She laughed. “You know what? I look forward to it.” His eyes widened, and she clarified, “The harassment, Father, not the flock. I’m not committing to rejoining the Church anytime soon.”

  “Well,” he said with a sly smile, “I enjoy a good chase as much as any man.”

  She laughed. “Wow! That is not a comment I would have expected from a priest.”

  “I make it a point to be as unpredictable as my frock will allow me,” he said. “I find it helps with impetuous, strong-willed young women who think they know better than everyone around them.”

  She chuckled and shook her head. “There’s a lot more to you than meets the eye, Father Emilio.”

  “Someday,” he said, “I’ll tell you all about it.”

  “I’ll hold you to that,” she said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “How is Sister Orpah?” Lauren asked.

  “She’ll be fine,” Father Emilio reassured her. “She’s going to be in the hospital for a couple days, but she’ll live. They caught it just in time to keep her from metabolizing a lethal dose of the nightshade. She’ll be back in her habit and grateful for it in no time.”

  “That’s good,” Lauren said. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  They were back at the café in Pescara. Lauren was sipping something Father Emilio called a cortado, a slightly heavier and stronger version of her go-to cappuccino. It wasn’t bad, but she found she missed the creaminess of the milk foam. She appreciated the extra shot of espresso, though. This case had exhausted her more than the most challenging of her cases in the Bureau.

  “Have you talked with Miss Trattoria?” Lauren asked. “I’m curious to know why she acted the way she did.”

  “Well,” Father Emilio said, “I did perform her confession, but I can’t tell you what she said.”

  “Right,” Lauren said. “Of course. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “I can tell you what she told Sergeant Forza in my presence. I’m afraid it’s rather disappointingly mundane.”

  “It usually is,” Lauren said, “Killers always turn out to be far less exciting than we expect them to be.”

  Father Emilio nodded. “Yes. It turns out that Miss Trattoria was sentenced to a convent for stealing some money from a church.”

  “She was sentenced to a convent?” Lauren asked incredulously.

  “Yes. It’s an utterly foolish practice, one that should have been abolished decades ago,” Father Emilio said. “The vows of a nun are a serious oath before God, that should be taken only by willing women who volunteer knowing exactly what they’re vowing and intending zealously to hold to those vows.”

  Lauren lowered her gaze and nodded. “Yes. I suppose you’re right.”

  Recalling Lauren’s past, the father said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m sure you had your reasons for leaving your habit.” He fell silent a moment, then said, “May I ask why?”

  Lauren took a breath and thought a moment before deciding to answer. “I was angry at God,” she said. “I suppose I still am. My mother fell ill when I was at the convent, and I prayed every day for God to heal her. I prayed every day, weeping and begging God to save her. I woke early every morning and went to bed late every night volunteering, cleaning the convent, feeding the poor, teaching children, visiting the sick and elderly. I spent hours studying the Bible, trying to be the best Catholic and the best nun I could possibly be.”

  “She died anyway. The average life expectancy of a person with stage four pancreatic cancer is three to five months. My mother died in two.”

  “I’m sorry,” Father Emilio said.

  “Yeah,” Lauren replied, sipping her cortado and staring pensively out the window at the bustling city street. “Me too. Anyway, I thought if God truly cared about His children, he had a funny way of showing it, and I wasn’t particularly inclined to worship a God who thought it was okay to take an older woman in such a damned violent way. I’m still not inclined, no offense. But…”

  “But?” he pressed.

  She took a breath and met his eyes again. “We’ll work our way up to that,” she said.

  He nodded and smiled compassionately. “Very well,” he said.

  “All right,” she said, “I told you something. Now you have to tell me something.”

  He chuckled. “That seems fair. What would you like to know?”

  “Who are you?” she asked. “I mean, I know you’re a priest, but you’re not just a priest. Priests don’t manhandle a violent criminal young enough to be their son with no more effort than I would use to swat a mosquito. They don’t run two miles fast enough to impress the socks off an Olympic runner. You were a soldier, weren’t you?”

  He chuckled. “No, not exactly.”

  “Not exactly?”

  “When I joined the order,” he said, “I mean the order, not when I became a priest, we were required to train with the Swiss Guards. I found I had a certain aptitude.”

  “That’s impressive,” Lauren said. “The Swiss Guards are no joke.”

  “No,” Father Emilio said seriously, shaking his head. “They’re not. I still have nightmares of my time at their camp.”

  “Oh, don’t try to pull that,” Lauren scoffed. “You loved every second of it.”

  He smiled and shrugged. “Well, you know. Even priests have their vanities.”

  “Well, you impressed the hell out of me,” she said. “One more question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Why did you stop being an exorcist? You mentioned that you did it for decades then stopped about ten years ago. You’re clearly still in good shape. What stopped you?”

  His smile faded slightly. Finally, he said, “We’ll work our way up to that.”

  She nodded. “Fair enough.”

  They fell silent a moment, gazing out the window as the people of Pescara milled about, wrapped up in their own little lives. Lauren was happy for them. It was good to have things that mattered, people that mattered, even if they meant something only to you and not anyone else. She wished them all long, happy, safe lives.

  “So,” Father Emilio said, breaking the silence. “What’s next for you?”

  “Me? Go home, I guess.”

  “Home to America?”

  She met his eyes and found him trying and failing miserably to hide his fear that she would be leaving. “Why Father,” she said, “Will you miss me if I leave?”

  He laughed and said, “Well, I won’t lie to you. I’ve felt more alive working on this case with you than I have in years. It’s fun to spend time with a willful, impetuous woman who—”

  “Thinks she knows better than everyone around her, yes, you’ve said,” she finished for him, rolling her eyes. “Well, you’ll be happy to know you’re not getting rid of me that easily. I’ll be staying in Arezzo for a while.”

  “Will you be okay living in your father’s house alone?” he asked.

  She took a deep breath and released it slowly. “No,” she said honestly. “Not right away. But I will be eventually. And... my father deserves for me to face my grief and not run from it the way I ran from his illness.”

  He nodded. “Yes,” he said, “and so do you.”

  She smiled gratefully at him. “What about you? Are you looking forward to a quiet life leading the flock at Arezzo?”

  “Eventually, yes,” he said, “but I’ll be here for a few weeks while they find a replacement for Dominic.”

  “You don’t want the job?” she asked.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Absolutely not. I’m happy in my quiet little town.”

  “I thought you said you liked excitement,” she said.

  He shrugged. “To a point, yes, but not all the time. Besides, running the parish here is not exciting. It’s just stressful boredom.”

  She laughed at that. “Boy, I wish I had known you when we were younger,” she said.

  “You couldn’t have handled me when I was younger,” he said, smiling.

  “I believe you,” she said.

  She lifted her drink to her lips but stopped as a thought struck her. “That girl. In Cepagatti. Will you visit her again?”

  “Of course,” he said, “this afternoon. From what I understand, the imp has been extremely docile after failing to assault you. I believe I can convince it to roam free for a while and leave the children of God unmolested.”

  “You can’t just send it to Hell?”

  He sighed. “I can, but if I did, I would be breaking my agreement with it, and it would simply return. God allows His servants authority over devils, but there are very strict rules we must follow, I’m afraid.” He smiled shrewdly. “I thought you didn’t believe in this stuff.”

  She shrugged. “Let’s just say I’m rethinking many of my beliefs.”

  “That’s good,” he replied. “You can come with me if you like.”

  “To Cepagatti?” she asked, surprised.

  “Yes,” he said, “I can teach you how to assist me. I don’t really need an assistant for a minor imp like the one possessing Carla, but it won’t hurt any to have you there. It might do you well to see how powerless these creatures are against the will of God executed by His faithful servants.”

  “I appreciate the offer,” Lauren replied, “but I’ll pass. I’ve had enough of demons for a while.”

  “Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug, “but I must warn you. This won’t be the last time I ask.”

  She smiled wryly at him. “One step at a time, Father Emilio.”

  “I’m too old to take things slowly,” he replied. “I can’t commit to any less than three, maybe four steps at a time.”

  She rolled her eyes. “It’s too bad they didn’t teach you to joke in the Swiss Guard.”

  “Oh, they did,” he said, “but I’m afraid very little of what they taught us is appropriate for a man of the cloth.”

  She laughed at that. He joined in, and when their laughter subsided, he lifted his coffee. “To us.”

  She smiled. “To us.”

  ***

  Lauren walked through her father’s vineyard and breathed deeply the scent of the vines. The grapes had begun to fall, but this harvest was lost anyway. She decided she would have to learn how to care for them properly. At the very least, she could start working on the broken gate. She didn’t imagine she would ever produce an award-winning vintage, but her father always swore that gardening was the best therapy. Maybe it would help her overcome her own grief.

  She found her grief remained as sharp as ever when she returned home. She had hoped the time away would blunt the edge of that knife.

  It hadn’t, but it had strengthened her spirit enough to endure the pain. She shook her head and chuckled. How ironic that taking a case had proven to be the magic formula needed to pull her from her funk. She had quit the FBI only to join the Catholic Church’s version of the secret service. God really did have a sick sense of humor.

  She gazed west where the sun just touched the tops of the hills in the distance and her smile faded. Kevin would have loved it here. He always talked about wanting to retire somewhere in the countryside and spend his days riding his horse across a meadow with his beautiful wife by his side. She wished desperately that he could be here with her now.

  That was another pain that hadn’t faded, but like her grief for her father, it was much more manageable now.

  She said a silent prayer of thanks for her newfound strength. She still wasn’t sure if anyone was actually out there to listen, but she said it anyway. Maybe if God really was out there, He would decide to have a little compassion on her for once.

  She could almost hear Father Emilio cautioning her against bitterness. She smiled. In the week since she’d returned, the father had called her every day, complaining like a bored child about all the procedures and paperwork and humdrum of managing the Pescara parish and lamenting that no one knew how to make a proper panzanella out there. She laughed to herself and shook her head. He had in many ways become her new father figure.

  He couldn’t replace her real father, of course, but she enjoyed the daily talks about nothing. They meant so much more than the sum of their parts to her. She found she looked forward to the day when he would return, and they could enjoy a proper panzanella together. She decided she would have to learn a recipe and invite him over for dinner.

  She was healing. Slowly, but surely, her new home was serving its purpose.

  She was pulled from her thoughts by the sound of horse hooves approaching. She turned and her eyes widened when she saw a beautiful palomino stallion approaching through the broken gate. She gasped, her breath stolen as the magnificent creature trotted over, stopping just in front of her and regarding her curiously.

  Her hand lifted of its own accord and caressed the animal’s cheek. It accepted the caress calmly and snorted softly.

  Was she dreaming? Had the most beautiful horse on Earth just wandered into her vineyard out of nowhere?

  “Gnocchi!” a rich tenor voice called. “Gnocchi, where have you gone?”

  She turned to the voice, and a moment later, its owner took her breath away.

  He looked as though he had walked off the cover of a romance novel set in Tuscany. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with auburn hair that waved slightly in the light breeze. His eyes were as blue as the Tuscan sky and when he smiled, his face seemed to shine like the sun on the Mediterranean.

  Lauren was not given to flights of romance, so the fact that these were the thoughts that came to her head was testament to how much this man affected her.

  “Gnocchi!” he cried, jogging over to them, “quit bothering the poor lady. Don’t you know it’s rude to trespass?”

  Gnocchi snorted and tossed his head with perfect indifference, and Lauren laughed before she could stop herself.

  The mysterious man offered her another dazzling smile and said, “I apologize for him. He’s always been a shameless flirt.”

  “That’s all right,” Lauren said, “I like flirting.”

  Really? I like flirting?

  She blushed, but fortunately for her, the romance hero didn’t seem to notice her embarrassment. “I’m Enrico,” he said, extending his hand. “Enrico Valentino. I apologize for the rhyming name. My father fancies himself a troubadour.”

  “Giulia Lambi,” Lauren replied, taking his hand, and blushing further at her semiconscious choice to introduce herself by her Italian name.

  “Miss Giulia,” he said, shaking her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” Lauren replied. “Your horse is beautiful.”

  “Thank you,” he said, grinning. “I agree with you. He’s the most beautiful little gnocchi in the world.”

  He grinned and hugged the horse’s head. His boyish expression complimented his ruggedly handsome face so well that Lauren couldn’t resist a laugh.

  “Well, Miss Giulia,” Enrico said after he pulled away from Gnocchi. “I apologize for being so forward after trespassing on your property, but perhaps you and I could have a coffee sometime? I live in the house just over that hill.”

  He gestured to a small rise a quarter mile away from the vineyard. “I’ll let you ride Gnocchi, if you like,” he offered with a grin.

  “I’ll have to take you up on that one day,” she said.

  “Wonderful,” he replied. “Until then. Come Gnocchi,” he said, “let’s get you home before Mama worries. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Giulia.”

  “And to meet you,” Lauren replied.

  He grinned again, then mounted Gnocchi bareback and cantered off, leaving her breathless.

  When he left, her thoughts returned instantly to Kevin of course. Fluttering heart aside, she wasn’t ready for romance with anyone yet.

  Still, it was nice to know that her heart wasn’t broken beyond repair.

  She looked back toward the setting sun and said out loud, “I think I’m going to like it here.”

  EPILOGUE

  “Hi, Dad,” she said in Italian, kneeling in front of her father’s grave. “It’s been a while.”

  The sun shone on her back, and she was grateful for its warmth right now. “I don’t really know how to say this,” she began, “so I guess I’ll just say it.

  “I’m sorry I never visited you. You were always so strong for me, and when you needed me to be strong for you, I… I couldn’t be. I had years to come see you, and I never did because I couldn’t face the fact that Mom was gone, and you were getting old and everyone I had loved was leaving me. I just thought… I guess I thought if I just kept running, then death would never catch me. Boy was I wrong about that.”

  Her thoughts drifted to the email she received from Wolf that morning. Fiero had gone underground again. The San Francisco lead turned out to be a dead end. The Bureau was doing everything they could to find him, but he was afraid they wouldn’t be able to track him down anytime soon.

  The email ended, of course, with the standard plea for Lauren to return and help find him, but she knew now that she never would. That part of her life was over. She may one day return to the United States, but not to the FBI. She didn’t exactly regret her time with the Bureau, but she knew now that joining the FBI was simply her way of avoiding the pain of her mother’s death.

  She was done avoiding things. It worried her that Fiero may never face justice for his crimes, but she knew now that she wasn’t the right person to hunt him. It had nearly killed her, and not only physically.

  She turned back to the headstone and put thoughts of Fiero away. “I should have come to see you. You deserved better than to die alone. I hope that wherever you are right now, you’re with Mom and you’re happy.”

  She thought a moment about that. She wasn’t entirely ready to believe that there was something waiting after death, but it brought her comfort to think of her parents meeting again, so she allowed herself to feel that comfort in the moment.

  “I met a man last week,” she said, “I don’t know if I’ll do anything about it yet. I’m still grieving Kevin, of course, but… well, we’ll see. I’m learning that grief doesn’t have to define who I am.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17