by C. Kennedy
Michael’s jaw nearly came unhinged.
Lisa smirked. “For reals, Mike. The guy was dumber than a box of hair.”
“Detective Davis was kind enough to put up a couple of his ghosts—”
“Ghosts?” Michael interrupted.
“Undercover guys. We dressed them up, and an FAA guy, and a Homeland guy so they looked like real people, and they made the buy.”
“Four men were arrested in that sting operation,” Detective Davis concluded.
“Does Chase know it was you who set up his guys?” Jake asked.
Smitty laughed outright. “I’m old but not brain-dead.”
Lisa rolled her eyes. “Of course not, Jake. None of Smitty’s guys were anywhere near the deal.”
Smitty gestured to Elf Man again, who brought up another image on the screen. “Take a look at that and tell me what you see.”
Jake and Michael studied it closely. “That’s Jason,” they said at the same time.
Lisa leaned in and pointed to one of the police officers. “That’s when the police were tryin’ to catch him.”
“This footage was obtained from the cameras on Tenth Avenue in Manhattan. Play it,” Detective Davis instructed.
The footage played, and Jason could be seen exiting the subway station at Times Square and heading down Tenth Avenue. A rifle report suddenly cracked the air, and people screamed as pandemonium broke out. A police scanner sounded with garbled commands and confused statements.
“Hold fire! Hold fire!”
“Shot fired, shot fired. Repeat, single shot fired. Subject down.”
“Not, repeat not, friendly fire!”
“Ambulance in route, ETA three minutes.”
“Above the theater company! Up there!” someone shouted.
Elf Man stopped the footage at an image of a police officer pointing upward, and Detective Davis continued. “We know from this footage that the person who shot Jason Whitman was on the roof of the theater company. We were able to confirm that from security camera footage from the building next door. We captured this image from that footage.”
The screen changed to a fuzzy image of a man with a dark complexion and straight, shoulder-length dark hair, and a feeling of dread bled through Michael’s veins.
“We find him leaving the theater building from a side exit minutes later.”
The image changed to one Michael couldn’t mistake. “That’s Yosef.”
“We thought so too at first.”
“Put up the image from the buy,” Smitty said.
The screen changed to an image of two groups of four men standing approximately six feet apart. The nearest man in the image looked identical to the man in the theater footage.
Michael didn’t think he could take any more surprises. “Who is that if it’s not Yosef?”
The screen changed again to a mug shot of someone who looked identical to Yosef. “Meet Ptolemy Sanna, one of Yosef’s many cousins.”
Michael wanted to scream like a girl. “Please tell me you’re kidding! The last thing Christy needs is another Sanna here!”
“He was on Yosef’s jet when we raided it, but we couldn’t link him to a crime and didn’t detain him. Thanks to the fuel sting operation, we now have him in custody. We’ve also learned that he is Celeste’s contact.”
Michael ran a hand down his face. “Unbelievable. Did you tell our parents?”
Detective Davis nodded. “I also took the liberty of telling Rob Villarreal. It goes without saying that everyone is relieved Ptolemy is in custody.”
“Did you tell Ariel?” Jake asked.
“Not yet. We have him for Jason’s murder here, among other things, but I want to speak to Nero and General Sotíras. We may have some formalities to go through if he needs to be extradited back to Greece for Christy’s trial.”
Michael groaned as his worry began to climb the scale. “I asked General Sotíras how dangerous it was for Christy to have Thimi here, and he said, ‘The Sannas’ reach is like the tentacles of an octopus. Their influence is in the air we breathe.’ But he also said just because the Sannas are dangerous in Greece doesn’t mean they’re dangerous here. Petros is smart, and he doesn’t want to anger the US government any more than Yosef already has because it can stop his ships from docking in North American ports. But if this cousin, Ptolemy, is here and up to no good, then Christy and Sophia are no safer here than in Greece.”
Jake rotated his shoulders to dispel tension in his neck. “Awesome. Not to mention we don’t know how big the Sanna family is.” Sarcasm was thick in his voice.
Detective Davis’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll obtain a family tree from General Sotíras, search to see if any others are in the country, and notify appropriate agencies to keep an eye out for them.”
Michael’s worry mounted exponentially. “What about the people who work for them like Celeste? How’d Ptolemy hook up with her?”
“The FBI indicates she was a prostitute in Greece, and Ptolemy made her an offer she couldn’t refuse.”
They looked at Detective Davis in astonishment before Michael scrubbed his face with both hands. “Great. That’s just great.”
Jake shook his head slowly. “A prostitute as a maid for Sophia and Ariel. That’s rich.”
“I’ll also look into the disposition of those from Yosef’s plane that we didn’t take into custody.”
“How many are there?” Jake asked.
“The manifest indicated twelve passengers. We took Yosef, the two men who assaulted you, Yosef’s driver, and the doctor who treated Christy into custody. That left seven people for deportation if they didn’t leave voluntarily. When Yosef’s assets were seized and the plane was grounded, they became obligated to purchase commercial flights to return to Greece.”
“Obviously at least one stayed here!” Michael’s exasperation hit the top of the scale, and he wanted to punch something.
Detective Davis was grave as he nodded.
Jake looked as angry and frustrated as Michael felt. “Okay, what happens to Chase now?”
“We issued a warrant for his arrest. We’ll find him.”
“And Rich?”
“I can charge him with leaving the scene of an accident that he didn’t cause, but frankly, it isn’t worth the department’s time. He’ll be released and will likely return home to his parents. I believe Tony’s funeral will be on Wednesday, and you may see him there.”
Michael sat shaking his head slowly.
Jake finally stood. “Thanks, Detective.”
Michael looked up at Smitty. “Thanks for everything, Uncle Smitty.”
Smitty gave Michael’s shoulder an uncharacteristic squeeze. “I’m glad we got to the bottom of it.”
“UNFREAKIN’ BELIEVABLE,” Jake said as they rode home.
“No shit, bro.” Michael hit Send on his phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“Rob.” Michael fidgeted as he waited for Rob to answer the phone, his nervous system still combating anger, frustration, but most of all, worry.
“Hi, Michael.”
“Hi, Rob. We just got the news. Did you tell Christy about Ptolemy yet?”
“No, he’s still asleep. After the cast change, the fear over the fire pit, and then Darien’s reckless behavior, Thimi had a rough night.”
Michael felt bad. The barbecue should have been fun for Thimi, but he knew firsthand from Christy how hard the simplest of things could be for a person recovering from abuse, particularly one who had been kept in captivity and hadn’t been exposed to the variables of the outside world. “Man, I’m sorry to hear that. He deserves so much better.”
“He does. Thank you for your understanding.”
“Back to my question. Do you have to tell Christy?”
“Why do you ask?”
“The guy’s in jail. If you tell Christy, you’ll scare him for no reason because there is nothing he can do about it.”
“Would you want to know if you were Christy?”
“How so?”
“Because… I don’t know. It just is.”
“I see.”
Michael heard amusement in Rob’s voice and became irritated. “Okay, fine. When are you going to tell him?”
“When he wakes. He’ll be happy to learn that the circumstances involving Rich are resolved.”
“I want to be there when you tell him. Do you think he’ll want to go to Tony’s funeral? I mean, he really wasn’t friends with Tony, but I think I should ask out of courtesy.”
“I don’t know.”
“Will you ask him to call me when he wakes?”
“I will.”
“Thanks.” Michael terminated the call.
“You’d be pissed off as hell if someone withheld that kind of information from you.”
Michael met Jake’s eyes. “I get it.”
CHRISTY SAT infinitely still as he listened to Rob speak. A thousand emotions cascaded through him, and he fought to organize his thoughts and stay in the here and now. He was glad Rob told Michael he didn’t need to be here for this conversation. He didn’t want to fall apart in front of Michael again. He was always weak and falling apart in front of him, and he hated it.
“Are you all right, Christophoros?” Dr. Jordanou asked.
He turned to Dr. Jordanou, unsure what to say, so he ignored the question and looked at General Sotíras. “Ptolemy is in the paintings for the trial in Greece.”
Fleeting surprise passed through Nicos’s eyes and was gone before it came to fruition. “I’ll have him extradited. Do you know how many cousins Yosef has?”
“Many. Petros has seven brothers.”
“Were they all involved in the abuse?”
Christy nodded slowly.
Rob sat forward, elbows on knees, and clasped his hands. “Do you want to go to Tony’s funeral on Wednesday?”
Yes? No? He didn’t know. He’d never been to a funeral, but he’d watched many boys die and hated the idea of death. He hadn’t gone to his mother’s funeral, and the thought caused profound sadness to fill him. He looked at General Sotíras again. “Did my mother have a funeral?”
“A beautiful ceremony.”
“She is buried somewhere?”
“Próto Nekrotafeío.”
A horrible realization came to him. “I died.”
“Pardon?”
“You thought I died with my mother. Is there a… a… grave for me?”
Nicos winced. “Let me make a call. Excuse me.” He stood and left the cabin.
Christy wanted to reach out, to grasp something strong and solid in an effort to ground his flailing emotions, but there was nothing to reach for. He had no one to blame but himself because he hadn’t wanted Michael there. He looked at Rob. “Sophia is dead.”
“She is not dead, and you did not die, Christy. What your father did was very cruel, but you’re both alive and well. You’re both doing wonderfully dealing with this new information.”
Sotíras returned within moments, retook his seat, and considered Christy for a long moment. “Your mother is entombed in a beautiful mausoleum. Would you like to see a picture of it?”
Christy nodded numbly, and General Sotíras passed the phone to him. Christy expanded the picture with his fingertips and studied the ornate tomb. Carved into the white marble, his mother’s beautiful form appeared to be resting in peaceful slumber. The likeness was startling, and longing to be held by her again cut him to the core. Tears threatened, and he fought them with all his might. He would not cry in front of General Sotíras.
“My mother is very near her,” Nicos said softly. “Perhaps we can visit together sometime.”
Christy nodded. “I would like this.” Rob reached for tissues and handed several to him, and he blew his nose before he spoke again. “I am there?”
General Sotíras nodded. “Look at the next picture.”
Christy touched the screen and saw the mausoleum from a different perspective. Two smaller tombs rested, one on each side of his mother’s.
“One is yours, and one is Sophia’s.”
It was an odd feeling to see his own grave, and he couldn’t decide how he felt about it. The only feeling he could isolate was unadulterated hatred for his father. He’d been near death many times, and there had been a strange calmness to it. He stroked a fingertip over the picture of the tombs. “What is in them if we are not there?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll speak with Nero about having them opened if you like.”
He was torn. Half of him wanted the tombs removed immediately, but the other half had a strange desire for his mother to know she was not alone. “I wish to know what is in them. If it is nothing, I wish to place the small children from the orphanage, the one who do not get the tomb, in them with the name. I do not wish my mother to be alone.”
“I’ll let Nero know and take care of the paperwork. What do you want to tell Sophia?”
Christy couldn’t help the agony that tore through him and fought discomposure again. He couldn’t fall apart. Not here. Not now. “She will not like this. The mausoleum will—” He looked to Rob for help. “What is the word for unpleasant uncomfortable? Creep?”
If sadness hadn’t imbued Rob’s expression, he might have smiled. “Creepy? It’s creepy seeing a tomb with your name on it? Meaning she’ll be as uncomfortable as you are seeing a tomb bearing your name.”
“Yes, this is the word. It is the creepy. I will tell her of it and I will tell her what I decide. I will ask if she would like the different decision. One moment please.” He withdrew his phone from a pocket. He knew he was speaking and his body was moving, but he felt disconnected. Disembodied. Mechanical. Almost artificial.
“It’s after ten,” Rob reminded him gently.
“She must have the news.”
“Jake probably told her already.”
“Jake does not know the news of the mausoleum.” Christy hit Send on the phone and switched to speaking in Greek when Sophia answered. “I am sorry for calling late.”
“I heard from Jacob. The news of Rich is good, but the news of Ptolemy is not.”
“I will deal with this. I have different news.”
“Tell me, agapiméne mou.”
“Our mother—” He stopped abruptly. “Alexis is buried at Próto Nekrotafeío.”
“Yes, I asked Mitéra about this.”
“Okay. I’m sorry. I do not know how to say this, so I will say it at once. Our father made tombs for us as if we are dead.”
There was a long silence before Sophia spoke, and what left her lips was not kind and ended in a shriek. “I hate that bastard!”
Christy closed his eyes. A raised voice always sent terror up his spine, and he worked to mentally push it away. Sophia wasn’t angry with him. She wouldn’t hurt him. “I feel the same. I made a decision. Will you listen?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“I wish the tombs to be opened and to know who is in them. Then, I wish children from the orphanage to fill them, and I wish the names to be changed. I wish this because I do not want her to be alone.”
Another long silence filled the phone. “This is a lovely idea.”
“You do not object?”
“No, but I wish you to consider something. Vasilis may have filled them with… with victims. If so, you may wish to leave them to rest.”
Christy squeezed his eyes shut. Why hadn’t he thought of that? “I did not think of this. I will see and, if so, I will have General Sotíras notify families.”
“This is the best you can do.”
“Thank you, Sophia.”
“This is all so much for you. Will you let me know if there is anything I can do to help?”
“Yes. This is all for now. I am happy you like the decision.”
“Will you go to the funeral on Wednesday?”
“I don’t know. Will you?”
“Only if Jacob wishes it. Truthfully, I’m leaving for Par
is and would rather have the time to prepare.”
“I did not remember this.”
“After Paris, I will go to Italy. If you are not all right for the summer here, come to see me?”
“I will be okay. I will care for Thimi.”
“How is it going?”
“It is much work. Everything is new, and he is very afraid. There are some problems with his health, but there is progress.” He wanted to ask her about General Sotíras’s visit to Ariel but couldn’t do it in front of him. “Let me finish my discussion with Rob and General Sotíras. Thank you for your help.”
“Call if you need anything, Christy. Anything at all.”
“I will. Thank you.” He terminated the call and looked at Nicos.
“She agrees with your decision?”
Christy nodded and spoke in English again. “She believes the small mausoleum may hold the victim of my father. Like this, I wish you to make the identity and notify the families.”
That fleeting surprise passed through Nicos’s eyes again before he nodded in understanding.
“You saw Ariel yesterday?”
“I did.”
“What does she say about the custody of Thimi?”
“She will do what is necessary to keep him with you. Someone from my office will meet with his adoptive parents, and we’ll know more then.”
This was a relief. “I do not wish Thimi to go to them.”
“We’ll do everything we can to keep things as they are.”
“Thank you. I am tired and wish to sleep now. I am not rude. I make the apology.”
The creases around Rob’s eyes deepened. “Michael wants you to call.”
“I must sleep. I will make the text.”
CHRISTY FELL into bed. He’d text Michael after a short rest. His brain was numb, he couldn’t think, he was emotionally spent, he couldn’t feel anymore, and exhaustion claimed him quickly. The nightmares came immediately, but they were different now. He dreamed his father had buried him alive. He fought to wake from them, to leave the dreams behind, but was helpless to escape them until he vomited in his sleep.
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
“HAVE YOU heard from Christy?” Jake asked as they dressed for Tony’s funeral on Wednesday morning.