by McLean, Jay
The manpower that’s been brought in for the raids is the most the state had seen in years, coming from all districts, across all departments. A lot of members of law enforcement coming voluntarily.
And now it’s Go Time, a moment we’ve been waiting on for weeks. It’s three o’clock in the morning, and the world outside is quiet. Inside the warehouse, it’s non-stop hustle and bustle. Orders are being thrown, while other communication is made through radios. Agent Perceval and Brent are at the last known location for Perceval’s daughter, Lauren. Tiny and I are set up with an iPad that streams video directly from Perceval’s body cam.
We can hear everything.
See everything.
“I’m nervous,” I tell Tiny, wringing my hands together.
“Don’t be.” He throws an arm around my shoulders. “They’re trained for this. They know what they’re doing.”
On the camera, Jackson approaches the agents. “We have the whole perimeter surrounded.”
Perceval looks at his watch. “Perfect.” Then, into the radio, he says, “Two minutes.”
My knees are bouncing now, and I feel the panic rise, the anxious energy pulsing through my veins.
“Nate would’ve loved this,” Tiny says, holding me to him. “He wouldn’t have said it aloud, and his face wouldn’t give it away, but inside… taking down this kind of bad guy… holy shit.”
I smile at him. “Yeah, he would’ve.”
The two minutes fly by, and the next thing I know, Perceval’s at the front door of the house, giving orders for SWAT to break it down. And then comes the yelling, so loud and so familiar.
“Put your hands up!”
“Hands where I can see them!”
“On your stomach!”
“Face down on the ground!”
I fight the urge to cover my ears, but I can’t stop watching the screen. There are people everywhere in that house, but law enforcement make up the majority of them. Perceval’s shouting orders, his weapon raised in front of him. He’s kicking down doors, going from room to room, Brent right by his side. And he’s shouting, his voice cracking when he calls, “Lauren! Lauren!”
I hug myself, rocking back and forth as I watch. “Please, please, please be there,” I whisper.
Another door, another room. There are three girls in this one, barely dressed, all huddled together in the corner. My heart cracks.
None of the girls are Lauren.
“Jesus Christ,” Tiny mutters.
And then, through the camera comes a sound that brings instant tears to my eyes. “Dad!”
Perceval backs out of the room and into the hallway, and then it’s just darkness and static as she runs up to him, falling into his arms. They hug each other, won’t let go. “I’m so sorry, baby girl,” Perceval cries.
“I knew you’d come for me, Daddy. I just knew it!”
I’m a mess. A sobbing emotional mess, and even though Tiny will never admit it, he is, too. I wipe my tears with my sleeve, and he coughs, says there’s something in his eyes when he reaches for a box of tissues.
In the warehouse, an agent marks off each location on a map once the houses are cleared. It takes six hours to mark off every single one.
From here, the victims will go to the hospital to be checked. The suspects will go to the police station.
But, there’s one suspect who hasn’t been captured: Dante Franco.
“We’ll get him,” Brent tells me when he returns from the raid. “He can’t go far. There’s a nationwide APB on him.”
I nod. “Is Lauren okay?”
“Physically, yes,” he says through a smile. “Perceval’s not going to leave her side for a while.”
“That’s understandable. And you? Are you okay?”
He crosses his arms, leans against the desk. “I don’t know. There were a lot of girls, Bailey. But even then, we only got maybe seventy percent of the missing girls on our wall. Where the hell are the other thirty?”
“Brent!” I snap, grasping his shoulders and shaking him. “You can’t look at it like that. You have seventy percent of those girls that you didn’t have yesterday.”
He licks his lips, his eyes on mine. “I get that,” he says, looking around the room. “But all these people are celebrating as if it’s a victory, and I can’t do that. It feels wrong.”
“So… do something about it,” I challenge.
His smile is weak. “Oh, I plan to.” Then he leans forward, his mouth pressed to my forehead. “Project Bailey. For the lost and forgotten.”
Saying that I feel beat would be an understatement. Tiny and I are so exhausted, he can barely chew his food. We’re at the fast-food restaurant Nate took me to the first night he asked me to go with him. Apparently, it’s Tiny’s favorite place in the world.
“I don’t know how those feds do it, man. And those cops… workin’ that hard all the dang time,” Tiny mumbles. “I can’t even feel my face.” He slaps his cheek. “Oh, no. I can feel it.”
“It’s pretty exciting, though,” I reply, setting my bag of food by my feet. I’m not really hungry, and besides, my stomach is in knots because I’ve wanted to talk to Tiny about something, but I wanted to wait until the raids were done. I could probably hold off until tomorrow, but I don’t see the point.
Spinning the ring around my finger, I take in a deep breath, and just… let it out. “So… Nate left me a note.”
“Oh yeah?”
“It was in his nightstand drawer, along with this,” I say, lifting my hand between us.
He offers a sad smile.
“It was just an address. Some place in New York.”
His grin widens. “Weird. I got the same one. I didn’t get a ring, though.”
I laugh at that.
“Have you gone?” Tiny asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “You?”
He answers the same. “I looked it up, though. It’s his Uncle Ezio’s church.”
I push down the lump in my throat. “Oh.”
He finishes his food, and with his forearm resting on the steering wheel, he turns his entire body to face me. “Do you think you’re going to go?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m kind of scared of what it means.”
“Yeah, I feel that.”
We stare at each other, our smiles growing with each passing second.
I say, “Maybe it would help if we go together?”
He grins from ear to ear. “Yeah, I’d that like a lot, Bai.”
Chapter 57
“You ever been to church before?” Tiny asks, his head tilted back to take in the grand architecture of the building.
“Only when they opened up the soup kitchen,” I tell him.
He looks down at me, his eyebrow quirked as he offers his elbow. “Shall we?”
I blow out a breath as I curl my hand around his arm. “We shall.”
* * *
The church is dark, empty, and every one of our steps echoes off the walls. “Maybe we should have called first,” I whisper.
A teenage boy pops up from between the pews, and Tiny damn near jumps out of his skin. “Didn’t mean to scare you,” the kid laughs out. “Are you here to see Father Gallo?” He looks at his watch. “It’s outside his hours.”
“Oh, okay,” I mumble.
“When are his hours?” Tiny asks.
Before the kid can respond, a voice booms from… somewhere. “Is that you, Tiny?”
Tiny looks up. “Is that you, God?”
I elbow his stomach.
On the far right of the building, an older man appears dressed in all black, bar a small white rectangle at the front of his collar. “Jamie!” he calls out, and the boy runs over to him. Father Gallo hands him some cash, his words too low for me to make out. And then the kid’s off again, running past us with a giant smile and a wave.
“You just gonna stand there?” Father Gallo bellows. “Come on!”
Tiny and I shuffle toward him, and then through his
open door. It’s clear that we’re in his office now, and the second he closes the door after him, my panic begins. I have nothing to worry about; I’m sure of it. And I’m not scared of a priest. I’m just— I’m afraid of what he has to say.
“Sit, sit,” he orders, and Tiny and I take up the chairs on one side of his desk. I never let go of him.
Father Gallo sits in his chair, his forearms on the desk, hands folded together. He looks between Tiny and me—his dark eyes so much like Nathaniel’s. He pauses on Tiny. “You good?”
“Yeah,” Tiny replies. “I’m getting through it. One day at a time, you know.”
“It’s a hard loss, I understand, but Nathaniel would hate for you to suffer for long.”
Tiny nods.
“And you,” Father Gallo says, his gaze settling on me. My nerves have me looking up at Tiny for comfort. “You’re more beautiful than Nathaniel described you.”
My cheeks heat when I meet his stare. “Thank you.”
“Damn, girl as pretty as you—you make me question my life’s work.”
A nervous giggle bursts from my chest.
Father Gallo settles back in his seat, his hands resting on his stomach. “You took your sweet time, but it’s nice to see you both here, together. That’s exactly how he would’ve wanted it. It’s kind of poetic when you think about it. His best friend, his love. You join me here today because of him.”
I clear my throat. “It’s an honor to meet you, Father, but… we don’t really know why we’re here. He gave us this address and no other information.”
“Ah,” he breathes out, stretching his arms in the air. “That’s why I’m here. To give you the information.” Not getting up from his seat, he rolls his chair toward a cabinet in the corner of the room, pulls out a plastic bag, then wheels himself back. He peers inside the bag, takes out an envelope. “For you,” he says, handing it to me. “Go ahead, open it.”
“Right now?”
He nods.
I rip into the envelope and pull out a note—handwritten.
Mia Bella Ragazza…
I choke on a gasp, my tears quick to come. My hands shake, and again, I look to Tiny for comfort. His gentle touch on my shoulder relieves only some of the pain. Father Gallo gets to his feet, rounds the desk until he’s squatting down next to me. He takes my free hand in his. “Go ahead,” he encourages. “He wrote it for you.”
A shuddering breath leaves me, and I square my shoulders, blink back the liquid heartache as I read line by line, my mouth parting wider the more I read, the more I realize the depth of his love for me. “He found her,” I whisper, looking at Tiny through endless tears. “He found my mother.”
His eyes widen. “Your birth mother?”
“No, the one who raised me. Nate found her, and he contacted her. He told her all about me and everything I’ve…” I choke on a sob. “She had no idea, and she’s… she’s so sorry for leaving me. She wants me to live with her and her family in Canada.”
“That’s good, right?” Tiny asks.
I can’t speak through the giant knot in my throat, so I nod instead. My mind spins, my heart filled with too many emotions I can’t control them. I grasp Nate’s letter to my chest, the last thing he’ll ever give me, and I give myself another moment to cry, to grieve. Then I look at Father Gallo. “I love him, your nephew. I love him, and I never told him this time around… I never said it, and I’m sorry.”
“He knew, Bailey,” he says, squeezing my hand. “In here”—he points to his heart—“deep, deep down—he knew.”
I cry into my hands, loud, unrestrained cries that fill the room.
“Nathaniel lived a complicated life. He lost both parents so young, and he struggled to find happiness in everyday things…” Father Gallo says, standing up. He moves behind his desk again, pulls out a large box wrapped in newspaper from the bag. “But he found happiness in the things that mattered, in the relationships he would grasp on to forever. In you, Tiny. His mother once told me that he always wanted a little brother.” He smiles while Tiny sniffs back his emotions. “You—you’re not so little, but you get my point, right?”
I half cry, half giggle while Tiny takes the box from him. Unlike me, he doesn’t hesitate to rip it open. It’s a world globe, and Tiny chuckles, then mumbles, “This motherfucker...”
I gasp, look across the desk at Father Gallo.
“Watch your fuckin’ mouth in my church,” he says. He eyes the ceiling, mutters, “Jesus Christ, these kids” while making the sign of the cross with his hand.
“A globe?” I ask after a snicker.
Tiny faces me. “When Nate asked me what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, I told him everything. My dreams. My plans for the future.” He smiles at the memory. “I told him I wanted to get a globe and spin it and wherever my finger landed… that’s where I wanted to go.”
Through all my emotions, my excitement for Tiny takes first place. “Spin it!” I say, grasping his arm.
His eyebrows lift. “Yeah?”
“Yes!”
Tiny spins the globe, around and around, his finger pointed in the air. And then he pushes forward, skimming the plastic until it finally stops. I hold my breath, move in at the same time Tiny does. “Australia?” I squeak.
Tiny’s grin takes up his entire face. “Looks like I’m moving down undah!” He chuckles, his chest bouncing with the force.
“Hmm,” Father Gallo says, his smile matching ours. “Well, if that’s your plan, it seems like there’s only one more thing you need.” He opens his desk drawer, spends a few seconds there before pulling out two passports. He slides one to each of us.
“No,” I whisper, opening mine to the photo page. Right there is a picture of me, next to the name: Bailey Anne Wright. “It was important to him that you have your true identity back. You’ll always be Bailey to him. You’ll always be the girl who set peace to the world around him.”
My gaze drops as I take in his words.
“He also set up a bank account for you both. There’s more than enough money to set you up for life.”
“No,” I whisper again in disbelief.
“He didn’t want you to worry about anything ever again.”
I stare at the passport, and an endless literal world of possibilities stare back at me.
Father Gallo opens his drawer again, pulls out four shot glasses and places one in front of each of us, and one in the middle. He pours whiskey in all four, then raises his glass. “To Nathaniel,” he cheers. “May his heart finally beat with ease.”
Chapter 58
“You’ve been busy the last few weeks,” Dr. Aroma says, smiling over at me. “How are you?”
“I’ve been… through a myriad of emotions,” I respond, my fingers linked, thumbs circling each other. “I’ve had the lowest of lows and the highest of highs, and I think I’m just now getting back to normal. Back to reality, really.”
Dr. Aroma nods. “Do you want to start with the lows?”
I pause a beat, try to gather my thoughts. “I lost someone incredibly important to me. Well, two people, really.”
“I’m sorry, Bailey.” She frowns. “How are you coping?”
“I didn’t at first,” I tell her truthfully. “I kind of… I lost it.”
She shrugs. “That’s understandable.”
I suck in a breath, hold it, then release the words I’ve been flipping in my mind. “You know, this whole thing, this case… it’s caused so much irreparable damage, and there are so many people left destroyed in its wake. I mean, I reconnected with someone from my past, someone I loved, and that—that was heartbreaking in the most beautiful way.” I stare off into the distance, feeling the tears forming. “And I found a new love so unexpectedly, and that love opened my heart to the world. It made me see that there was more to life than the black and white that was set out for me. I see the world in color now. I see its beauty from the earth all the way to the sky above us. And I think the most rewarding thing I ga
ined through all of this is that I see the beauty in me.” I sniff once, my emotions getting the best of me. “And you know what the most beautiful thing is?”
“Tell me,” she encourages.
“It’s that regardless of how destroyed we all are, how damaged our actions have left us… our world fell apart right in front of our eyes, crumbled to ashes, and yet we stand. As survivors, we stand hand in hand, and we rise. We rise from the ashes because we have a purpose. And that purpose might be something so simple as making someone smile or showing someone color or hugging someone because you know they need it. Or that purpose could be bigger than ourselves, bigger than we ever expected.”
Dr. Aroma stares at me, her eyes conveying a depth of emotion I hadn’t yet seen in her. “I’m so proud of you, Bailey, and I’m honored that I got to witness your growth first-hand. Your strength and determination are inspiring.”
Heat forms in my cheeks. “Thank you.”
She finishes taking notes, then dumps her notepad and pen in her bag. Then she sits taller, her hands clasped, her smile unrestrained. “So, what are you going to do now that you’re a free woman?”
My cheeks puff with the force of my exhale. “I have some decisions to make.”
“Would you like to go through them with me? We can talk them out if you’re struggling.”
With a nod, I tell her, “Option A: I can stay here. I’ve been given a second chance with someone… someone I’ve grown to love. He’s on vacation at the moment, but he’ll be back soon, and he said he’d like to try again. Without the case hovering over me and his… commitment, I guess, to his brother, we could really go somewhere, I think.”
“That’s good, right?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“And option B?”
I release the tension in my shoulders. “Option B: I move to Canada.”
“Canada?” she asks, lines forming in her brow. “What’s in Canada?”
“My stepmom,” I reply. “She’s the only one in my life I remember showing me true love.”
