by T Gephart
My body slid into the passenger seat and waited for Michael to join me. I tried not to focus that it was the same place a dead woman had sat not so long ago. The mental distance needed because I couldn’t afford the physical one. Thankfully Michael appeared a few moments later with a green canvas messenger bag draped across his shoulder.
“You good?” he asked me, sinking into his seat and putting on his seatbelt. “No turning back.”
“All good.” I faked a smile and stared out the windshield, ignoring there was no view to concentrate on.
The roller door behind us rose; the sound of metal scraping bringing with it the bright sunlight. It was hard on the eyes, forcing them to close as the warmth hit my back.
Before I opened them, the car had started moving, reversing out of the warehouse and onto the road. The neighboring businesses had started their work day; the noise of trucks and workers spilling into the cabin of the car as we drove past them. No one so much as glanced in our direction.
There was no speeding, no erratic lane changes, no explosive road rage as we traveled to Saint Margaret’s. On the outside it looked like two regular people in a car, little did anyone know there was nothing regular about the car or the people inside.
The trip continued in silence. Michael didn’t even give me a sideways glance, his hands locked at ten and two on the steering wheel while his eyes roamed between the windshield and the rearview mirror. My fingers tightened around the seat belt, every mile we got closer to Saint Margaret’s plunging my stomach into a sea of knots.
It was a quiet neighborhood, but he drove around the back, parking in a side alley. He exited the car, carefully closing the driver’s side door and waiting for me to do the same from my side. He removed my duffel and my bag from the trunk, carrying both in one hand and didn’t bother locking the car. Instead he made his way along the back alley, giving a quick look over his shoulder checking to see I was following.
I hated the silence.
Hated it.
But there was nothing to be said.
There was a large hedge, thick and lush, that barely hid a chain link fence that was approximately eight feet tall. Between the hedge and the fence it seemed there was no way in from this side. It wasn’t until we got up close that I noticed a small gap in the brush, just wide enough for a person to push through, and just beyond that, a door. Michael stepped through first, his hands making quick work of the lock, swinging the door open and stepping through. He held it open for me as I followed, closing it and reaffixing the lock as soon as I’d cleared the threshold.
The garden was extremely well-maintained. The grass felt soft and spongy under my feet and all the garden beds had been neatly tended, with not so much as a weed out of place.
The church stood in front of us, its stained glass windows catching the morning sunlight while its large wooden door remained tightly shut. There was a stone path leading to the concrete steps, but we didn’t walk in that direction.
The property was bigger than it looked from the outside. The yard extended wide on the left hand side, distorting the symmetry of the block.
And almost hidden beyond the tree line was a medium-sized dwelling with a small graveyard edged up between the house-looking building and the property boundary.
“This way.” Michael tilted his head toward the house. “There is someone waiting for us.”
That person either heard us or had been watching as we crossed the yard because the door to the house opened before he even had a chance to knock.
Michael’s feet continued uninterrupted, taking a step though the doorway with me taking a second or two until I joined him the dimly lit entrance.
Standing calmly to greet us was a small woman in traditional nun attire. The habit she wore seemed heavy; the shapeless cloth unable to hide how incredibly thin she was underneath. And as she waited her hands were clasped in front of her, patiently. Her deeply lined face was impassive as she focused on me.
“You must be Sofia Amaro.” She spoke softly, her lips curving into a cautious smile. “I am Sister Catherine. You will be safe here.”
She had amazingly clear blue eyes, with a porcelain pale diminutive face. And while I knew nothing about her, when she spoke it was like a calming wave of warm water washing over me.
“Thank you.” I nodded, returning her smile. “It’s very kind of you to take me in.”
Her eyes shifted to Michael, who didn’t acknowledge her at all, instead looking beyond her into the hallway and asking, “Where’s her room?”
“Let me show you.” Sister Catherine nodded, her light feet barely making a sound on the tiled floor as she led the way.
There was obviously a connection between them, the air almost crackling with tension as we walked silently along the corridor passing rows of closed doors.
Sister Catherine took an old brass key from inside her pocket, slipping it into the keyhole and turning. The old lock popped as it opened, her hand pushing the door open via the handle.
“This can be locked via the inside too.” She smiled, stretching out her hand in my direction. “And this is the only key.” She dropped it into my open palm.
“What about the skeleton?” Michael barked, walking inside and surveying the room. “Or a master key?”
“The master key went missing a long time ago.” Her voice trailed off like she had meant to add more to the sentence. “It was never recovered. Other than that key, the only way to get inside this room is removing the lock.”
“Good. That’s good.” Michael nodded, staring at her intently. “I’ll get her settled.”
Sister Catherine nodded, understanding she’d been given her cue to leave us alone. She was just as quiet as when she walked in, her feet barely making a sound as she turned and closed the door behind her.
“So, she’s a friend of yours?” I couldn’t stop the nervous laugh escaping my lips as he dropped both my bags on the floor in front of an old wooden wardrobe.
“I don’t have any friends,” he answered drily, “but she owes me, so you will be safe here.”
“This was where your mother lived, right? Where you were born?”
“You shouldn’t need to be here for longer than a couple of days; either way, no one will bother you.” He avoided the questions entirely without breaking eye contact.
“I know.” I walked around the small room and took in my new surroundings.
There was a metal-framed single bed pushed up against the wall with large gray woolen blankets tucked into tight hospital corners. The walls were off-white with a small window facing a courtyard; the coffee-colored drapes had been pulled to the side, letting in some natural light.
It was a stark contrast to where I’d been sleeping the last few nights. And even though the room felt warm and secure, I had felt safer with Michael.
“I’ve got to go.” He cleared his throat. “Try and stay out of trouble.”
He didn’t bother with a goodbye, instead turning and taking a step toward the door.
“Michael.”
He stopped midstride and looked over his shoulder.
“Thank you.”
There was a slight nod of his head and then he was gone, leaving me in the empty room as I listened to his heavy boots echo down the hall.
My body slowly lowered onto the firm mattress, the room suddenly seeming larger now there was only me inside and I was left to my own thoughts. It will be fine, I told myself, it’s only for a few days.
It was only a few moments after Michael’s departure that Sister Catherine reappeared, materializing through the doorway without a sound.
“If there is anything we can do for you, please let me know.” She took another tentative step waiting for a permissive nod before she came any further. “Our accommodations are very basic but what we have we are happy to share. There is plenty of food and drink in the kitchen and the bathroom is on the other side of the hall.”
“Thank you, you’re very kind.” I tried to manage a smil
e, but I was almost positive I wasn’t convincing. “Do you have a computer?”
“Yes, there is one in the living room. And yes it has internet.” She smiled anticipating my next question.
“His mother lived here, didn’t she?”
“Is that what he told you?” she answered cautiously, so rehearsed if not for the sadness in her eyes I would have assumed she didn’t know what I was talking about.
I’d seen that look before, usually when answering the call of a domestic dispute and the woman refused to acknowledge there had been an altercation. The busted lip and blackened eyes explained away by a clumsy accident on their part while they insisted their husband loved them and would never raise a hand to them.
“Yes, he told me about her. That she lived here until she died giving birth to him.” I watched as Sister Catherine’s body swayed, her feet shifted softly to keep her upright. “He also told me she was buried outside.”
She sighed, her chest expanding with a heavy breath as she walked to the small window. “This was her room. No one has been in here since she left us.”
No matter how many years had passed, I could tell it was something that still weighed heavily on her. She continued to look outside, her face slowly falling into her hands as she took another deep breath.
“You don’t have to talk about it.” I hurried off the bed feeling like an asshole. She wasn’t the enemy and I had no right to question her. “I just tend to talk a lot when I get edgy. I’m a police officer and investigating is something that is a hard habit to break. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”
“It’s been a long time.” She swallowed, her hand rising up to her throat. “A very long time since I’ve spoken about her. But I think about her everyday.”
“Were you close?” I gently touched her arm joining her at the window.
“Everyone loved her,” her eyes filled with tears. “She was filled with such light, always put the needs of others before her own. Her heart was so pure . . .” She trailed off wiping away a fallen tear. “Anyway, you’re here now and I know she would have wanted you to have her room. She said she’d always felt safe here and I hope you’ll feel the same.”
There was a lump in my throat, it shifted uncomfortably as I swallowed, not anticipating feeling so emotional being in the room I knew Michael’s mother had lived.
“Well, if you need anything my room is the one right next door.” She stepped away from the window and padded slowly toward the door. “Our next meal is at twelve if you would like to join us, or if it would make you more comfortable I could bring a tray to your room.”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary.” I smiled. “I’ll be happy to join you.”
There were no more words, a curt nod her final goodbye as she disappeared just as silently as she’d appeared. And then I was alone again.
My eyes roamed once again to the tiny window, and I imagined Michael’s mother standing in that spot rubbing her belly. There were so many unanswered questions, like why Sister Catherine had mentioned that Rose had felt safe here? Safe from what? Persecution because she’d gone against her vows and fallen pregnant? Or was there more to it than that?
It was like an itch I couldn’t quite reach and it bothered me. Why had she had to die in the first place? Why not take her to a hospital? Surely the church would have preferred to deal with the scandal than to try and hide a body. And why had there been no investigation? There would have been some record of Rose being sent here from somewhere, how was her disappearance so easily explained to other church officials? How far did this cover up go? And why?
It was none of my business. I had so many problems, I didn’t need to borrow extra trouble but the itch remained, begging to be scratched.
“Damn it.” I blew out a breath, my hands bracing either side of the window as I cursed myself. “Damn it to fucking hell.”
It was later in the day when I finally met with Jimmy. I had called him after leaving Sofia, telling him that it was done. He assumed I meant I’d killed her, and I didn’t clarify, instead telling him I was ready to collect what had been promised to me. He was pleased, the condescending bastard congratulating me on a job well done as I gave him instructions of how the rest of it would play out.
He’d been surprisingly accommodating, the asshole falling over himself to seal the deal as soon as possible. He even had the nerve to chuckle, saying while it had cost him more than he would have liked, he’d happily employ my services again. Like I was looking for the endorsement.
Our meeting point was a shipping yard just off I-90. The brokerage company had come into financial hardship recently and so was running on limited funds. Security had been the first to go, the company preferring to keep its workers who could bring money in on their payroll rather than fat mall cops who sat on their asses watching television all day.
So it was the perfect solution, secure and away from roving eyes. It also was neutral territory with the owner not being connected to Jimmy or Franco and the best we could do without crossing state lines.
“Michael,” Jimmy rasped, his breath tearing at his throat as he coughed into his hands. “It’s a good thing I like you, I’m not usually this patient.”
He hadn’t come alone. His number one, Tony, was a dumb fuck whose gut was so big he probably hadn’t seen his dick in years. He also took the stereotype a little too far, looking more like a fucking parody of Goodfellas than an actual wise guy.
Sal, his personal bodyguard, was also in tow. And that guy was a straight up killer, so the only one I actually had to worry about.
There was also the possibility that the trio hadn’t traveled light, a bigger entourage waiting in the wings because we all knew Jimmy didn’t have the balls to face me alone.
“Cut the bullshit, Jimmy.” I barked out a laugh. “You don’t like anyone, and you waited because you knew I was the only one who could get it done without you looking weak to your enemies.”
“You always were too cocky for your own good.” His lips spread, giving me a look at his yellowed front grille. “But you better watch it, son, your good luck won’t last forever.”
“I’m not your son and considering the way you treat your kids, it’s probably just as well.” My arms folded in front of my chest as I leaned back on the heels of my boots. “And I don’t believe in good luck.”
Anyone who looked at me and thought any of this shit happened because of good luck was either stoned or had some serious psychological issues. No fucking leprechaun getting an ass fucking by a rainbow was responsible for my success. That shit had come hard fucking earned, I had the scars to prove it.
“You armed?” Sal asked, giving me a grin.
“Do you still have a small dick?” I smirked back, flashing the forty and nine I had on either side of my chest. “And you guys know I’m not good in social situations, so if you’d like to keep breathing I’d advise you to stay where you are. Since my run in with Franco, I’m having trust issues.”
“We’re not interested in taking you out of commission.” Sal held up his palms, the eye roll unnecessary. “So maybe everyone can relax their trigger fingers.”
“Where is she?” Jimmy asked, ignoring Sal and looking at the parked Chevy that I’d driven up in. “Her mother will insist we go through the motions. Our family will want to pay their respects.”
“Right here.” I tilted my head to the old Folgers Classic Roast tin sitting on the hood of my car. “Things got a little toasty.”
“Fuck.” Sal whistled through his teeth, his hand twitching by his side. Tony shook his head, stepping aside for Jimmy to move forward.
“This is not what we agreed.” Jimmy’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell happened?”
“Your daughter had a big mouth.” I picked up the tin and handed it to him. “And I’m not known for my gentle touch, so you get what you get.”
Jimmy snatched the tin from my hand and peeled open the lid as a film of ash rose into the night air. His hand gently til
ting it to the glow of the overhead lights, examining the contents. Hell, not sure why I bothered putting in the effort. I could have torched a goat and fooled the dumbass, his head shaking from side to side as he investigated the cremated remains.
“How do we know it’s her?” Tony spoke for the first time, Jimmy’s right-hand man proving he didn’t totally have shit for brains like his boss.
“Because who else would it be?” I didn’t even blink as the lie passed through my lips. “I’m not in the habit of collecting pets. Take it, test the DNA, it’s her.”
“Damn you.” Jimmy replaced the lid and gently lowered in onto the hood of his car. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?” His eyes wild as his gravelly voice got more animated. “This is not what we agreed.”
“So register your dissatisfaction on fucking Yelp, motherfucker,” I spat out through clenched teeth, not needing to manufacture my anger. “You tried to play me, and I am not a fucking pawn in your chess game. You don’t get to fuck me over and call the shots. In our world, all debts need to be paid and no one gets a pass, not even you. Consider this my fee.”
“You.” He took a step forward, only stopping when my hands disappeared beneath my shirt and went for my guns.
And all that did was set off a chain reaction, Sal and Tony going for theirs, all of us drawing at the same. My left and right both palmed bad news, one aimed at Jimmy, the other aimed at Tony.
“Steady.” Sal tried to be the voice of reason. “Don’t do anything stupid now, Michael.”
“If you’re gonna take your shot, Sal, take it.” I nodded to the barrel pointed in my direction. “But you better drop me, because after I pierce both these two assholes’ hearts, the next bullet will be for you.”
Jimmy didn’t have a gun; he was a delicate fucking snowflake who believed he’d done his time with steel in his hand and now wanted someone else to do his dirty work. And Tony hadn’t been up close and personal with a kill in over a decade, feeling the same sense of entitlement that his boss was suffering. So there was just as much chance he would knock himself out on the recoil as he did of actually hitting me with a bullet. These guys were nothing more than dirty businessmen, douchebags who relived the glory days but hadn’t been in fucking trenches for years.
