Page 166 of Beautiful Obsessions
Hunting a beaten woman who had crawled through my doors, knocking on death’s door.
The tall man looked toward the confessional.
It stood in shadow, closed and silent.
My body remained relaxed.
My hand found the brass candle snuffer on the small table beside me and rested there casually.
A priest tidying his altar.Nothing more.
“What does she look like?”I asked.
The scarred man’s mouth twitched.“You would know if you saw her.”
“That may be, but I see many people.God sends all kinds to this door.”
The young one laughed under his breath.
“She is dark-haired,” he said.“Mid-twenties.Wearing a blue dress.”
Blue.
Under the blood and rain, I had not noticed the colour.
“Is she dangerous?”I asked.
The scarred man smiled.
“No, Father.”
“Then perhaps you do not need three men to retrieve her.”
A brief silence followed, tight and uncomfortable.
The tall man stepped forward.
“I understand your concern,” he said.“But this is a family matter.”
Family.
Men used that word to justifyeverything.
Murder.Possession.Cruelty.A woman’s fear.
I took one step toward them, drawing their attention with me, away from the confessional.
“Would you like me to call the carabinieri?”I asked.“If a woman is missing and unwell, they should be notified.”
“No,” the tall man said too quickly.
The young one glanced at him.
“No?”I asked, all gentle surprise.
“We have people already searching,” the tall man said.“There is no need to make this official.”
“Of course.”
