Chapter 22

© Copyright 2007 by Elizabeth Delayne



Nicole stared at her father, looking from the gun in his hand to the familiar face she’d once adored. Here he was, older now. Same unkept grey hair, same color of eyes.

Still, the eyes were different now. Not softer ... but faded. Not faded in color, but faded in ... life. As if the normal rush of living had simply left him ... He’d always been one with plans, with drive to do more, with ideas. He’d always seemed energized by some extreme factor, ready to move on before the job was done.

For most of her life she had looked at him through eyes wanting. She’d wanted him to love her. She’d looked at him with eyes of a girl.

Now she saw the man, the criminal.

He held the gun without remorse. His eyes were tired. He looked old. He’d come again wanting something from her—wanting her to get something for him. He’d come wanting.

He hadn’t come wanting her.

He’d just showed up. Again. He would continue to show up. He would continue to plague her, to draw her into his web. Whether the greed was fading or not, he was still seeking more.

For the first time she faced the truth. Faced what Jason must have realized. Joe Rossi hadn’t stopped with Mrs. Brown.

Even if the jewels were all he wanted this time, he would come again. Even when he got them. He would come back. Again. And again.

If she couldn’t stop him, she would have to leave. But where would she go?

And would she ever be free?

“What are you doing?”

Papa—the word, so simple and aged with time, was still on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn’t say it. It was what she’d called him for so long, but that’s not who he was to her anymore. Not like this. Not standing there with a gun.

Pointed at her ... and her family.

She knew what family was now. And it wasn’t someone who goaded you and led you to do the unthinkable.

“What about mama?”

The words just poured out of her. She’d never asked. Never put her mother between them.

“What?” he asked. His hand trembled as he turned to gun on her. On his daughter. “What did you say?”

“Mama ... Amelia,” she said, using the name he had used, the name he had loved her by.

“Don’t bring your mother into this. This isn’t about her.”

“But this is not what she would have wanted.”

“What she would have wanted?” he asked, yelling now. “And you know?”

“She wanted ... amore gioia, pace, pazienza ... bontà,” the memory just poured from her–the words, some type of prayer in Italian, but the translation coming as well. Her mother had blessed her with those words daily. Be a daughtor of these great things, she had said. Love, joy, peace ... goodness.

“You? You can quote those words to me? You know nothing of bontà girl.”

“I knew mama. So did you,” Nicole said fervently. “You knew her.”

“She was bontà. She was always. But she wanted more. Always more.”

“No,” Nicole said, for the first time firming herself up against his lies—or at least, what she knew to be lies. “She had dreams. Everyone has dreams. But she was content. She was always content. She was gentle and she was kind. She wouldn’t have wanted you or me to break the law. And we did. We did. Over and over again.”

“And she would have wanted you here, turning me over to the police, forsaking your family?”

“You forsook your family when you used Dusty to get me to take from Mrs. Brown.”

“You wanted it or you wouldn’t have done it.”

Nicole stared at her father. A break of silence fell for the first time over the room since their exchange began. Her lips trembled.

“I wanted ...” she said slowly ... “for Dusty not to have to live having done what I had done. I don’t want Dusty to turn into you. I wanted for him the blessing of amore gioia, pace, pazienza ... bontà. I didn’t have it.”

“He’s mine.”

“And so am I. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see that I’ve always been your daughter. I’ve just always wanted you to be my ... my papa.”

* * *

Gabriel resisted the urge to release the tension with a bellow of frustration and instead curled the fingers of his free hand around the wheel. His other hand held the cell phone that he had been listening to ever since receiving Nicole’s call.

Beside him, Jason rode in silence—where Gabriel had cut him off from speaking a mile back. There was nothing either one of them could do. But Jason prayed. His hands gripped together, like a vice on sanity, he prayed.

They were all there. And Gabriel wasn’t even sure where they were. The last he had heard from them they were on their way home.

They had to be at Trisha’s by now. So that was where he headed.

He pictured it. A top floor apartment, surrounded by more apartments and trees. Lots of woods.

Lots of people.

And Joe Rossi was there ...

He concentrated on Nicole’s voice coming through the cell phone.

Don’t goad him he wanted to yell. Just delay him.

But he kept it inside. He had to be calm, for Nicole. And for Jason. He didn’t need his friend flying off into some misplaced heroic rage.

Gabriel kept his sirens off, even as he sped past a car on a two lane road and whipped back into his lane just in time. The whoosh of the semi careened past him.

No sirens.

No time.

He forced himself to slow down as he turned into Trisha’s apartment complex and cut the engine. There he was torn. Needing to maintain silence, he’d resisted calling in for backup. He’d turned off his radio, connecting him to the world.

Disconnect his line with Nicole or go without back up? He didn’t have time to process the decision. Neither was good enough. He had to take a chance.

He got out, set the phone on the roof of his SUV, then got back in and finally turned on his radio. Then he glanced at Jason. “You will stay back? You hear me? You will stay back. You will not give your father a reason to pull any kind of stunts in front of you. You’re the trigger Jason. You stay back.”

“It’s Trisha and Nicole.”

“And he knows it. If you want to protect them, you stay back. You don’t know what he’ll do if you’re there to witness it. Pray Jason. Use your position to pray. Don’t let your father use you as an excuse.”

He picked up the receiver.

“Swanson,” he said into his handset. “Do you copy?”

He waited until he received the response, then began to bark out orders. Need backup. Come quickly, without sirens, without noise. Get everyone you can, make sure they follow orders.

He looked around, saw some children playing in the grassy area between apartment complexes.

With one last glance at Jason he drew his gun and said, “I’m going in.”

And he said a prayer. He said a prayer because that was all he had.

There was no control. Nothing he could do to protect them. They were in there with a mad man.

Just as his mother had been.



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