For Just Cause

by Kara Lennox

  “Will you do that?”

  His silence was driving her crazy. She knew she’d hit him with a lot, but really, they didn’t have all day.

  “Father?”

  It was then she noticed a faint odor that seemed out of place in a confessional. Menthol cigarettes.

  As panic welled up inside her, she fumbled with the latch on the door. Only one thought assailed her brain: get out, get out, get out. But she wasn’t fast enough.

  A fist smashed through the screen.

  Before Claudia could get out of the way in the claustrophobic little closet, the hand had clamped around her throat.

  “You should have left it alone, like Pedro told you to.” The voice, harsh and rasping, sounded as though it came straight from hell. Her body tensed as if frozen, unable to move, and her previously injured wrist and hip throbbed. “You could have saved yourself but you wouldn’t back off. My wife doesn’t deserve the effort you’ve made to save her.”

  Claudia couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe. Eduardo Torres was pressing on her carotid artery, cutting off the blood supply to her brain. She clawed at his hand, but it was like tearing at steel with bare fingernails.

  Think, think, think. She was not a helpless victim. She could do something, take some kind of action, that would alert Billy she was in trouble.

  Her personal-safety alarm! This time, she had one hand free. She reached into her dress pocket and pressed the button on the little plastic device. An ear-splitting siren filled the tiny room.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “CLAUDIA!” BILLY WAS TORN. Help the unconscious priest or help the woman he loved, who was undoubtedly in trouble right this moment?

  “Go. I’ll tend to Father Benito.”

  The nun was standing now. She’d retrieved her glasses from Angie, and she looked a lot stronger and more sure of herself than she had a few moments earlier.

  She didn’t have to ask him twice. “Watch the girl,” he warned as he darted out the door. “Make sure she doesn’t get loose.”

  Billy let his ears guide him to the siren. As he reentered the church, it became clear that the sound was coming from the confessional. He leaped across two rows of pews to get there. He tried to open the door, but it was locked.

  “Claudia!” He didn’t waste much time trying to get her to unlock the door. She was obviously in trouble or she wouldn’t have set off the siren. Instead, he took a step back and forced the door open.

  The scene that greeted him was as shocking as anything he’d ever seen. The arm and shoulder of a man reached through the screen and had Claudia pinned to the wall. She wasn’t moving.

  The second he’d burst through, though, the hand released her and withdrew.

  “Claudia, are you okay?”

  Her hand fluttered. “I’m okay,” she rasped. “Get Eduardo.”

  Eduardo had already exited the priest’s side of the confessional, and he was ready for Billy. From a crouch, he sprang at Billy, knocking him to the ground.

  But when it came to hand-to-hand combat, not many people could get the drop on Billy. Eduardo got in the first good lick, but before the other man could get his hands around Billy’s throat, Billy changed the angle of his body, shifted his legs, immobilized Eduardo’s arm for a fraction of a second, and then raised his hips just half an inch, and all of a sudden it was Eduardo who was on the ground and Billy on top of him.

  Now would have been the golden opportunity to teach Eduardo a lesson. The man was a beast, beating his wife, putting her through the anguish of thinking him dead, not to mention setting her up as a suspect, the trial, incarceration, even the death penalty. Unfortunately, Billy didn’t have the luxury of time. He’d pitted an elderly nun and an unconscious old priest against wily Angie, who even with her hands tied could do a lot of damage if she put her mind to it.

  Billy drew his gun and stood, pointing his weapon at Eduardo and daring him to fight. “Turn over onto your stomach and put your hands behind your head.”

  “Okay, okay, don’t shoot.” The gangster did as requested.

  Claudia emerged from the confessional, pale and shaking. She had a necklace of angry red marks around her throat, and the sight of her injury made Billy want to shoot Eduardo through his heart.

  “Are you okay, cielito?”

  “I’m okay.” Her voice was nothing but a whisper. Had Eduardo injured her vocal cords?

  “The police are on their way, but I need you to find something to tie Eduardo’s hands with.”

  “How about the belt from my dress?” Her voice was stronger now, but still shaky.

  “Perfect.”

  “I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  Stunned, Billy turned to find Angie holding a gun of her own. She had Father Benito and the nun in front of her, the weapon pointed right at the nun’s head.

  “Drop the gun, Cantu, or you’ll end up with a lot of dead people on your conscience.”

  Slowly, Billy did as requested. He laid the gun at his feet, then slowly straightened and put his hands in the air. He kicked the gun, sending it sliding several feet under the pews. The last thing he wanted was for Eduardo to get his hands on a deadly weapon.

  “Get up, Dad,” Angie said. “I got it under control now.”

  Eduardo was slow to get up, and in fact, he never made it. His right leg buckled under him, and he fell back to the floor, howling in pain.

  “You son of a bitch! I think you broke my leg.”

  “Let’s just get the coins and get out of here,” she said nervously. “One more time, old priest, where did you put the coins?”

  She jabbed Father Benito in the chest with her gun, which would have been a stupid move had she done it to Billy. He’d have gotten the gun away from her in a flash. But he was too far away to do anything.

  The priest had a large bump on his head, and he was pale, but otherwise he seemed okay. “I told you already, the coins aren’t here.”

  “Then where are they?”

  “In Mexico, where they belong. Your father stole them from a Mexico City museum. Your mother told me the whole story. Spanish gold and silver coins, recovered from the wreck of the Margarita.”

  “You stole those coins!” Angie shouted. “You took advantage of my aunt being in the hospital and you broke into her house. What kind of priest are you?”

  “One who was very close to your aunt, and your mother,” Father Benito said calmly. True to his word, he didn’t seem to be afraid of dying. “We were all from the same poor village, you see. As a young priest I came to the States, and the Rio Verde elders asked for my help. They asked me to find good American husbands for the young girls, so they could have a better life, free from hunger, where they wouldn’t have to have their babies without doctors or hospitals. I thought I was doing a good thing.”

  “Mary-Francis was fifteen,” Claudia said. “Her sister only two years older.”

  “In rural Mexico, back then, fifteen was considered a marriageable age. Eduardo Torres was a wealthy young man, twenty-four and already he owned a house. He promised to be good to her. If I’d known what he would put her through…”

  He couldn’t go on.

  Angie actually seemed to be paying attention to what the priest had to say. She didn’t look as angry as she had before.

  “Don’t listen to him, Angie,” Eduardo said. “He’s trying to distract you. Just get him to tell us where the coins are. Shoot him in the leg if you have to.”

  “The coins are gone,” the priest said coldly. “Yes, I took the statue. When I realized Theresa was nearly murdered, most likely because of the coins, I took them—for safekeeping, at first. But then I realized how much evil had been perpetrated because of greed over those coins, and I decided to do the right thing. I returned them to the museum. I took the reward money and I donated it to the school in Rio Verde. Then I set up a shrine with the statue. I prayed to the Virgin every day to heal Theresa, and to free Mary-Francis, who I knew in my heart could not have killed he
r husband. Though in my opinion she would have been justified had she done so.” He looked as though he wanted to spit on Eduardo.

  “So there are no coins?” Angie wailed.

  “There are no coins, my child,” the priest said. “They are gone forever.”

  Angie’s eyes filled with tears. “So it’s all been for nothing. All the planning and lying, all the searching. I assaulted a nun, and now I’m going to jail and there aren’t any coins.”

  Slowly she turned the gun away from Father Benito and aimed it at her own head.

  “Angie, don’t,” Billy said. “You haven’t done anything that bad. A good lawyer can get you off.”

  “Conspiracy to commit murder. That’s what you said.”

  “I was lying.” He glanced over at Claudia and was surprised to see she had gradually worked her way closer to Angie. Wasn’t this her area of expertise? Wasn’t she the one who dealt with suicidal patients?

  “I was gonna live a life of luxury in Mexico. Just me and Dad. We figured no one would question a nun and a priest crossing the border. The money from selling those coins would have bought us a house in Cancun, with servants. And a Mercedes.”

  “Put the gun down, Angie,” Billy said.

  “Billy, duck!” Claudia screamed as she launched herself at Angie—just as Angie turned the gun toward him.

  He dived out of the way.

  Angie pulled the trigger, but the bullet went wild—and blew the head off the Virgin Mary statue.

  The combined forces of Claudia, the nun and the priest wrested the gun away from Angie. Billy, meanwhile, retrieved his own weapon from under the pew.

  And that was when, at long last, the police chose to make their entrance.

  “Shots fired, shots fired,” one of the uniformed cops screamed into his radio.

  Next thing Billy knew, another cop was relieving him of his weapon and cuffing him while Eduardo tried to convince the cops he was the real priest. It took a few minutes to get things straightened out, when all Billy wanted to do now was take Claudia in his arms and hold her…just hold her.

  Finally, when all of the correct suspects were cuffed and everyone had received medical attention, Billy saw his opportunity. Claudia sat by herself in a back pew, applying lipstick and fixing her hair.

  His heart expanded, creating an uncomfortable pressure inside his chest, and he quickly sat down beside her, before anyone could buttonhole him to ask more questions.

  “Oh,” she said. “I guess this looks pretty silly, worrying about my appearance at a time like this.”

  “I’m guessing it’s perfectly normal, in a time of high stress, to do something to quiet your nerves. Didn’t you try to tell me, once, about self-comforting gestures?”

  “Very astute of you. That’s exactly what I’m doing—introducing an extremely mundane activity into this chaotic scene to calm myself.” She put on a brave smile as she put away her lipstick, but when she took his hand and squeezed it, she was still trembling.

  Billy couldn’t help himself. He put his arms around her and hugged her. “I’ve never been so scared as when I saw Eduardo choking you. I thought I was too late. And then when you called out a warning and jumped on Angie—you saved my life. How in the hell did you know she was going to shoot me?”

  “It was all over her face. She was no suicide candidate—she loves herself too much to take her own life. She was pointing the gun at herself for effect, for sympathy, maybe. I could tell by the way she looked at each person, gauging whether she was getting the reaction she wanted.

  “And when she looked at you—even though it was just a brief glance—she showed obvious, strong contempt. She blamed you for ruining everything. The tension in her arm and hand changed and I just knew she was about to strike.”

  “I will never, ever call your skills voodoo again, I promise.” He pulled back so he could look into her eyes. They swam with tears. “Cielito, don’t cry. It’s over now.”

  “Billy.” She swallowed, struggling for words. “I’m so sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “For insisting you tell me about Sheila.”

  He waited for the crushing pain that always struck him anytime he heard her name or thought of her. It was there, but it seemed more a dull ache than the punishing blow it had always been before. Maybe today he’d broken the curse, or reversed the spell, or something. Today, he’d gotten to everyone in time. He’d saved Claudia from Eduardo.

  “You were right,” Claudia continued. “Everyone has the right to privacy of thought. I can’t stop myself from reading faces and gestures—that’s a part of me that I can’t turn off. But I don’t have to constantly broadcast what I see, or insist on knowing more. That was wrong of me. Very wrong.”

  “Maybe not so wrong, querida. You saw darkness in me, and it scared you. You only wanted to bring my soul into the light.”

  “That’s a very poetic way of saying it, but that doesn’t make it right.”

  “I’m just sayin’, maybe I have the right to a few secrets, but you have the right to feel safe when you’re with me. And if you don’t feel safe, you have the right to leave.”

  “Then I should have just left, rather than force you to—”

  “You couldn’t have forced me if I hadn’t wanted to talk. I’ve been tortured by people a lot scarier than you.”

  She gasped. “You were tortured? When?” Then she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Never mind.”

  Billy smiled. “That’s a story for another day. And I’ll tell you all about it, if you really want to know. But about Sheila—I was afraid to tell you because I thought you’d turn away. I killed her.”

  “You made a judgment call. It might have been the wrong decision—might have been. But maybe he would have killed her even if you’d aborted the moment you realized things weren’t quite right. Either way, that’s not the same as killing someone. I would never turn away from you for that. I…I love you, Billy. I know that’s kind of crazy, but I do.”

  “Claudia. Te amo, también. Mi trocito de cielo.” I love you, too, my little heaven.

  Forgetting that they were in a church, he leaned in and kissed her. And he would have kept on kissing her if Sister Marguerite hadn’t cleared her throat. They broke apart guiltily. The nun had been restored to her habit, looking as scary as any he’d faced in school.

  He just hoped she didn’t have a ruler.

  * * *

  “I DON’T NORMALLY advocate drinking during the workday,” Daniel said from his video screen in the conference room, “but since this was Billy’s first official case, and he successfully closed it, a little champagne is in order.”

  Daniel popped the cork of a bottle of Dom Pérignon, and in the conference room, Billy did the same. The conference room was jam-packed with everybody who’d worked on the case, even a little bit, and some people who just liked to celebrate.

  “Mary-Francis Torres will be released from prison tomorrow,” Claudia announced. “Her sister, Theresa, is improving day by day. She’s up in a wheelchair now, and her doctors believe that with physical therapy and other treatments, she’ll be going home soon.”

  “In addition,” Billy said, “Pedro Madrazo was taken into custody yesterday. He’s facing a long list of charges, including his assault on Claudia in the parking garage.”

  “What about the priest?” Daniel asked. “He did steal a million dollars’ worth of valuable coins.”

  “Since they were stolen property to begin with,” Billy said, “and he returned them to their rightful owner, and he didn’t take them for personal gain, no one’s inclined to press charges. So he’s in the clear.”

  Billy poured a few swallows of champagne into crystal wineglasses for everyone who chose to imbibe. Celeste was first in line, and when everyone had been served, she thrust her glass at Billy again.

  “You only gave me a few drops the first time.”

  Billy emptied the bottle into Celeste’s glass, then everyone raised their glasses and toa
sted the success of the case.

  “Turns out we have a couple more things to celebrate,” Billy said. “The first is, I’m leaving Project Justice.”

  “What?” Raleigh said, along with several others. “How is that a reason to celebrate?”

  “Because I’m going back to police work. I’ve applied to the Houston Police Department, and with Jamie’s recommendation I’m pretty sure they’ll take me. Working the Torres case made me realize how much I miss wearing the badge.”

  “That is good news,” Daniel said, lifting his glass again. “I knew Project Justice was only a temporary way station for you until you found your way back to law enforcement. And I trust you’ll be our ally with the police.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  Everyone raised their glasses again, congratulating Billy on his decision.

  “You said two more reasons to celebrate,” Daniel said. “What’s the second?”

  “I bet I know,” Beth said.

  Billy felt his face splitting with an ear-to-ear grin. “Dr. Claudia Ellison has agreed to be my wife.”

  Spontaneous cheers broke out as everyone rushed Billy and Claudia in an effort to congratulate them. Just when the furor was dying down, and a few people were wondering if there might not be another bottle of champagne somewhere, seeing as they had three things to celebrate, a strange noise came from under the polished mahogany table—a loud snort and a scuffling sound.

  Jillian screamed and climbed up on her chair, teetering there in her high heels. Within seconds every woman in the room and half the men were screaming or shouting as the javelina burst from cover, snorting and pawing the ground.

  “Good God!” Daniel shouted. “Is that the pig?”

  Celeste calmly scooped up the critter. “There, there, Buster, it’s okay. You don’t have to be afraid, Mama’s got you now.” She made a quick escape.