But first, “How do you know he was working for the Vatican for sure? Do you have any proof?”
“They’re paying his bills, for one thing,” he replied with a shrug. “He also gets a call from a number in Italy about once a week, a number registered to an office in Vatican City. I don’t know much about the Vatican, I have to admit, but I’m sure they have several dozen departments. I couldn’t determine which one this number was registered to, however.”
“And how did you find out he got a call from them at all?” I asked, liking his results.
“It was weird. The guy just left his phone on a table at a restaurant,” he said, lying through his teeth. “By the time I ran it out to him, I’d accidentally scrolled through all his incoming calls. And read his texts.”
“One of those freak occurrences?”
“Exactly.” He handed me a manila envelope. “And all that information may or may not be in this envelope.”
“I’ll have to think positive,” I said, taking it from him, already coming up with ways to sneak it into the convent. “Did you find a connection between him and my father? Something that might implicate him in my dad’s death?”
“No, and I don’t think you will.”
“Why?”
“He just doesn’t seem the type to kill someone and leave his body in a storage shed.”
The reminder of how my father was found shuddered through me. “Why do you say that?”
“He’s a vegan, for starters. Most vegans are nonviolent. And he never misses Mass.”
“Makes sense. He does work for the Vatican.”
“I think his only job is to observe and report. For some reason, the Vatican wants to keep a very close eye on you. I just don’t get a killer kind of vibe from this guy.”
I nodded, trusting his instincts. “I don’t suppose you got a name?”
“Howard, if that’s his real name.”
“Howard?” I asked, a little disappointed. I expected something exotic and Italian like Alberto or Ceasario. But Howard?
“Howard Berkowitz.”
“Now you’re just teasing me.”
He grinned. “Nope. That’s what he goes by.”
“Okay, I’ll look this over. In the meantime, I need you to grab Howard and bring him here.”
He chuckled softly. “I’m sorry, Ms. Davidson, but I don’t kidnap people.”
“I don’t mean kidnap. ‘Kidnap’ is such a strong word. I mean coax. Encourage. Maybe roofie him.”
“Well, again, I can’t do that. I have a better idea.”
“There can’t possibly be a better idea,” I said, deflating. And here I was, thinking his ethics were on the same level as mine: practically nonexistent.
“How about we tell your uncle, the APD detective, so he can at least bring the guy in and question him.”
I toed a rock at my feet. “That might work, but I won’t be able to be there.”
“You don’t trust your uncle to get to the truth?”
Not when I could tell if he were lying instantly, but I wasn’t about to tell Alaniz that. “No, I do. I guess I’ll have to. But we have to get this information to my uncle without him knowing I was involved.”
“I think I can handle that.”
“Perfect.” At least it was a step in the right direction. I scanned the area to make sure they hadn’t sent out a search party for me. So far, so good. “Okay, what about that other thing we talked about?”
“Which one?” he asked, his voice full of amusement.
I had him working on several cases for me at once. “The brother thing.”
“Ah.” He flipped through his notepad.
This was the tricky part. The part Reyes didn’t want me looking into. The part where Mr. Alaniz’s fears for my safety could actually come to fruition. Reyes would never hurt me, but I couldn’t say the same for any unfortunate passerby should my husband find out I’d been delving into his past.
5
SOME DAYS I LOOK BACK ON MY LIFE
AND I’M EXTREMELY IMPRESSED I’M STILL ALIVE.
—T-SHIRT
When Reyes, aka Rey’aziel, had decided to be born on earth to be with me, he chose a wonderful couple to raise him. Or that’s the story I got. But he was kidnapped as an infant. I thought he’d been kidnapped by Earl Walker, the monster who raised him. I didn’t find out until just before being banished to the convent that Earl didn’t abduct him. A couple in Albuquerque, the Fosters, did. They’d abducted him from a rest stop in North Carolina.
How Earl Walker got ahold of him was a little less clear. Perhaps the Fosters feared they were about to get caught and sold him to Earl, and now they had another son. I’d asked Mr. Alaniz to find out two things: One, was the man the Fosters claimed as their son really their son, or had they abducted him as well? And, two, who was the couple that Reyes had been abducted from, the one he’d originally chosen to be his family?
The latter boiled down to one thing: That couple still lost a child thirty years ago. Their hearts were still broken, their dreams shattered, and I wanted them to know that their son had grown into a wonderful and honorable man.
Because I knew the time frame and the area where Reyes had been abducted—a rest stop in North Carolina about thirty years ago—it wasn’t difficult for Alaniz to find his birth parents. But if he knew I’d sought them out, Reyes would be livid. He told me so, made me promise not to look for them, but after becoming pregnant with Beep, after knowing that bond that exists between a parent and a child, I couldn’t let them go to their graves wondering whether their son was alive or dead. If he was happy. If he’d suffered.