Page 112 of Broken

“No. She attended communion at my church yesterday… today? What day even is it? But she was there.”

The cops share a look, but it’s Bianchi who says, “God sent her to protect you, Father. Who knows what might have happened if she hadn’t distracted Corelli.”

“He wasn’t the kind of man you confront,” Esposito agrees, his tone sharp. “You should have come to us from the start.”

“The seal of confession cannot be broken,” I reassert. “I could only urge him to go to thecarabinieri. He wouldn’t.” Fatigue hits me. “I’m tired, my sons. Is there anything more you need from me?”

Esposito pulls a face. “Father, did you know about the mule operation Corelli was running?”

“Si. I knew about it. Mostly that, on the days he paid them, he gave them just enough to stave off their hunger but never enough to find shelter for the night.”

“Can you give us any names?”

“The second the police were around Gianni’s body, you and I both know anyone who might have any pertinent information scattered in the wind. I have names, but they don’t deserve to be in trouble. Especially not if it leads them to Gianni’s end.”

“The police were at Remo’s this evening because we gained enough ground in a case against Corelli. We Caponed him, but it wouldn’t have gotten him off the streets forever.” Bianchi grimaces. “No one will say it, but you did the city a favor.”

His candor has me blinking. “Someone else will take his place.”

“Someone’s always there to plug in the gap,” he concurs, “but we can hope they’re not as good as Corelli was at hiding their tracks.”

“I’ll pray for it,” I rasp, meaning it. Just because the priesthood is no longer my calling, doesn’t mean I’ve lost my way completely.

Esposito eyes the bandages on my stomach. “Have you spoken with a doctor yet?”

“No. I only just woke up.”

Bianchi murmurs, “I’ll inform the medics you’re awake, Father.”

The officers share a look. Esposito nods and Bianchi leaves, but after the door closes, he murmurs, “God was certainly on your side, Father.”

“W-What do you mean?”

“Clean cut, straight through the gut.” He taps a place on his abdomen. “Didn’t hit a single organ, but you bled like a pig for a while. Someone was definitely watching over you?—”

The door opens and a doctor strides in, a scowl on her face. “Have you been questioning my patient before I’ve even had a chance to check him over?”

Esposito raises his hands. “We’re going.”

Her glare is ferocious as is her declaration: “Good.”

“We’ll be in touch, Father.”

Eyes wide, I try to appear what I’m not—innocent. “Will I be charged…?” It pulls on my many wounds to make the sign of the cross, but I do it because it’s expected of me.

“No. It was self-defense, but you’ll need to come in and make a statement, and if you could get those names to us, I’d appreciate it. If you could also spread the word that we’re not interested inwhatthey were carrying for him, but details on their operation, it would be a kindness.”

“Of course, my son. I shall try my best.”

He nods, but his tone darkens. “There might be repercussions after today, Father.”

His statement has me shrugging. “If they come knocking on my door, there’s nothing I can do.”

I doubt Corelli’s grunts or successor will be interested in me, but Esposito’s right to caution me. In my position, I’d be safe, but I don’t intend on being a priest for long. The cassock won’t protect me then.

Espositopurses his lips. “We’re here for you, Father. Not all of us are in someone’s pocket.”

“I never doubted it, my son.” I cut them both a look. “You’ll be in my prayers.”

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