and I added his case on it, even though I believed he did it.”
“If you thought he was guilty, then why add it to the list?” she asked, crossing her arms.
“I’m not really sure exactly; it was an impulse. The mayor was being his usual asshole self, and I wanted to get back at him, so I added the case to the list. I knew it would piss him off, but I had no idea all of this would happen.” He used his free hand to gesture to the room.
She had no reason to believe the man, but at the same time, at this point, he had no reason to lie. “So if you and your merry gang of thugs had nothing to do with Raymond’s arrest and confession, then who did?”
He remained silent, but his silence was all she needed to hear, and she looked at Raymond. His face was red with exertion as he used all his force on the bolt cutters. She and Simon watched him together in a shared moment, and she could see a small portion of the angry scar on Raymond’s hand that he had never explained.
In her moment of doubt, Elizabeth wondered how much she really knew about Raymond. In all the time she had worked on this case, he never claimed his innocence. She just assumed it because the pieces didn’t seem to fit, but neither did the confession nor the cross in his pocket.
She shook off the chill that ran down her. Regardless of the confession and the cross, Raymond didn’t commit the last three murders, at least not himself. While staring at Raymond, she heard the chain snap, and Simon’s other hand was released from its hold against the wall.
“Good work, Raymond. Now just work on these last two,” she said, devoid of any emotion, and pointed at the chains holding Simon’s feet.
Before Raymond could settle in to work on the next chain, Simon grabbed the bolt cutters from him. “Let me do it.”
Raymond looked hurt at the rough treatment, but Simon ignored him and bent over to clamp down on the chain, and Raymond backed away to take up his earlier position by the door. With Simon now working on his own freedom, Elizabeth contemplated returning to the car with Raymond to wait for Grace. She bent to retrieve her backpack and jumped when she stood up and faced a new figure standing near the door.
“Father Parker, you scared me. You got my message. Thank God,” she blurted out rapidly.
“What’s going on here?” he asked with his eyes fixed on the bent figure with the bolt cutters.
“This is Simon Fisher. He works for the mayor. It seems he was the next target. We’ve been trying to cut him free.”
“I see. What can I do?”
“Maybe you could help him cut
those a little faster,” she said and turned to watch Simon’s progress.
“Of course.” Father Parker moved to step around Raymond, who turned slightly and broke into a smile, recognizing the priest.
“Pappy!” Raymond exclaimed.
Father Parker smiled at him. “Raymond, you’re a good boy.”
Raymond beamed with pride. “Pappy is happy.”
Elizabeth snapped her head toward him. “What did you say?”
Raymond’s smile faded at her serious tone, and he pointed to Father Parker. “Pappy is happy.”
Her eyes grew wide as Father Parker stepped behind Raymond and removed a knife and casually put one arm around his chest. He pulled Raymond back against him, holding the knife in his other hand below his throat. Raymond stood oblivious to the knife and the threat, and he snuggled back into Father Parker’s hold, relishing the attention.
“No,” she choked out.
Simon stopped his movements and stared at the priest, holding the bolt cutters in front of him defensively.
“I-I don’t understand,” she stumbled out. “You’re a priest. You helped me.”
Father Parker smiled. “This suit is but a costume, as you know very well. As for helping you, I think it was mutual. The first one, I traced him to the school, but he was the wrong one, a mistake I truly regret. I almost gave up, a failure, but then I met you.”
She scrunched her brows together in confusion.
“You gave me this.” Father Parker reached into his pocket and pulled out a worn card. She squinted to read it and recognized it immediately. It was her business card with her cell phone number written on the bottom. She remembered giving him the card on their first meeting.
“My card?” she asked.
He turned the card over, and on the back was a drawing of the circle with the three triangles that Raymond drew during her first visit to the prison. “As time went on, I guess I became complacent. Lost sight of my purpose, but then you gave me the sign to begin again.”
Sins of Our Fathers Page 26
