Page 271 of Mafia Kings: Valentino

The chapel itself was small, maybe 40 feet wide by 80 feet long, with a cross on the top and a small bell tower on the back.

The doors were all wood – dark, weathered brown with iron door knockers.

There were stone steps up to the main door. I walked up and tugged at the handle.

Surprisingly, the door was open. Or maybe not surprisingly at all. It was a house of God out in the middle of nowhere; maybe it was open at all hours to anyone who needed Him.

I opened the door and walked inside. I’d expected it to be dark inside, but there was a beautiful stained glass window of Christ on the cross. People I assumed were Mary and several apostles looked up at him in anguish.

The sunlight filtered through the glass, turning everything in the chapel to red, orange, and yellow.

The walls were lined with faded tapestries of the stations of the cross. Other than those and a few small statues of saints, there wasn’t much decoration.

The floors were polished wood. Ten rows of uncomfortable-looking, rough-hewn pews lined a central aisle.

The altar was a podium on top of a short, raised platform with steps leading up to it.

To the left of the platform was a table with dozens of small candles. After a thousand people lighting and praying over them, the melted wax had covered every inch of the surface.

Directly to my right, there was a wooden confessional booth with two chambers: one for the priest and the other for the person confessing. Both doors were closed.

The air was still and smelled like ancient wood and candle wax.

Everything was as silent as a tomb.

So far as I could tell, no one had been in here for days.

I looked at my watch.

11:57 AM.

“Caterina?” I called out quietly.

There was a slight noise behind me, and my heart leapt.

I turned to see her in the doorway of the church.

“Val,” she said as she gave me a soft, sad smile.

95

Caterina

When I left Valentino in Ortigia, the last image I had was of him standing in the street –

Next to the woman he was going to marry.

I hadn’t wanted to see her –ever.

I’dtoldhim that.

As long as I didn’t know what she looked like, it was like I could pretend she didn’t exist.

That she was just a story.

That somehow the whole situation wasn’t real.

But as soon as I met her…

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