by LS Sygnet
Yet this time, he was probably telling the truth. Well, certainly honest regarding how that gun came to be in Sully’s possession – at least indirectly. “Is there any hope of tracking where his calls came from, that he actually had phone calls from a yet unknown person who wanted him to implicate me?”
David hesitated.
“Don’t do this to me. You can’t tease me with a little bit of information and not divulge the most important piece, David.”
“We’ve already verified that he did receive messages to wait for calls in a couple of locations in New Jersey, Helen. And the phone records indicated that calls came in at the times Franchetta claims, for the duration he cited.”
“But?”
“Well, that’s the problem. He said the person who conveyed information to him since he became a guest of the hospitality of the federal prosecutor is one of us.”
“FBI?”
“At least that was his assumption, since the first time he met the man, he was in the company of Seleeby.”
I groaned again. “This means you’re bringing Seleeby back into the fold.”
David chuckled. “Not really, but sort of. He’s been summoned back to Washington for a barbecue.”
“A –”
“Figurative, my dear, and perhaps roasting would be a better word, since there was never an official report made on this conversation he had with Franchetta. Of course old Eddie claims that was because Seleeby promised him it was off the record.”
“And this was the conversation where Franchetta said I was present at the crime scene, yes?”
“Well, Helen, you were there when Rick killed himself.”
“And now you’re going to need my deposition about what happened that night.”
“Possibly. As I said, the defense wants to force a jury to impeach any testimony given by Franchetta.”
And now my perjury would be required to give credence to the word of a mass murderer. Fabulous. My day just kept getting better and better.
“The good news is that Franchetta is, at least for now, sticking to his story that you were nowhere near the national park that night.”
Ah, paranoia, my constant companion. Why in the hell would Franchetta protect me?
Chapter 10
Saint Agnes parish was one of the smallest in metro Darkwater. Johnny supposed he always liked the place because it reminded him of his favorite nun, Sister Agnes Marie, as a child attending school at the Sisters of Mercy Academy. It wasn’t in the nicest part of Downey, but he’d grown up in that parish, and for some inexplicable reason, he woke with a need to feel closer to his roots this morning.
Not that he’d actually felt connected to his past or his parents for a long time. Or the old parish.
Perhaps it was the early morning visit to his parent’s old bungalow before dawn that stirred the nostalgia. If Crevan hadn’t begged him to give them the option of housing Kathleen Conall in the house rather than the penthouse, this odd mood wouldn’t have settled over him.
Yet finding his mother’s rosary that morning while packing up a few items and preparing the master bedroom for a guest had done the trick.
He fisted the very old beads that had once belonged to Christine Orion’s grandmother. Prayer wouldn’t help him now – at least that’s what Helen would tell him. After less than a year of chasing Helen’s shadow, he didn’t doubt anymore how she lived a life without faith. Hell, most of the time, Helen’s way made a lot of sense. It was a lot easier to let man bear the responsibility for his crimes than it was to imagine an invisible source of evil trying to erode the good instilled in man by God.
Which was exactly why he sat outside Saint Agnes parish clenching a rosary hard enough to leave a deep imprint in his fleshy palm. No, Johnny couldn’t discard his faith that good should overcome evil every time. He couldn’t let it go, wouldn’t let all the lessons Sister Agnes Marie taught him die by strangulation from a bitter and harsh reality.
Sometimes the bad guys won.
It was the crux of his current crisis of faith, after all. How could a loving God let Helen and their unborn sons be in so much danger? How could he allow so many truly evil men escape justice?
It was inexplicable.
Johnny walked slowly up the crumbling stairs to the church. Inside, he lit a candle, made the sign of the cross and found a way to a pew to pray for guidance. The sense of peace that usually accompanied his prayers eluded him this morning.
With a sigh of resignation, Johnny rose to leave. The sight of an elderly woman exiting the confessional weeping gave him pause. Perhaps that was part of the problem. God didn’t hear his prayers, because there was too much Johnny refused to confess, couldn’t regret.
His chin dipped low. Maybe that was the whole problem, not just part.
He slipped into the confessional and sat, waiting for the screen to open. When it did, he murmured his first confession, that it had been nearly a year since he’d darkened the doorway of the church, that he felt his faith in God slipping away from him.
The priest’s low voice drifted through the screen. “God accepts all of your burdens if you’ll let him carry them.”
“I know,” he said. “It’s just been… unusual lately.”
“Since your last visit to the church?”
Johnny nodded. “I don’t really know what happened. Well, I do, but she hasn’t discouraged me from coming here or believing what I believe. In fact, we rarely discuss my religion.”
“She?”
“My wife,” Johnny said. “And honestly, Father, I understand why she doesn’t believe in any of this. Nobody taught her about God. Sometimes I wonder how she has a moral compass at all, given how she was raised.”
“Are you saying your wife grew up without love?”
“No, no,” Johnny said quickly. “Well, a mother’s love, certainly, but her father… he compensated so much.”
“Then perhaps her sense of morality comes from him, yes?”
Johnny laughed. “Yes, that would be an accurate statement. Seems like I’m learning a little more every day about his sense of right and wrong. Maybe that’s why I feel so conflicted about my faith now.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, because he didn’t believe in God, yet in many ways, Wendell looked at the world exactly the way I do. Or maybe it’s the other way around. I’m starting to see why he did some of the things he did. And the more I learn about him, the more I can relate. He protected his daughter, and I feel this unbelievable compulsion to do the same thing, no matter the cost.”
“Is she in danger?”
“Oh Father, if you only knew.”
“I’m listening.”
“Helen’s like a magnet for it. I don’t understand why. I’m not sure if it’s always been this way with her, or if it’s simply because from the very beginning, someone didn’t want her in Darkwater Bay, but the threats have been one after another since she came here.”
“I see.”
“You can’t possibly,” Johnny sighed.
“I see that it causes you immeasurable concern. Clearly you love your wife very much, as you should the woman who you have made vows to God with. Whether the danger is literal or more of a metaphoric concern for her eternal soul, it really doesn’t matter in the eyes of God. Yet at the same time, we must trust that God’s will, will always supersede our own. We don’t always understand his ways, or the methods he uses to accomplish what he wants.”
“Are you saying it’s God’s will that my wife is murdered or worse?”
“Of course not,” the priest said. “I simply mean that you may not be the tool God has in mind for her deliverance or her safety. Perhaps he has brought these trials into her life – whatever they are – to bring her to him, to teach her to trust that his hand will guide and protect her as it has you. He led you back to the church this morning, after all.”
“I can’t imagine anything that would make her believe.”
“She has no religious foundatio
n?”
Johnny smiled. “Well, maybe a foxhole here and there. I think she prayed when I was hurt last December, but of course, she’d never admit it.”
“Would she do anything to protect you too?”
“She’d die trying,” Johnny admitted. “Although I’d rather she didn’t.”
“Try?”
“Die trying. I’m not saying she has a death wish. Neither do I, for that matter. But we’ve both done things, and sometimes I wonder if all of this now isn’t just God’s punishment.”
“Would you like to confess your sins, my son?”
He nodded. Johnny began the recitation, from his little white lies, to looking the other way when he suspected that Salvatore Masconi had been murdered. “And then there was the thing last fall.”
“God loves you. You know this. But for peace, you need to confess, to receive the benefit of his blessing. He must carry your burdens.”
Johnny sighed again. “I made sure someone who was guilty of unspeakable crimes would be punished, and someone who simply overreacted to abuse found peace.”
“That hardly sounds like sin.”
“Even if the punishment is for a crime the man didn’t commit?”
“Ah,” the priest said. “As I said, God’s ways are not ours, or even comprehensible to us. There are times when I wonder at his methods when it seems that the guilty suffer no consequences, my son, and other days when I come to understand that even though men think they have evaded justice, no one can escape the final judgment. There are no legal loopholes in the afterlife.”
“So you’re saying that even if God forgives me, I’m still damned.”
“Not at all. You’ve confessed your sins. And for all we know, you were the tool that God used to exact his justice in this life. As you said, man’s justice fails. We cannot escape God’s plan, no matter how much we might wish to do so.”
Johnny nodded. “To be fair, this man who was arrested, it doesn’t look like he’s even going to be prosecuted for what I thought he’d face. In fact, a far worse crime was exposed.”
“God’s will,” the priest said. “Go in peace, my son. Your sins are forgiven.”
“No atonement?”
“I think your sense of guilt and shame have been punishment enough, but if they continue to plague you, perhaps we could talk again. I’m here, in the confessional every morning. And God is always with you.”
Johnny nodded and slipped out of the confessional.
Wendell waited five minutes before pushing the door open a crack. A man in a monk’s robes lurked in the shadows across the room. He stepped out of the confessional and swiftly strode to the doors of Saint Agnes and barred the entry.
The monk’s hood flipped back and Datello stared at him. “What are the odds that he would show up here?”
Wendell grinned. “I chose this parish because it was once the place Johnny attended regularly when he was a young man. Knowing him as I do –”
Datello’s snort interrupted. “You know Johnny Orion?”
“As a matter of fact, I do. Not only have we met face to face and spoken over the telephone, I’ve been building a dossier on the man since my fortuitous death. Like it or not, Danny, my daughter’s husband truly is one of the good guys, and if you doubt me, let me remind you that your uncle’s dealings with terrorists were exposed because Johnny is a good man.”
“He’s been trying to put me in prison for years,” Datello snarled.
“A misunderstanding, one that we shall count on Helen to rectify, but only if your continued existence is exposed.”
“What makes you think she won’t run straight to him when she finds out I’m still alive?”
Wendell laughed. “You really don’t know Helen at all. How do you think I managed to get out of Attica?”
Danny’s eyebrows rose. “Helen?”
“She got the ball rolling, provided a way out that I and someone who has helped me from the outside for years couldn’t quite manage to plan. And Johnny thought she’d been abducted again because that’s what Helen let him believe. Trust me. She understands that keeping secrets is often necessary. When I convince her that she made a mistake about you, she’ll be helpful.”
“Your daughter isn’t exactly the type of woman to darken the doorway of a church, let alone a confessional,” Datello observed dryly. “Or haven’t you learned that in all of this extensive research of yours? Helen’s pretty vocal about her lack of belief in God.”
“Who do you think taught her to be rational?” Wendell grinned. “Or were you under the misguided belief that I’m qualified to wear this thing?” He tugged at the collar and twisted it off. “But she loves Johnny, and she is pregnant with his sons.”
“Twins,” Datello said. “This just keeps getting better.”
“You have no idea what’s going on in her life right now, but I have a niggling hunch that everything that’s happened since Helen came here is related. This is why the three of us are going to make an unstoppable team, Danny. You do trust me, don’t you?”
“Hell, it’s hard not to. You’ve got as much to lose as I do.”
“And,” Wendell waved one hand in a sweeping gesture, “I have offered you absolute sanctuary here at Saint Agnes. Time, however, is not on our side. It’s only a matter of time before the feds are crawling all over Darkwater Bay looking for you. We have to act fast to bring this issue to resolution, Danny.”
He nodded. “At the same time, they can’t openly scour the city for me without letting everyone, including Uncle Sully know that I’m still alive, still the trump card they plan to play when they charge him with at least a hundred more murders.”
“There will be nothing overt in their search, I promise you. It will be so subtle, we probably won’t even know they’re here. Who was the agent working with you again?”
“Joel Soule. He knows Helen.”
“Good.”
“Is it?”
Wendell nodded. “The last thing he’ll want is for Helen to know he’s here, because if he knows her at all, he’s got to realize that she’ll start asking the right questions about why he’s here. Do you know how he knows her?”
Datello nodded. Guilt leeched into his dark eyes. “He’s the one that took over the case against my uncle after Mark Seleeby got kicked to the curb.”
“Does he think she murdered Rick?”
“Not officially, but I’m afraid after the anesthesia wore off, I gave him an earful of my suspicions.”
“Hmm,” Wendell said. “That does complicate matters. Do you still believe Helen murdered him?”
Datello nodded. “I knew my cousin. At least, I knew him well enough to know he’d never commit suicide. He was terrified of Sully, that he’d be caught passing information back to me. He insisted that we tell my uncle up front who he was to me.”
Wendell’s eyes widened. “You mean Sully didn’t already know that Rick was your cousin?”
“It’s not like we grew up together,” Danny snapped. “My father’s youngest sister got into trouble. Her son was put up for adoption. It took me years to find him. See, she was sent out here when my grandmother realized she was pregnant. I was excited to have another kid around. I was only six when he was born, so it was pretty devastating when he was there, and then gone.”
“Good Christ,” Wendell sighed heavily. “This would’ve been much easier if Sully had never learned the truth. And no wonder the FBI never learned this bit of information when they vetted Helen for service.”
“The adoption was sealed. At least until he died.”
Wendell nodded. “That’s probably how Orion discovered the truth so easily.”
“Johnny knew?”
“Oh yes,” Wendell said. “He learned a great deal about my daughter’s circumstances before they… well, her reticence raised questions.”
“She came out here to kill me, didn’t she?”
“I don’t know,” Wendell answered honestly. “I’d imagine it’s safe to assume th
at your feelings for her weren’t exactly unrequited, Danny. It’s all in the past now. She’s very reasonable. She’ll see that you were used as a scapegoat because of your connection to Sully Marcos, if she hasn’t figured it out already.”
“Why don’t you just call her and get this meeting over with? If time is so urgent, why are we wasting it camped out in this church with you spending every morning listening to the confessions of little old ladies?”
“My post here is temporary. It’s also been useful.”
“What did Orion tell you this morning?”
“That’s private,” Wendell’s voice grew stern. “But you’re right. The sooner Helen is up to speed on what needs to happen, the better.”
Chapter 11
I woke with a start. Johnny was perched on the side of the bed watching me.
“You’re back.”
He smiled. “I am.”
I reached for his hand and nestled it against my belly. “I think they woke me up. Not on my bladder this time. Where were you all morning?”
“Clearing out some space at the bungalow in Downey. Crevan and Alex are in dire need of a little respite from his mother.”
I cringed. Our mother. Would she suddenly start showing up here, hounding me to build a relationship with her without Crevan’s constant supervision?
“She knows better than to come here, Helen. I promise.”
“That obvious, huh?”
“More than obvious. I had the same concern, which was why I stopped by the penthouse before I came home and explained to her that we’re still concerned with the friendship between Lyle Henderson and her husband, and that it’s really best for everyone if she continues to maintain her distance. I think I got a little more insight into why Crevan in particular needs some space where she’s concerned.”
“Do I want to know? Let me guess. She’s replaced that king sized bed in the master bedroom with twin beds, no bunk beds so Alex and Crevan aren’t actually sleeping together anymore.”
Johnny chuckled. “No, but when Aidan threatened to cut off her monthly allowance, Alex explained the laws of community property, and that she’s entitled to half of every dime of interest the family fortune has accumulated in over forty years. He recommended a good divorce lawyer, which sort of freaked Crevan out.”
