Page 138 of Don't Say a Word
“You’re quiet,” Uncle Rafe said.
“Just thinking everything through.”
I quickly assessed the property. There was only one way in and out—the long driveway. Even in an emergency, there would be no scaling up the steep mountainside unless you were an expert climber and had appropriate equipment. The other houses in the area were no less elegant—except for one columned monstrosity at the base of the mountain that was a cross between a Greek palace and antebellum mansion.
It wasn’t like I expected the need for a quick escape—this was a dinner party with a lawyer, a priest, and a politician. I almost laughed—was this the beginning of a bad joke?
“Alina truly appreciates your help,” he said. “This has been a difficult time for her.”
“I think I know what happened,” I said. “Proving it isn’t going to be easy.”
“Sometimes, just knowing the truth can bring peace.”
“I want justice.”
Uncle Rafe glanced upward and I knew exactly what he was thinking. God would enact His own justice, that it wasn’t up to us. That was true, but I wouldn’t sleep well knowing Elijah’s killer got away with it.
“I want earthly justice,” I clarified. “Because if we don’t stop these people, more kids are going to die. I’m tired of it, Uncle Rafe. And it only seems to get worse.”
He put his hand on mine. He didn’t have to say anything for me to regain my calm. Sometimes, I see a halo around Uncle Rafe’s head.
We got out of the car and he said, “You look nice.”
“Mom made me,” I said with a grin.
My mother had sent me a text to not wear jeans. I knew what she meant—wear a dress—but honestly I wasn’t a fan. That there was no place to conceal a weapon was only a small issue. The biggest issue was shoes. I don’t like heels. I pick shoes solely for comfort. I didn’t want to think about my feet, and if my feet were sore or my toes cramped I would be miserable. The low-heeled boots I loved were scuffed and well-worn. So I had slipped on strappy flat black sandals and hoped I didn’t have to chase anyone.
I did dress up, but for comfort in a knee-length stretchy black skirt and a loose-fitting white blouse which hid my gun in the holster at the small of my back. The Glock 42 wasn’t my favorite sidearm, but it was the smallest Glock on the market and one of the easiest to use and conceal. I’d added a blazer and looked like a butler or a bodyguard, even wearing the small diamond earrings that were a high school graduation present from my parents.
Manny Ramos answered the door.
“It is good to see you again, Margo. Father Rafe.”
He shook my hand, then Uncle Rafe’s.
“Thank you for having us,” Uncle Rafe said. “Your home is as breathtaking as I remember.”
The look on my face must have told Rafe I was surprised he’d been here before because he said to me, “Manny is a longtime parishioner.”
“Though I have been bad about attending regular Sunday Mass,” Ramos said.
If he was looking for Uncle Rafe to tell him it was fine, he was looking at the wrong priest. Rafe just smiled and said, “I hope to see you soon.”
“Father, a drink? Ava says it’s your birthday, so surely you can enjoy a glass of wine, or perhaps a tequila? I have several to choose from.”
He waved his hand toward the interior of the house and we followed.
“Wine would be nice, thank you,” Rafe said.
“I’ll wait until dinner,” I said.
We walked through the stunning home. On one side were towering windows that looked out on a large outdoor living area featuring an infinity pool lit up with purple lights and a breathtaking view of Phoenix.
On the other side of the great room were windows that looked out at the rocky mountainside, the landscape lit with perfectly placed bulbs highlighting plants, desert flowers, and a huge saguaro cactus. A multilayered patio had been created among the rocks, but I couldn’t see how to access it. An outdoor fireplace, comfortable chairs, and small waterfall dropping into what I assumed was a pond completed the area.
The furniture was a bit too ornate for my taste, though classy, and the contemporary-style structure complemented the old-world furnishings. It was a unique and comfortable blend of old and new.
We followed Ramos to the bar and I said, “Where’s my mom?”
