Something Dark (A Lauren Lamb FBI Thriller—Book Four), page 7
Paolo smiled up at his father, but seemed a little vacant. Lauren knew that serious medical issues were often mistaken for possession and that sufferers sometimes never received treatment until it was too late. She hoped that Paolo was all right.
“What was your experience with Father Vincenzo?” Father Emilio asked.
“He seemed a thoroughly pleasant, although thoroughly rough-mannered man. He had a coarse demeanor and a booming voice, but the heart of a lamb. When he was present, it was as though the light of Heaven encompassed us.”
Mrs. Gotti rolled her eyes. Briefly, and she caught herself halfway, but Laruen caught the tic. “Mrs. Gotti, what was your experience with Father Vincenzo?”
Mrs. Gotti offered a frosty smile and said in a gentle but equally frosty tone. “He was wonderful.”
Lauren looked at Mr. Gotti. He smiled down at his wife, then across at Lauren. He seemed clueless more than controlling, but the fact remained that Mrs. Gotti was hiding something and wouldn’t share it in her husband’s presence.
“Mrs. Gotti, would you mind taking a walk with me through your lovely gardens?” Lauren asked. “I’d like to ask you some questions in private.”
Mr. Gotti frowned. “Whatever you must share with my wife, you can share with me,” he said, his tone still pleasant but with an edge to it now.
“I assure you, Mr. Gotti,” Father Emilio said, “your wife is not a suspect.”
Lauren glanced at Father Emilio. The father wasn’t a liar, so he must have seen something that assured him that Mrs. Gotti was not a suspect in Father Vincenzo’s murder, but Lauren had seen something that made her wonder about both of them.
Mr. Gotti looked between the father and Lauren and relaxed slightly but kept his frown. “I don’t understand, then. If she is not a suspect, why must Miss Lamb speak with her alone? Am I a suspect?”
“I would like to give both of you the chance to tell your version of events,” Lauren said. “During traumatic experiences, different people may remember different things. By comparing the memories, we can often learn more than if people agree on the same story.”
That was all true, but Lauren was convinced that recall wasn’t the reason for Mrs. Gotti’s silence in front of her husband. “It will only take a few moments,” she promised.
Mr. Gotti glanced at his wife, who nodded. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him softly on the lips, then followed Lauren. Lauren lifted an eyebrow in surprise at the clearly genuine affection. Mrs. Gotti led Lauren from the summer room onto a winding path that led through different cycads arranged among palms and Mediterranean succulents.
“You are wondering why I love him even though he is old?” Mrs. Gotti said, breaking the silence.
“I was a little surprised,” Lauren admitted.
Mrs. Gotti smiled. "He is the kindest man I have ever met. His wealth has not ruined him. He donates half of his income to charities that aid children's education programs across the world. He dotes on Paolo, a little too much sometimes, I suppose, but a child should know the love of a father."
She was clearly more comfortable away from her husband than she was around him. It didn’t make sense considering her words.
“And you? How does he treat you?”
Mrs. Gotti laughed. “Do you mean am I satisfied? Trust me, Miss Lamb, in bed my husband is twenty-five.”
"That's not what I meant," Lauren said, reddening slightly. "I meant, how is he with you in general? How would you describe your relationship?"
“My relationship is wonderful,” Mrs. Gotti replied. She stopped and turned to Lauren. “Why are you asking me these questions? What does this have to do with Father Vincenzo?”
Lauren decided to be direct. “I noticed you seemed very uncomfortable talking about Father Vincenzo in the summer room. I wondered if perhaps you disagreed with your husband about the father.”
Mrs. Gotti sighed. “I love my husband, but I don’t agree with all of this esoteric stuff—exorcisms and rituals and chants. It just seems like mumbo jumbo. I believed that Paolo simply had epilepsy. My husband refused to take him to the hospital until the priest looked at him first.”
Her lips thinned as she said this, and Lauren understood why she had been tense around her husband. She might indeed love Marco Gotti—she certainly hadn't been shy to kiss him—but that didn’t mean she wasn’t angry at him.
“And how has Paolo been since the exorcism?”
Mrs. Gotti’s lips thinned further. She bit her lower lip and looked away.
“Mrs. Gotti,” Lauren said, “If there’s something you need to share with me, then now is the time. Your husband doesn’t have to know you told me.”
“Oh he knows, I’ve told him every day for a week.” Tears came suddenly to Lorena Gotti’s face, and she said, “I just… I used to believe all this, you know? I used to believe in… angels and demons and God and the Church. I prayed, I carried my Saint Christopher and my rosary beads and my cross, and I thought that if I attended Mass every Sabbath and abstained from sex that Satan’s demons couldn’t get me.”
She paused, and Lauren gently pressed, "And now?"
“And now? Well, I don’t know. I grew up. I stopped believing in all of this. I became an adult, and it just didn’t make sense anymore. Like Santa Claus. When you’re a child, you believe it, but if you’re an adult and you believe it, then you’re foolish. I became an adult, and I stopped being foolish.”
She met Lauren’s eyes. “And now… Paolo is healed, Miss Lamb. He… he had seizures every day for weeks. He would stay up all night, laughing and crying and screaming and saying the most horrible things. I thought my son was dying.
“And now it is as though he were never ill. He is his typical sweet, cautious, somewhat airheaded but adorable chunky little self.”
She smiled in the special way that only a mother could smile. “He’s back, and I should be happy, and I am happy, but…” she crossed her arms and her smile faded. “It makes me ask questions I don’t want the answer to,” she said. “That’s what it is. I’m content to believe in science and order and what we can see and feel and prove. I don’t want to wonder if there are monstrous creatures lurking beneath my son’s bed to steal his soul.” She paused a moment. “Or equally monstrous ones lurking above.”
Lauren nodded. “I know exactly what you mean, Lorena.” It struck Lauren that Lorena was her own name. She simply used the English spelling and Mrs. Gotti the Italian. That was only coincidence, but it strengthened Lauren’s newfound sense of affinity with the woman.
As did Lorena’s concerns about the exorcism. That, in a nutshell, was why Lauren hated what she had seen in the hotel. Not because it could mean that she was losing her grip on reality but because it could mean that everything she denied was, in fact, very real.
“Mrs. Gotti,” she said, intentionally using her last name to return to a professional demeanor. “When was the last time you interacted with Father Vincenzo?”
“The day of the exorcism,” she said. “When Paolo was healed, I thanked him and then I took Paolo away. My husband paid him, and he left. We heard about his murder days later, after they found the other priest.”
“Can you verify your whereabouts on the day of his murder?”
“The staff will confirm that I was here, if you don’t trust my son’s word,” she said. “I suppose the cameras would have seen me here and there if that won’t suffice.”
“We’ll check. Thank you.”
They returned to the room where Father Emilio was deep in conversation with Mr. Gotti.
“So he used the older incantation,” Father Emilio was saying. “Interesting. In my experiences with Father Vincenzo, he preferred the later translation.”
“He said that this demon was strong and that the older rites would serve him better,” Mr. Gotti replied. “I don’t know anything about that myself, of course, so I deferred to his judgment.”
Father Emilio nodded. Lauren could see the familiar scowl he wore when he was deep in thought. Mrs. Gotti rejoined her husband, and Lauren could see that much of the tension between them had faded. Lorena put her arm around her husband and leaned against his chest, and Mr. Gotti smiled tenderly at her.
Father Emilio stood and smiled. “Thank you for your time,” he said to the parents. “And thank you, Paolo, for letting us borrow your mother and father.”
Paolo looked up at him and smiled. Then he turned to Lauren. “Can you hear him?” he said. “He’s screaming.”
The world fell away from Lauren. She took a step backward and placed a hand on the table to steady herself. “What?” she said, her voice hollow in her ears.
“It’s the cat,” Lorena said, rolling her eyes. “He’s stuck in a tree again.” She turned to Paolo. “I’ll have Ricardo fetch him. Don’t worry, son.”
He nodded and looked back down at the small toy dinosaur he held in his hand. Lauren could hear the distant cries of the cat. To her ears, they sounded disturbingly human.
She stared at Paolo until she felt Father Emilio’s hand on her shoulder. “Come, Lauren,” he said, leading her away gently but firmly. “We have more business to attend to.”
Lauren’s composure returned slowly to her as they left the house. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest, and she breathed softly and slowly until it calmed.
“Are you all right?” Father Emilio asked. “Is it what Paolo said?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine. But we have no leads now. Neither of our exorcised subjects are viable suspects and their families and friends check out too. We need to look elsewhere.”
“Perhaps we should talk to the Vatican,” Father Emilio said. “They retrieved the bodies and buried them quickly, but perhaps they noticed something before they did, a clue we could use.”
“That’s a good idea,” Lauren said. “We’ll talk to them.”
As they walked back to their car, Lauren turned back toward the Gotti house. Paolo Gotti stared at her through an upper window. She stopped walking and turned back to face him, lips thinning.
You want me? She thought. Come get me.
Paolo smiled, lips stretching taut across his face in a distended grin. Lauren’s body went slack with fear. She tried to turn but remained rooted to the spot as the child gazed unblinkingly at her.
She felt a hand on her shoulder and jumped. “Are you all right, Lauren?” Father Emilio asked.
She forced her eyes to leave the window. When they did, she felt air return to her lungs. “I’m fine,” she said. “I just had a chill.”
He nodded and led her on. When she reached the car, she looked over her shoulder at the Gotti House again.
Paolo was gone.
CHAPTER TEN
Giacomo Porcelli was, as his name suggested, a very portly man. His belt seemed ready to snap at any moment from the struggle of containing his considerable girth. Nevertheless, he moved with the energy of a man half his size, shaking Lauren’s and Father Emilio’s hands vigorously as they walked into his office.
“Good evening, Miss Lauren, Father Carbone. It’s lovely to finally meet you. I had a feeling our paths would cross soon.”
“Thank you for taking the time to see us so late,” Lauren replied. “We won’t keep you long.”
“Nonsense,” Giacomo replied with a genial smile. “I am at your disposal whenever you need me. If I can help you find those who have committed murder and give the father a chance to redeem their souls before they are sentenced to hellfire, then it is my duty as a Catholic to be available whenever I am needed.”
Lauren wasn’t particularly interested in the murderer’s souls, but she smiled politely. “Thank you again. So, I understand that no autopsy was performed?”
“Not as such,” Giacomo replied. “The bodies were checked for occult symbols or markings and cleansed in a specially prepared bath, but there was no cutting and no examination to check for drugs or other toxins.” He reddened slightly and said, “I don’t approve of the lack of thoroughness myself, but the Holy See is reluctant to abandon tradition to modernity, I’m afraid.”
Lauren suppressed her irritation. “Did you notice anything unusual about the bodies at all?”
“Well, Father Vincenzo is—was—circumcised according to his medical records, but the body we received was no longer circumcised.”
Lauren blinked in shock. “You’re saying that it wasn’t Father Vincenzo who was murdered?”
“Oh no, it was certainly him,” Giacomo insisted. “When I noticed that he wasn’t circumcised, I…” he glanced out of the window of his office and lowered his voice. “Well, I wasn’t supposed to do this, but I reached out to a friend of mine in the National Police and sent him an impression of Father Vincenzo’s fingerprints. He confirmed them to be those of Father Vincenzo.”
“It is not unheard of for exorcists to experience immaculate healing during an exorcism,” Father Emilio explained. “Such healing is usually reserved only for the exorcised subjects, but there have been cases where the exorcist and even the witnesses were healed of ailments and infirmities. The Holy Spirit works in mysterious ways, and if this demon really was as strong as Father Vincenzo feared, then it’s possible that enough of our Father’s power was called on that the effects were greater than normal.”
Giacomo bowed. Lauren pursed her lips. She had suspended a lot of disbelief for her work with the Vatican and had a lot more of her beliefs challenged, but immaculate healing? It would be one thing if a scar faded or a cut stopped bleeding, but for his foreskin to grow back? That sounded like something out of a bad skin flick. Most likely, his medical record was just inaccurate.
“Anything else unusual? What about on Father Grigoriy?”
"Nothing on him," Giacomo replied. "Although if he had an injury that wasn't on his medical record, I wouldn't have known to look for it."
“Right,” Lauren said, failing to keep the irritation from her voice. “Well, if there’s anything else you can think of, please give us a call.”
“Of course,” he said, “I’m truly sorry I couldn’t do more to help.”
When they left his office, Father Emilio said, “Lauren, I have a meeting with Cardinal Bertolli. You can take the car. I’ll have someone drive me to the hotel later.”
“You don’t want me to go with you to the meeting?”
“No, thank you,” he said. “This is a private meeting between members of the order, not the Investigative Division.”
“Ah,” Lauren replied. Then, concerned, she added, “They’re not assigning you to an exorcism, are they?”
“No, no, nothing like that,” he said. “When I am on a case with you, I am unavailable as an exorcist.”
“Okay,” she said, “but please make sure someone drives you. Don’t take public transportation. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
He smiled at her and brushed a lock of hair from her face. The gesture reminded her achingly of her own father. “I will be perfectly fine, Lauren. Thank you for your concern. Remember, I was also a member of the Swiss Guard once.”
Lauren returned his smile, but pointed out, “Former servicemen are murdered all the time, Father.”
“True. But I am provoking no demons tonight.”
“Demons come in all forms,” Lauren reminded him. “Not always spiritual.”
“And are you so certain then, as always, that we are dealing with a purely human foe?”
“I think we’re dealing with someone who hates exorcists,” she said, skirting the religious argument, “and now that we know Father Vincenzo was killed after the exorcism, we also know it’s quite possible that the killer might not have a problem killing someone before an exorcism as well.”
He smiled again. “I will be careful, Lauren. You will see me again.”
“I better,” she said.
She left him and headed back to the hotel. It was late, but she wasn’t ready to sleep. They still had no leads in this case, and that wasn’t acceptable. Their killer wasn’t a demon. Whatever else she’d seen, she couldn’t believe that a demon had killed these men and then disappeared to Hell or the Spirit World or to thin air or wherever demons went when they weren’t possessing people. Demons weren’t real, but murderers were. Someone was killing exorcists, and she had a hunch that whoever was doing it didn’t hate the victims specifically but the profession itself. That was why they hadn’t discovered anything when they were following up on friends and family. The killer wasn’t connected to either of the victims.
Or they were just completely missing something obvious, but Lauren didn’t want to allow for that possibility. Not until she had exhausted every last chance.
Nearly a year ago, she and Father Emilio had collaborated with the National Police to investigate a series of murders at convents in the Pescara region. The detective in charge, Pierro Forza, had given Lauren credentials that allowed her to access the National Police’s database. It was a long shot that they still worked, but she could try it. If not, she would just have to wait until the morning when she could call Forza and request new credentials.
She opened her laptop and entered her credentials. They worked, and she released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.
She needed to find this killer. She always did, but this time she felt more motivated than usual. She needed the killer to be found because once he was, then it would be clear that this was once again the work of human evil and not some demon. It would prove to her once and for all that everything she had experienced was the product of her own overactive imagination and not reflective of reality.
She pushed those thoughts away. It wasn’t about her, it was about the victims. Paolo had been talking about a cat, and Bianca was simply nervous when she offered that insane grin. As far as the video on her cell phone, well, it could mean anything.
She stared at the laptop for several minutes before realizing that she hadn’t done anything. What was she looking for? She had logged into the National Policeman’s database, but for what reason? She reddened slightly, realizing that she hadn’t thought of that.
