No One Left To Tell

'I never called you that.' She shrugged. 'I thought it, maybe—'

She wanted to keep him talking, fearing she might not hear his voice again. Every moment with Christian felt precious—a gift.

'Raven?' He squeezed her hand, straining to stay alert. But he was fading fast.

'I'm here, Christian.' She touched his cheek. 'I'm not going anywhere.'

He stared blankly ahead, as if he couldn't see her.

'Want you to know, if s-something should h-happen. I'd do it again. No regrets. I love—' Slowly, his eyes fluttered closed, his head leaned to one side.

Raven held her breath, letting his sweet words wash over her like a cleansing rain. She ran a finger across his lips, then repositioned the oxygen mask.

With Christian passed out, she turned to the grim-faced ambulance attendant, trying to hide her fear. 'What's our ETA?'

Lakefront Memorial

Downtown Chicago

Raven paced the waiting room, bleary-eyed with the late hour. The surgery was taking longer than expected. Christian had been out of her sight more than four hours with no word on his condition. As ominous as that sounded, at least he was still alive. In her mind, no news was good news. Yet for her, time became a boundless chasm, one without a beginning or an end. Images came and went, her perception clouded by a suffocating fear.

Would she ever see Christian again?

Her thoughts turned to Fiona. In the ER, a nurse took what little patient history she knew of him, then asked a very simple question. 'Is there anyone we can call? Now would be a good time to contact next of kin.'

Closing her eyes briefly, Raven filled her lungs to garner strength. 'No. He has no one—not anymore.'

The nurse left after a curt nod, the door hissing as it closed behind her. Now, the empty waiting room echoed Fiona's betrayal. Alone to endure the vigil,

Raven slumped into a chair. She had no idea how to contact the woman. Did Fiona love her son enough to come forward, risking possible arrest for the murder of her husband? Her involvement in the death of Charles Dunhill might never be discovered, but Raven vowed to uncover the truth, especially if Christian—

She pushed the thought from her brain.

Her mind waged war against the thought of living her future without him. Hell! Who was she kidding? Her life began the day they first met. He awakened something in her, something she had never felt before. As she leaned her head back against the wall, tears filled her eyes. She gazed up at the clock as it squandered precious minutes, struggling to keep her eyes open. Shutting them only reminded her of the ordeal she'd barely survived.

A motion to her right caught her attention. The waiting room door opened. As Raven turned, a friendly face greeted her.

'How is he, Detective?'

'Father Antonio, please sit.' She laid her bandaged hand on the chair next to her, forcing a weary smile. 'He's still in surgery. Are you okay?'

'Yes, thanks to Mr. Delacorte. I owe him my life.'

'Yes. I just hope—' She closed her eyes, demanding her brain to focus on the positive. He was still alive, still in surgery.

'God does work in mysterious ways.' The priest reached for her uninjured hand, tugging at it affectionately.

'Yes, I've heard that said a lot lately.' She smiled.

'I know it's a cliche, but so true. God had brought your friend to my door on many occasions. I used to be afraid, perhaps intimidated by your Mr. Delacorte. Something in his eyes scared me, like death found refuge in him. But after what he did for us both, I can no longer believe that. I owe him everything. I just hope I get a chance to tell him how I feel.'

'He knows, Father.'

'No, you don't understand, most likely because I'm rambling.' The priest glanced down at her hand as he held it, closing his eyes for a moment. He took another breath, then spoke softly. 'In that room, in the dark, when I was by myself—I could do nothing but think. And I have to admit, I wasn't ready to die. I have never been so scared.'

He looked up and found her eyes. 'But when you came, I found the courage to hope. You could have left me behind, but you didn't. I will always be grateful to you for that.'

'Father, you don't have to—'

Father Antonio raised his hand to stop her. 'Please let me finish. I need to say this, to fully grasp it myself.' With a blank stare, he gathered his thoughts. 'When your friend offered his life in place of ours, I have never seen such sacrifice—except in the Bible, of course. It gave me courage to face my own fear. In that moment, I felt a deeper connection to Christ. And I wasn't afraid anymore. I was ready to die.'

Raven understood the man's epiphany, and she had one of her own. 'And when I saw what Christian had been willing to sacrifice, it had the opposite effect on me. I just wanted to live.' She patted the back of his hand and crooked her lips in a smile. 'I love him so much, Father.'

An odd sensation came over her. Just a short time ago, Christian had been a complete stranger. Yet now, she felt like she'd known him for a lifetime. He had risked everything to save her. Raven knew all she needed to know about the man she loved beyond all reason.

The priest's voice drew her back. 'I think after all we've been through together, you can call me Antonio.' A shy grin warmed his face.

'And you can call me Raven. I hope this is the start of a beautiful friendship, Antonio.'

'With such an auspicious beginning, how can it not?' His smile was fleeting. 'Do you mind if I pray for your friend?'

His simple request took a moment to sink in. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she nodded. She had no words for how she felt. Praying for Christian felt more like last rites. The finality of it scared her. Yet having Antonio by her side gave comfort all the same, a strange contradiction.

Raven watched the priest mouth the words. The meaning clouded her mind. His familiar mantra soothed her, but an unsettling feeling of dread lurked beneath the surface of his kindness. A tear lost its grip and dropped to her cheek.

She closed her eyes to shake the feeling, but a noise drew her attention. Raven turned her head toward the sound. As if in slow motion, the waiting room door opened once more. A man dressed in faded green stepped into the room.

Raven swallowed hard. Expectation took its toll. Her heart punished her eardrums. A rapid incessant beat. She gazed upon the doleful expression of a surgeon, his eyes depleted and unreadable.

'Oh, please—NO,' she cried, her voice drained of faith. She gripped the hand of the priest. 'Antonio, I can't do this. I just can't—'

CHAPTER 19

St. Sebastian's Chapel

Five Months Later

Raven pulled the coat tighter around her neck as she walked, fending off the lingering chill in the morning air. The ground gave way with each step, still saturated from the runoff of melting snow. As blades of brown grass poked through, she noticed they were infused with tender green sprouts, a hint of the coming spring. She pushed open the wrought-iron gate that encircled the cemetery at St. Sebastian's. It creaked in protest and clanged when she shoved it closed behind her.

This early on a Sunday morning, the cemetery was empty except for a tall, dark-haired man and a petite woman wearing a black hat, a veil covering her face. Dressed in long, dark coats, they stood with heads bowed, their backs to her. The image of grief left a memorable impression. She lowered her head, her gaze focused.