Page 67 of Pieces of Ash
“She couldn’t keep them, honey. Couldn’t bring them into that life.”
I rest my forehead on Gus’s wiry shoulder and close my eyes.
“I saw her over h-holidays,” I say. “It wasn’t m-much time, but I c-could’ve c-comforted her.”
“Wasn’t your job, Ash. She screwed up a lot, our Tig, but she knew it wasn’t your job to comfort her.”
“She was so alone. I c-could have… I c-could?—”
“No, honey. You couldn’t have done a thing. She made her choices,” says Gus. “Some good, some bad. But you don’t owe the universe any debt because of them.”
For a while, he just rubs my back, and I feel my tears recede in the safe haven of his arms.
“Ash, baby,” he says, his voice gentle, but firm, “I know you feel far away from all that right now, but you’re still in danger.”
I clench my eyes shut because I don’t want to think about it.
“Jock reached out to an old friend,” he says, his voice low, his lips close to my ear. “Someone he knew at the Department of Defense. He put Jock in touch with someone at the FBI. We’re working with a special agent named Jack Simmons.”
“Working with?” I lean back, looking up into my godfather’s eyes.
Gus nods at me, but his expression is bleak. “Ash, that guard you told me and Jock about? Dragon? Could his name have been Dragomir? Dragomir Lungu?”
And even though I told Julian earlier today that an eidetic memory can be a burden, in instances such as this one, it can also be a blessing.
“Yes. That was his name. Definitely.”
“Okay, so Dragomir Lungu emigrated from Moldova seven years ago, sponsored for a work visa by Mosier Raumann. But his trail endsthreeyears ago. No more passport entries or exits, no tax returns, no credit cards, not even a speeding ticket. Nothing. It’s like he disappeared. Or…was murdered. Just like you said. Do you know of any other guards who went missing?”
Murdered.Even though I knew that was probably what happened, it’s chilling to have it confirmed.
“Ash? Honey?”
“I was barely ever at Mosier’s house, and even when I was, I wasn’t allowed near his guards. It was a coincidence that I happened to wake up and see anything that night. I thought I dreamed it.”
“Well, keep thinking,” says Gus. “Your priest is supposed to talk to Mosier later this week, when he returns from Vegas, but Jock’s going to keep digging, just in case Father Joseph can’t change Mosier’s mind about his plans for you. Agent Simmons said that Raumann and his sons are bad men. The FBI’s been trying to build a racketeering case against the family for years.”
While this news doesn’t surprise me, it’s stillnews, in that I’ve never had it confirmed before now.
“If you were up for it, baby doll, you could even be a star witness in putting him away,” Gus adds softly, gauging my reaction. “For murdering Dragomir Lungu.”
Sudden and unexpected chills turn my arms into gooseflesh. “Gus! He’d hunt me down! He’d?—”
Gus drops his hands to my shoulders. “Never. Never, sugar. No one will touch a hair on your head. That’s rule one.”
“How?”
“Witness Security Program.”
“You mean…changing my name? Moving somewhere far away? Hiding? Forever? What about myface,Gus? People recognize my face wherever I go!”
“Easy, Ash. Easy.” Gus pulls me close and rubs my back. “Listen, honey, let’s shelve this for now. I’m going to ask you to trust me again. Can you do that? For Gus-Gus? Jock has it all under control, I promise. I don’t want you to worry. You just…rest a while here. Maybe your Father Joseph can get things ironed out, but if he can’t, Jock’s on the case, okay? That’s all I wanted you to know.”
Gus kisses my forehead, then sits down to make three more napkin roses while I put water and wine glasses at each place.
My nerves are still jumping. I want to change the subject. I want to think about anything else but Mosier.
“Did Julian make these?” I ask, holding up a wineglass with a bright blue stem.
