Acts of Mercy

TWENTY-SEVEN

While a casual observer might have assumed that his singular focus on the altar during Drew Novak’s funeral had been an expression of either devotion or grief-possibly both-Steve Molino’s focus had actually been on trying to figure out how to get to Sam DelVecchio in the midst of all these people. It would be a challenge, he knew, but the time had come, and he had to do what he had to do. When the mass ended and the coffin was being wheeled down the center aisle accompanied by incense and six pallbearers-Drew’s brothers and cousins-he looked across the way and met Sam’s eyes. He saw the cold flash of recognition there, saw the hard resolve in Sam’s face, felt the bold challenge, and he knew it would end today for one of them.

He preferred that it be Sam.

Well aware that Sam wasn’t going to do anything that could end with someone else getting hurt, Steve took his time easing out of the church. He was halfway to the door when he figured it out. The woman Sam had introduced to him the other day had slipped out the side door, which told Steve several things. One, that she was one of several agents in the church, so the others must be covering different exits; two, that she’d be easier to take than Sam; and three, that Sam would come to find her, thereby eliminating Steve’s problem of how to get to Sam. Sam would come to him.

He leaned close to his wife’s ear and whispered, “I’ll meet you at the cemetery.”

“All right,” she replied. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stay for the entire graveside service, though. The mass lasted longer than I expected. I told work I’d be back before closing.”

“Good thing we drove separately.” He kissed her on the cheek. “See you later at home.”

Steve glanced back to locate Sam in the crowd, and was pleased to see that his ear was being bent by Josie Singletary. He knew from experience that once she latched on to you, she was like a remora. He ducked his head and made his way forward in the crowd, then shot out the side door. The chances were very good that Sam didn’t see the move.

“Hi,” he called to the agent he thought of as “Sam’s woman.” “Fiona, was it? I’m Steve Molino. We met at the football field the other day.”

“Oh. Right. Steve.” She clearly did not wish to be distracted. Good, he thought. Her attention was divided.

“How long will you be staying in town?” he asked as he moved toward her.

“What?” She only half turned. “I’m not really sure.”

“Wrong answer,” he said as he jammed the barrel of his handgun into the center of her back. “The correct answer is, probably for eternity. Unless, of course, Sam and I work out a little deal. But we can discuss those details later.”

She started to turn and he rammed the gun into her right kidney.

“Don’t be stupid, Fiona. You’re going to toss that Glock onto the ground.”

She looked into his eyes, then did as she was told. Without taking his eyes off her, he reached down and grabbed her gun. Sticking it into his belt, he waved his own gun and said, “Turn around. That’s good. Now walk as if you and I are chatting in a friendly manner. Smile, damn it. And do not doubt for one second that I would hesitate to blow a hole in you big enough for Father O’Malley to drive a golf cart through.”

She walked slightly ahead of him, along the narrow path that ran next to the church, and when they came to a parking lot he told her to turn to the left and head for the gray sedan parked at the opposite end. Beyond the lot was a playground.

“Don’t think about making a run for it,” he told her. “Because if you think I wouldn’t shoot into a crowd of kids you’d be sadly mistaken. I’ve waited too long for this. Want to know how long?”

“Sure.”

He opened the door and shoved her in. “Twenty-six years.”

He pointed to her handbag. “Hand that to me. Slowly.”

She did as she was told.

“Now strap yourself in.”

When she’d done so, he walked around to the driver’s side and opened the door. Setting her bag on his seat, he looked through it, tossing her phone over his shoulder. It bounced off the hood of another car and slid across the macadam. Then he tossed her bag onto the back seat and got behind the wheel.

“I know cell phones can be traced,” he told her. “Maybe you were hoping that Sam would be able to track you down, play the hero? Well, believe me, Sam’s no hero.”

He drove several miles out of town, turning only once, onto a dirt road that led into thick woods.

“I’m trying to decide which would hurt him more,” he said after he turned off the engine. “Do I want to bury you alive, then watch Sam frantically try to find you before it’s too late? And then when he shows up, kill him? Or maybe I should just ask him if he’d take your place in the box. What do you think, Fiona? Which would be worse?”

“I really don’t know,” she said, and he laughed out loud.

“Well, we need to keep in mind that today’s theme is bury the dead.”

He got out of the car and came around to her side, then motioned with the gun for her to get out and stand facing the car. His eyes never leaving her, he reached into the back seat and brought out a length of rope. After tying her hands behind her back, he turned her around.

“Isn’t that the way you law enforcement people do it? Secure the suspect’s hands behind their back to take away any use of their arms to attack you or to escape?” He drew closer to her and sniffed at her hair. “You smell good, Fiona. Does Sam like that scent?” He ran the barrel of the gun down the front of her shirt, his eyes staring into hers. “You’re good, you know that? You never even blinked. I like that. Shows you’ve got balls. I’ll bet Sam likes that, too. He always admired the spunky girls.”

He grabbed her by the arm and turned her toward the trees.

“We’re going to take a stroll through the woods.”

“Why Sam?” she asked.

“Because he ruined my life,” Steve said matter-of-factly, “and now I’m going to ruin his.”

Sam stood outside the church, searching for Fiona on the crowded sidewalk. He saw Luke, and waved him over.

“I know who the killer is,” he said quietly. “We’re going to take him at the cemetery.”

“Who is he?”

“His name is Steve Molino. I don’t see him right now, but he’ll be relatively easy to spot out in the open. His wife is a tall pretty redhead.”

“There’s a woman with hair like that behind you and off to the right,” Luke said. “She’s talking to two men. Describe Molino.”

“My age and height, brown hair thinning at the front, average build.”

“The one guy with her is in his sixties, the other is about five eight. What’s he wearing, did you notice?”

“Dark suit, white shirt, like nearly every other guy here.”

“Yeah, that narrows it down. Did you notice the tie?”

“It was dark red. Or maroon.”

“I don’t see a red tie.”

“He knows I know, Luke,” Sam told him.

“You sure?”

Sam nodded. “But he acted like he knew I wasn’t going to move inside the church.”

“So he must have bolted as soon as he got outside. Why don’t I just follow the wife to the car and see if we can nab him there?” Before Sam could respond, Luke said, “By we I mean me and my fellow federal officers. That we did not include thee.”

“Spoilsport.”

“If you’re nice to me, maybe I’ll give you a few minutes alone with the guy.”

The crowd began to thin as the hearse and the cars carrying the family pulled away from the curb. Sam watched as the other mourners got into their cars and fell in line with the procession. He did not find Steve Molino in any of them.

“Luke, do you see Fiona?” Sam asked.

Luke made a 360 degree turn. “No. She’s not here.”

Sam glanced over the diminished crowd. “Steve’s not here either, and I didn’t see him get into a car.” He took his phone from his pocket and turned it back on, then dialed Fiona’s cell. There was no answer. “This is not good.”

“There’s a lot out back,” Sam recalled. “And I think a park. She was seated on that side of the church. Maybe she went out that door and decided to look out back.”

They hurried down the walk that separated the church from the rectory, and walked through the cars on the lot.

“This is weird,” Sam told Luke as they went toward the playground. “I don’t like this.”

He speed-dialed her number again. They were almost to the end of the lot when he heard what sounded like her ring tone. Sam stopped and looked around. The sound was coming from behind a Volkswagen Rabbit that was parked next to the fence. He stepped around the car and saw the phone on the ground. He knelt down, picked it up and scanned through the numbers.

“This is her phone. Here, the last call is from me.” He looked up at Luke. “I called her right before I went into the church.”

Luke glanced around anxiously.

“If he hurts her, I will tear him apart,” Sam said.

“No problem, man,” Luke told him. “I’ll hold him down. But first we have to find him.”

Sam fought back the anger and tried to keep his focus on where Steve would have taken Fiona, and how to get her back without getting her killed.

“He’s going to make me come to him,” Sam said.

“We don’t know for certain that he’s taken her, though it appears likely. We don’t know for sure that he isn’t at the cemetery and that Fiona is with one of the other guys.”

“She wouldn’t have tossed her phone away. Give me your car keys.” Sam held out his hand. “Catch up with the others and see if she’s with them. Let me know if she is. If not, get to the cemetery and see if you can locate Molino. If he isn’t there, get his cell phone number from his wife and have it tracked ASAP.”

“What are you going to do?” Luke hesitated, as if reluctant to hand over the keys.

“I think I know where he’s taken her.”

“What if you’re wrong?”

Ignoring the question, Sam took the keys and broke into a run. He couldn’t explain to Luke how he knew. It would simply take too long. “Where’s your car?”

“It’s out front. But Sam, I don’t think-”

“Call me from the cemetery, let me know if he’s there. I could be wrong… but I don’t think I am.”

Sam trotted off to find the car, and Luke followed.

“Sam, at least tell me where you’re going.”

They got to the car and Sam unlocked it. “I’ll draw you a map from the cemetery. What do you have to write with in here?”

He leaned into the car and came out holding a bag from a fast food restaurant, then searched his pockets for a pen.

Luke handed him one, and Sam quickly sketched a map. “It’s easy enough to find.”

He handed over the bag and got into the car.

“You think he took her to this lake?”

Sam nodded. “If he isn’t at the cemetery, this is where he’s most likely to be. This way, we have both places covered. But if he isn’t at either, Fiona’s a dead woman.”

He sped from the lot and took the back roads where he could make up the most time. His heart pounding wildly, he knew that today would be the day when one of them-either he or Steve-would deliver retribution for the sins committed by the other.

A mile from the lake, his cell phone rang.

“We’re at the cemetery but Molino isn’t here,” Luke told him. “The office is already working on tracking his cell, but you know that’s going to take a while.”

“Follow the map I gave you, but come up to the lake very quietly through the woods. I will try to take him myself, but I’ll feel a whole lot better knowing that backup is coming.”

“We’re on our way now, Sam.”

Sam turned onto the dirt road.

“Luke, listen, if when you get here… if we’re both down…” Up ahead, a gray sedan was parked under a tree, but neither Steve nor Fiona was in sight. “If he gets us both…”

“If either of you are down, I can promise you that this son of a bitch won’t make it out of the woods in one piece.”

Through a clearing, the lake lay straight ahead, the afternoon sun sparkling bright on the water.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Steve noted. “At least, in summer, with the sun shining down, when the water’s warm, it’s nice. In the winter, when it’s frozen over, it’s a different story.”

Fiona walked in front of him, trying to go as slowly as possible without getting another jab to her kidneys. The last one had hurt. Of course, a sore back was the least of her problems at the moment.

As soon as she saw the lake, she knew who he was, and why he’d brought her to that place. He’d want a showdown with Sam there. She knew, too, that Sam would figure it out, and he’d come for her. She just had to stall for enough time for him to get there.

“You know I was kidding about the coffin, right? I wouldn’t bury you alive. At least, I hadn’t planned on it. After all, the last act is bury the dead, not the living.”

“I guess that makes me one lucky girl.”

He laughed. “Do you swim, Fiona?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll bet you’re a strong swimmer.”

“I get the job done.”

“I’ll just bet you do.”

They reached the edge of the lake and he looked around.

“Perfect. There are no boaters, no one fishing or swimming today. You know why, Fiona?” Without waiting for her response, he said, “Because everyone in the county is mourning Drew Novak. Everyone’s at the cemetery to give him a big send-off. Because, you know, Drew was one hell of a guy, everyone loved him, and all that.”

“Was Drew here that night?” she asked. “The night your sister drowned?”

“Ah, you know about that, do you? What did Sam tell you?” His face hardened, and for a moment she thought she’d made a mistake in bringing it up. “Did he tell you how he bravely saved his own sister, and let mine die?”

“He told me that your sister was under the ice, that he couldn’t get to her. He said that-”

“Bullshit. He pulled out Eileen first, then Cara Novak. But my sister, he let her drown under there. He could have gone in for her, could have saved her.”

“Why didn’t you?” she asked, and turned to watch his reaction.

“What?” He stopped on the trail and jerked her by one arm. “What did you say?”

“Why didn’t you save her? Why didn’t you try to get her out? Why didn’t you dive in to try to pull her to safety?”

“Sam was there, he was first in line. He pulled out the other two. He put himself first, it was the job of the first in line-”

“But you could have-” she said, stopping abruptly when Sam stepped out of the woods and walked toward them as calmly as another man might walk to his mailbox to pick up the day’s mail. If another man went for his mail with a Glock in his hand.

“No, Fiona, he couldn’t have,” Sam told her. “Because even back then, Steve was a coward.”

Steve spun around, keeping Fiona in front of him, his gun to the side of her neck.

“I see not much has changed over the years, Steve. You’re still hiding behind someone else.”

“Always the hero, Sam. Here to save the fair damsel.” Steve smirked. “I knew you’d come. I thought I’d have to call you but you figured it out all by yourself. I should have known, seeing how you were always the smart one.”

“Seeing you staring up at the windows in the church today made me think of your sister’s funeral mass, of the way you stared at them that day. You never took your eyes off them.”

“I had to look somewhere,” Steve said. “I needed to focus on something. Funny that you should remember that.”

“But this is where this whole mess really started. The night we took the girls skating.” Sam pointed to the lake. “Right out there, remember? You, me, Drew, Vic, Blake-a little pickup hockey game. Who could resist? And the girls were fine, weren’t they? They were playing crack the whip with their friends, having fun. Stumbling around on their skates, screaming their heads off, having a great time of it. So they were fine, didn’t need us to be hanging over them, right?”

The gun in Steve’s hand wobbled slightly, but was still at Fiona’s throat.

“All that screaming, yeah, we heard it, but we thought it was just the girls being little girls. Until someone came over and got in my face and told me.” It surprised Sam to realize it was almost as hard for him to stand there, in that spot, reliving the story, as it must surely be for Steve. “The girls had fallen through the ice. Eileen, Cara, and Tish. We all sort of froze for a moment, remember, Steve? Like what we were hearing couldn’t be real.”

Sam kept his eyes locked with Steve’s. The other man stared back, as if unable to look away.

“Then we all moved at once, flying across the ice to where the girls had fallen in. The ice was too thin to hold us, remember? Remember hearing it crack?” Sam shook his head slowly. “Or maybe not. Were you with us when the ice cracked, Steve? Now that I think back on it, Drew was the one who suggested we make a chain. I was the tallest, so I was first in the chain. Then it was Drew… then Vic…” Sam paused. “Where were you, exactly, in the chain, Steve?”

Steve wet his lips nervously.

“I was there. You know I was there,” Steve snapped.

“Ummm, yeah.” Sam nodded. “About fourth in line, right? Maybe fifth?”

“You guys were taller, like you said. You were stronger, you could have pulled them all out. But you didn’t. You saved Eileen, all right. You saved Drew’s sister. Why couldn’t you have saved mine?”

“Eileen had already gotten herself above the surface of the ice, she was right there when I put my arms out. She was easy to get out. Same with Cara. But Tish was fighting too much, I couldn’t get to her.” He lowered his voice, hoping that speaking more calmly might serve to calm Steve-and maybe himself-just a little.

“You were right there. You could have jumped in,” Steve insisted. “You let her die. You don’t understand how it was after that.” His voice cracked slightly, and Sam was afraid he’d pushed the man too far. He kept his eyes on the gun and on Fiona. Would she know when to move? “My parents blamed me. Everyone blamed me. Nothing was ever the same after Tish…” The words came in a torrent, but he never lowered the gun. “They fought all the time after that. It was as if Tish dying brought out the worst in everyone. My mom and dad divorced, remember? I had to go live in the city with my mom… and nothing was ever right in my life after that.”

Tears ran down his face, but his expression never changed. “You ruined my life, Sam. You saved your own sister and let mine die. But like the Bible says, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. A life for a life.”

Sam assumed he referred to his recent killing spree, and was about to remind him that he’d taken more than one life in return for Tish’s, when Steve added, “A sister for a sister.”

Sam cocked his head to one side, not understanding.

“Oh, you didn’t get that? You really thought Eileen’s death was an accident?” Steve laughed out loud. “Didn’t see that one coming, did you, pal?”

Sam stood stock-still, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d heard.

“And here’s another one you didn’t see coming.” The tears had stopped and a look of sheer demonic glee spread across Steve’s face. “August 15, 2006. You were out of town, as I recall. Your lovely Carly told me so when I rang the doorbell. Of course, she invited me in, since I was an old friend of yours. I was flattered that she remembered me. So many people don’t.” Steve paused, savoring his moment of triumph. “You’ll be proud to know she put up one hell of a fight, Sam.”

The blood drained from Sam’s face, and his finger twitched on the trigger. But he had no shot. From this angle, Fiona was in the way.

“Now say bye-bye to Fiona.” Still smirking, Steve tightened his grip on the gun.

A crack split the air and Steve crumbled, folded at the waist, and went down, the hole in his forehead releasing a torrent of red. He hit the ground face first, the gun still in his hand.

Fiona jumped back as the body fell. “Sam…?”

Sam still held the gun in front of him, still aimed at where Steve had stood.

“Sam?” Fiona went to him, wishing she could put her arms around him.

He met her eyes. “I never suspected, not for a second. My sister… my wife…?”

Over his shoulder, she could see Luke and the others running from the woods.

“Fee, are you all right?” Luke called.

“I’d be better if you’d untie my hands.”

Luke turned her around and pulled the rope loose, and it fell to the ground.

“You are one fine shot, Luke Parrish.”

“Thanks. There was no margin of error. Man, if I’d been off by this much…” He held up his hand; less than an eighth of an inch separated his index finger and his thumb. Luke glanced at Sam, who hadn’t moved. “Sam?” he asked tentatively.

“Sam, give me the gun.” Fiona reached out to him, and he let her take it from his hand. She passed the Glock over to Luke, then put her arms around Sam and just held him.

“What happened?” Luke frowned.

“He did it. Steve killed them both,” Sam told him as if still stunned. “My sister. My wife. I never suspected. All this time, I never had a clue…”