In Desperation

“It is what I am.”

“Do you wish to confess?”

“I wish to negotiate.”

“What is there to negotiate?”

“Recently, police have found two bodies in a barn on a ranch south of Juarez.”

The priest was aware, having read a news story.

“That is my most recent job.”

“Confess. Surrender. I will help you turn yourself in.”

“I have searched for you because you are known to have reached out to narcos. You are respected among the narcotraficantes, some of whom would enjoy seeing you in your grave.”

“If it is God’s will.”

“Today, I am as close to God as you will ever get without dying. I have killed nearly two hundred people. I am the last thing they saw before death. There has never been anyone like me and there never will be anyone like me.”

“What is it you want to negotiate?”

“I am haunted by the ghosts of people I have killed. They torment me, telling me that rival sicarios are coming to kill me and that because of my sins, I will not be permitted to enter heaven, that I am doomed to burn eternally in hell unless I do something about it.”

“Change your ways and surrender.”

“I want to walk away from this life.”

“Then do it. Confess to police now, call the press to report it for history.”

“I need to walk away according to my terms.”

“What are your terms?”

“I will quit the sicario way, but first I must finish one final cartel job in a few days. I will be paid a lot of money for this. I will give half of the money to this church, your church of Lagos de Rosas, for this pitiful stain of a village. Think of all the good you could do. A new school, or clinic? In exchange you will absolve me of my sins so that I will gain entry to heaven. That is my deal.”

“Entry to heaven is not purchased with blood money. The way to heaven is truth.”

“I have told you the truth. Help me.” Silence passed and the young man repeated, “Help me. I cannot sleep. I am tortured by the dead.”

“Turn yourself in.”

“You must absolve me.”

“I can’t.”

“As a priest, you are bound by your oath to God.

Absolve me.”

“You are not truly repentant. You are a frightened braggart. There can be no benediction.”

A tense moment passed.

Then Father Ortero felt movement before the curtain whisked in the adjoining box. He leaned forward in his confessional seat, parted his own curtain to see a shadow exiting the empty church.

Flames of the votive candles trembled in the air that trailed its passing.

24

Los Angeles, California

The airline agent behind the ticket counter grasped that Gannon needed to be on the next flight to Las Vegas.

“You said one way?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing to check in?” Her keyboard clacked.

“Nothing.”

A printer hummed, then she handed him his boarding pass. “Your flight boards in twenty minutes. The security lines are good. You should make it.” She reached for a walkie-talkie. “I’ll alert the gate agent.”

“Thanks.”

After trotting though Terminal One at LAX and clearing passenger screening, Gannon arrived at his gate, where the agent there confirmed his pass and seat.

“Thank you, sir. We’ll commence preboarding in ten minutes.”

Gannon used the time to call Cora on her cell phone in Phoenix.

“Hello.”

“It’s Jack. Are you free to talk?” But it didn’t matter if Hackett was near her, he could not hold off pushing her for more information.

“Yes.”

“Ivan Peck says he is not Tilly’s father.”

“He’s lying.”

“He says he can’t father children.”

“He’s lying.”

“What proof do you have?”

“He was the only man who…the only one who…”

“Just tell me the truth, Cora!” Heads snapped in his direction; people stared at Gannon. He moved to a private area and dropped his voice. “He said you weren’t waitressing in North Hollywood.” He paused. “Cora, he said you were a hooker.”

As the word hung there, he heard her break over the line and it tore him up inside. He clenched his eyes as memories pulled him back to Buffalo, to when they were just kids. It was his bedtime. Mom and Dad were working extra shifts. He’d taken his bath, gotten into his pajamas, combed his hair, brushed his teeth. Now Cora was reading Paddle-to-the-Sea to him, the part where the forest was burning and flames covered the entire page. Everything was on fire. And now here he was standing in LAX, swallowing bile because his sister, his big sister whom he’d worshipped, had been a prostitute.

Even with his eyes shut, everything was on fire.

Cora was crying now.

“It’s all right,” he said. “Just tell me the truth. Tell me how you are certain he is Tilly’s father.”

“He refused to use protection. He paid double. He was the only one. I was an addict, Jack. I needed money to survive. I was in hell. I was messed up. You could never understand how much shame I felt, why I could never go home again.”

Gannon searched the preboarding area in vain, looking for the right words.

After a moment, Cora found a measure of composure and continued.

“Peck is Tilly’s father. Damn it, did you not see the resemblance?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know. Look, he gave me a lead, so I came here, straight to LAX.”

“A lead?” Hope rose in her voice. “What is it?”

“A guy you used to know. He’s in Las Vegas now.”

“Who?”

“Vic Lomax.”

“Lomax. No. No, Jack!”

“Listen, Cora, I realize Peck may have been feeding me bullshit. I know this is a long shot but he said Lomax was tied to cartels. He might get us closer to people who have Tilly.”

The gate agent announced the first boarding call for his flight over the public address.

“Are you flying to Las Vegas now?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t. I’m begging you to stay away from Lomax.”