Luke wasn't there, so I'll try calling him."
"Alright," Scott said, voice quiet, his face obscured in the dim light.
It took several rings before the priest answered. She filled him in briefly, but he was reluctant to discuss the stained glass window, the Bible verses, or any reason why the postcard might be so important to Cy Perelli. There was some shock in his voice over the situation, but he seemed more concerned for Tessa than the truth.
"Leave it alone, Tessa," begged the priest, "We should have taken the window as the warning that it was when it was first delivered."
Tessa chewed her lower lip, her brain searching for answers. "Did the bequest come with anything more direct?"
"What more do you need?"
For a long moment she couldn't say anything, but like countless times before, Tessa pushed the suspicious facts to the side and continued with her original reason for calling. "Christopher Perelli is in town."
"I know, he's been by to see me," Father Luke supplied. "He's worried about Darla."
"Took him long enough, it's been two months."
"Maybe he's just now getting his priorities straight."
She hated his understanding tone, "A little too late, Father, Darla is dead. And so is Kate Russo…I need to talk to Dante."
"Can't help you there. I haven't heard from him for at least a week." The sigh through the line was more fatalistic then sad. "This has hurt so many people, Contessa. Now, you be smart; those shots this afternoon were your warning—take it and walk away."
"Shots? What are you talking about?" the words slowly trickled from her mouth.
There was a second's hesitation, "I heard there was some gunfire at the Tribune tonight."
Obviously that was true, but he wasn't exactly claiming his information came from the 10 o'clock news. She tried to dismiss the paranoia that crept slowly up her spine.
Father Luke's voice was as kind as she'd always remembered. "Tessa, where are you? Why don't you come to the church? You can give the postcard to me. Cy still has some illusions about heaven, he won't hurt me."
"No, it's okay, I'll be fine."
"Go home then, get some sleep."
"Actually, I'm going to leave town for a few days—don't worry about me."
"Where? No, wait. It's probably best to keep your plans to yourself." He sighed before he said, "Call me if you need me."
There was a pause before he added, "Dio sia con te."
"Thanks for the blessing, Father. I think I'm going to need it."
Chapter 9
Communications
" Ha ha ha."
The ticket agent laughed at Scott's joke. He flirted with the woman behind the counter, ignoring Tessa, although he suspected she rolled her eyes at least once. Her barely concealed disdain only egged him on. And in the end, despite originally having only one ticket for tomorrow's flight, Scott managed to flirt his way into two seats in first class on the red-eye.
Five minutes well spent.
"It's always about the pretty face," Tessa commented while opening the ticket jacket and seeing she'd been assigned the window seat. "I'm impressed. Does the Tribune know about this secret skill of yours, Mr. Shameless?"
For a moment he considered a trite denial, but he didn't plan to defend himself. Humor always worked best. Hadn't he just proven that? Turning towards the security gate, Scott leaned conspiratorially towards Tessa. "Now you know how I managed to scoop you. As for Cyndi," he mentioned the ticket agent by name, "all's fair when they want to bill you for luggage—even when you have none."
"And she comes with a name." Tessa again rolled her eyes. "Poor baby," she teased, "flying into the unknown with only the clothes on your back."
"Easy for you to say," he countered. With a gentlemanly gesture, he took her carry-on, rolling the luggage as they walked towards the security check point.
Scott stole a glance at the monitors and checked the time. He'd been right in his earlier prediction—they never would have made it on time had he gone back to his car for
"Alright," Scott said, voice quiet, his face obscured in the dim light.
It took several rings before the priest answered. She filled him in briefly, but he was reluctant to discuss the stained glass window, the Bible verses, or any reason why the postcard might be so important to Cy Perelli. There was some shock in his voice over the situation, but he seemed more concerned for Tessa than the truth.
"Leave it alone, Tessa," begged the priest, "We should have taken the window as the warning that it was when it was first delivered."
Tessa chewed her lower lip, her brain searching for answers. "Did the bequest come with anything more direct?"
"What more do you need?"
For a long moment she couldn't say anything, but like countless times before, Tessa pushed the suspicious facts to the side and continued with her original reason for calling. "Christopher Perelli is in town."
"I know, he's been by to see me," Father Luke supplied. "He's worried about Darla."
"Took him long enough, it's been two months."
"Maybe he's just now getting his priorities straight."
She hated his understanding tone, "A little too late, Father, Darla is dead. And so is Kate Russo…I need to talk to Dante."
"Can't help you there. I haven't heard from him for at least a week." The sigh through the line was more fatalistic then sad. "This has hurt so many people, Contessa. Now, you be smart; those shots this afternoon were your warning—take it and walk away."
"Shots? What are you talking about?" the words slowly trickled from her mouth.
There was a second's hesitation, "I heard there was some gunfire at the Tribune tonight."
Obviously that was true, but he wasn't exactly claiming his information came from the 10 o'clock news. She tried to dismiss the paranoia that crept slowly up her spine.
Father Luke's voice was as kind as she'd always remembered. "Tessa, where are you? Why don't you come to the church? You can give the postcard to me. Cy still has some illusions about heaven, he won't hurt me."
"No, it's okay, I'll be fine."
"Go home then, get some sleep."
"Actually, I'm going to leave town for a few days—don't worry about me."
"Where? No, wait. It's probably best to keep your plans to yourself." He sighed before he said, "Call me if you need me."
There was a pause before he added, "Dio sia con te."
"Thanks for the blessing, Father. I think I'm going to need it."
Chapter 9
Communications
" Ha ha ha."
The ticket agent laughed at Scott's joke. He flirted with the woman behind the counter, ignoring Tessa, although he suspected she rolled her eyes at least once. Her barely concealed disdain only egged him on. And in the end, despite originally having only one ticket for tomorrow's flight, Scott managed to flirt his way into two seats in first class on the red-eye.
Five minutes well spent.
"It's always about the pretty face," Tessa commented while opening the ticket jacket and seeing she'd been assigned the window seat. "I'm impressed. Does the Tribune know about this secret skill of yours, Mr. Shameless?"
For a moment he considered a trite denial, but he didn't plan to defend himself. Humor always worked best. Hadn't he just proven that? Turning towards the security gate, Scott leaned conspiratorially towards Tessa. "Now you know how I managed to scoop you. As for Cyndi," he mentioned the ticket agent by name, "all's fair when they want to bill you for luggage—even when you have none."
"And she comes with a name." Tessa again rolled her eyes. "Poor baby," she teased, "flying into the unknown with only the clothes on your back."
"Easy for you to say," he countered. With a gentlemanly gesture, he took her carry-on, rolling the luggage as they walked towards the security check point.
Scott stole a glance at the monitors and checked the time. He'd been right in his earlier prediction—they never would have made it on time had he gone back to his car for
Similar Books
