Deadly Blessings (38 page)

“
A clean slate? Yeah.
That’s exactly what I’m offering,” I said. The fact that he seemed
willing to talk now, encouraged me. “A new beginning. And,” I
smiled, bold enough now to make a joke, “you know what they say
about confession being good for the soul. Why don’t you let me in
on all of it? It’ll make you feel better.”

He nodded. “Now that we’re alone,” Bruno
said, sitting up, “I do have a few things I can tell you.” He
stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and leaned forward on his
forearms, his voice low.

I moved forward, mirroring his position,
bringing my head down near his, to hear, and, more importantly, to
bring my chest near enough to his voice so that the microphone
wouldn’t miss any word of it. “Good,” I said, attempting to keep my
excitement level under control. About time.

He stared down at my chest again for several
seconds, then he smiled as his eyes met mine.

“
You’re right, on several
counts.”

“
I am?”

“
Yes, of course.” He tilted
his head. “You seem surprised.”

My mouth opened but no words popped out. His
admission came too fast. I blinked, then asked, “So, you’re telling
me that you recruit young people from poor villages in Poland—”

He interrupted. “And other places as
well.”

I hated the tiny stammer in my voice as I
continued, “Okay. You recruit these girls and bring them to Lisa.
She puts them to work as prostitutes. And what, she pays you?
Offers you a percentage?”

Bruno’s eyes glittered. Amusement, again.
But he didn’t answer.

“
How,” I asked, “How does a
priest get involved in this sort of scheme?” I sat back a little—it
was an involuntary movement, but one that took the microphone
further away. Remembering, I scooted forward again and shook my
head, instead. “This goes against everything the church teaches.
Everything the church stands for. I can’t understand how a man
who’s taken religious vows can be involved in such. … such … vile
activities.”

“
Ah, Alex. I told you once
that you weren’t looking at it the right way.”

The stammer in my voice was gone. Anger
bubbled up in my chest, and I worried for a moment that my
heartbeat would drown out our conversation on the tape. “There is
no other way.”

“
Yes,
there is.” He pushed the folder closer toward me again. “And so,
here we are.
Tabula
rasa
. I have fulfilled my part of the
bargain, have I not?”

I looked down at the slim manila file under
his splayed fingers. Tiny bits of whitened skin brightened his
knuckles, making them stand out on his reddened hand. Tension. He
pressed down harder than I would have thought necessary.

“
I guess you have,” I said.
I tried to slide the file out from beneath his pressed hand, but he
held fast. “And now I’ll take this and be on my way.” Maybe it
would be enough. I couldn’t wait to hear the tape. I thought of
Jeff outside. And I hoped he’d gotten it all.

Giving me a peculiar look, Bruno lifted his
hand straight up, allowing it to hover for a second over the
folder. “Be my guest,” he said.

“
Thanks.” In one motion,
I’d stood up, pulled the folder to my chest and grabbed my coat
from the back of the chair. Sliding my arm through the sleeves, I
headed for the door.

“
Why don’t you open the
file now? Read it before you leave?”

I hesitated. “You said it was mine to
keep.”

“
I did.”

“
Then I’ll read it at
home.” I shot him an insincere smile and began moving
again.

“
Alex,” he said.

I turned.

“
Open it now.”

I gave him a withering glance, as though he
was a fool to doubt my intentions. “Why?”

“
Because I want to see the
look on your face,” he said with a grin. “I enjoy it when things
come together as well as they have today. I revel in
it.”

“
Thanks, but I’ll
wait.”

His smile faded. “Humor me,” he said.

My conscience prickled with the thought that
I had just made a deal—given my word. I promised that if I got my
adoption information, I’d hold back on the prostitution story. The
folder felt tingly in my hands. I had no intention to look inside.
In my own convoluted logic, that allowed me to continue my
investigation without sacrificing my ethics.

Facing Bruno now, I had to reassess. His
calm demeanor belied anger deep inside. I could almost see it
simmering out of him. He doubted my sincerity. With good reason, I
might add. But the fact remained that I needed to prove my good
intentions.

“
Fine,” I said. I promised
myself I wouldn’t really read the information. That I would focus
on something other than the information that tempted me more than
anything else in the world. I faltered a moment, knowing how much I
wanted this information, trying to rationalize a way for me to have
my information and nail Bruno, too.

With a short sigh, as though impatient to
get moving, I opened the file.

A blank page stared up at me.

I looked at Bruno. “What is this?”

“
I guess
you could call it my version of
tabula rasa
,” he said. “A blank
slate.”

“
I don’t
understand.”

“
Yes, you do.”

Beads of perspiration burst out from under
my arms, and down my back leaving trails of sweat that suffered
immediate chill, despite being covered by my big down jacket.

“
No,” I said, unable to
come up with a better response. “I don’t.”

“
I know.”

“
You know … ?” I asked.
“What?”

“
I know why you’re
here.”

The room became close all of a sudden. From
the look in his eyes I knew he didn’t mean for the supposed trade.
I was momentarily speechless.

“
Give me your
recorder.”

“
Excuse me?”

“
Don’t play coy, Alex,” he
said. “You’re not good at it.”

I moved, bumping the chair, the sound of the
heavy wooden seat sliding against the tile, too loud in the small
room. How did he know about the recorder? Or could it be just a
lucky guess? Bluff time, I thought. This meeting had gone way off
track, and I knew there was no redeeming it. Not at this point.

“
I thought we were here for
a trade,” I said, keeping my voice even. “You obviously have some
other agenda going on. And I don’t need to be part of
it.”

“
Sit down.”

“
Sorry,” I said, moving
again toward the door. “Give me a call when you’re ready to do
business. This has been a waste of my time.”

All I could think of was getting the hell
out before Ro came back.

“
Aren’t you the least bit
curious?” he asked, as my hand grabbed the inner
doorknob.

I turned. “About what?”

“
About how I knew you were
planning to tape our conversation?”

I had enough. Time to go. I thought about
Rico and his buddies outside. Which was the frying pan and which
the fire? I wondered. I’d take my chances and beat a path to the
car. And I still had Jeff as a backup. If worse came to worse, he
could call for help.

I jerked the door open and was immediately
halted in my tracks. Sophie, her bright blue eyes wet, and
surrounded by circles of red welts, stood before me, blocking my
path. Ro loomed behind her, giving her a shove that brought me back
into the room, stumbling backwards.

I flashed my attention towards Bruno. He
hadn’t moved; his large arms still rested on the table, he watched
me with interest from his chair. He’d lit another cigarette and
puffed on it, the picture of relaxation. He oozed serenity. Of
course. He held the cards now.

I’d been a fool.

“
Now that’s loyalty, Alex,”
Bruno said. “My dear child, Sophie, came to visit me this morning
at my parish, so convinced of my innocence, so willing to protect
me, that it took almost no effort to pull details of your plan out
of her.”

She’d been crying quietly, with soft ragged
pulls of breath, but when Bruno spoke, she began to blubber in
earnest, sobbing out an apology. Till Ro clamped a big hand around
her mouth.

“
One more yelp out of you
and I’ll off you right here. Understand?”

Her bright blue eyes widened over the edge
of his calloused hand. She nodded, and when he let go, she
hiccupped softly, her gaze flicking in fear toward the gorilla-man
with every inadvertent sound she made.

Bruno pulled himself upright.

“
You thought you were so
clever, didn’t you? I warned you, didn’t I? You could have taken
the information …” he tapped the folder again, “… the real
information—when I offered it. Taken it freely and lived a long
happy life in the company of both your families. But you couldn’t
walk away, could you?”

I’d expected to be right about Bruno. I’d
expected him to play into my hands just like bad guys do in books
and movies. To give me Lisa’s head on the proverbial silver
platter, just because I asked nicely. But I wasn’t any type of
private investigator, and I’d blown it. The elation I hoped for
when this story broke seemed almost a childish dream, an
expectation that because I wished it, it would be so.

“
There are too many people
who knew I was coming here,” I said, conjuring up as much boldness
as I could manage. Hearing the tiny tremor in my voice. “I was the
voyager.”

“
What?” he said, his face
twisting into a puzzled frown.

“
Voyager” had been our
emergency word for the no-tell motel stakeout last night. I never
thought to come up with a new one for today, so smug with my own
cleverness. So sure that everything would go just as I intended it.
But all of a sudden the water swirled over my head. I was in too
deep to get myself out. “Voyager,” I said again, more clearly this
time, and louder. “I’m the one who ventured out here. But lots of
people know about it. It would be a mistake to hurt us.”

“
Don’t worry,” he said.
“There’s a plan.”

“
What about the priest from
this parish? Doesn’t he know we’re here? Won’t that raise
questions?”

“
He’s on vacation, as a
matter of fact,” Bruno said, a grin starting, his wide, full lips
spreading to reveal tobacco-stained teeth. “Left me to look after
the congregation in his absence,” Bruno said standing now, his gaze
flicking over my head again. “Rodero?”

“
Yes, sir?”

“
Perhaps you’ll relieve our
reporter friend here of her recording device.”

Ro leered, stepping around Sophie reaching
for me. I moved back, grabbing my purse.

“
Okay,” I said, “don’t
touch me.” I pulled my handheld tape recorder out from the side
pocket. “There. You happy?”

Bruno picked it up, pressed a few buttons
and we all heard a playback of the last several seconds
conversation. Nice and clear. He handed it to Ro, who smashed it in
half against the corner countertop.

“
Did you really think such
a crude attempt to trap me would work?” Bruno asked, shaking his
head, smiling in a way that made me want to tear at his face. He
made a “tsking” noise, then turned back to Ro. “Now let’s make sure
she isn’t carrying any other surprises.”

Ro came at me, wearing the first grin I’d
ever seen on his bruiser face. I dodged around the chair, keeping
it between us.

Bruno made the “tsking” noise again.

Anytime now,
Jeff
.

Ro made a move to his left. Reacting, I
ducked to his right, but he’d faked me out. He nabbed my arm almost
effortlessly, dragging me past the chair, which toppled to the
ground with a wooden clatter. Tight, in a vice-grip, I felt the
squeeze of his fingers into the fleshy part of my upper arm, but I
bit my lip rather than cry out.

Holding me high enough that I had to stand
on tip-toe, he used his left hand to roam. I tried to distance
myself from his thorough search, his rough groping. I squirmed,
keeping my eyes averted, fighting hot stinging tears of frustration
as his big hands explored, squeezed, and wandered. “There are parts
of this job I really enjoy,” he whispered, close to my ear.

Like a trapped animal, I fought, my arms and
legs flailing out, scratching, kicking, screaming. But with my
every movement, his grip got tighter, his behavior more cruel,
until he swung me out, crack-the-whip style, throwing me tumbling
backwards over the fallen chair.

I started to scramble up, but Ro grabbed me
again. The right side of my face caught the edge of the table as he
pulled me roughly to my feet. My flesh scraped against the metal
corner and I winced at both the sound of ripping skin, and the
searing pain that followed almost immediately. Warmth poured out
from a gash on my cheek. I reached to touch the tender area, but Ro
pinned my arms.

He held me close enough that I felt his hot
breath on my neck. My fighting had no effect on the steadiness of
his breathing and I had no hope against him. I clenched my teeth,
enduring violation like I’d never known before, watching long
viscous drops of my blood leak to the floor.

When his hands fumbled at my breasts again,
all I could do was hope that the microphone’s miniscule size would
prevent its detection. “Okay. Enough already,” I said, fighting
harder, trying to keep his fingers from exploring beneath my
clothes. “How many times you need to check the same place?”