Sinners and Saints

Sinners and Saints Chapter 1 - Would I Lie to You

And he's also my mark.  I know it.  Jojo says that calling them a "mark" dehumanizes them and makes me sound like I'm an assassin in one of Tom Clancy's books.  She prefers to call them "potential boyfriends."  It's an old argument; both of us believing the other is wrong.  But regardless of what you call him, mark, John, assignment, contract, the fact of the matter is he's my next conquest.  I smile to myself and dig around in Dad's bag for the gadget I know is in there.  When I find it, I close the Wrangler up and walk over. 

"Let me guess," I smile, "Valet joy-ride gone wrong?" 

"Uh, yeah," he swallows nervously, "You won't say anything, will you?" 

"Don't worry," I chuckle and brush his arm, "I think I can help you out."  I set the code-reader box on the car and open my phone, waiting for the app to load and read the transmission.  Unlock codes are technically off-limits to anyone but a certified lock-smith or mechanic, but Dad had his ways and the clunky computer interface he used has been upgraded to the mobile world. 

A few seconds later, a code appears and I tap it out and hit send.  The doors pop open with a satisfying click. 

"Wow, thanks," he says, "I...uh ...don't have much on me.  What do I owe you?" 

I pull the box off the hood and smile at him again, "I think we can work out an arrangement."

Fifteen minutes later, I walk out of the convenience store bathroom, shaking my head.  He really was just a kid, but a kid with a really troubled past.  The store is empty of other customers and I grab a water and pay quickly before he has time to come out of his daze, dress and catch up with me.  Flashing the clerk a smile as I pay, I walk out and take the Jeep as far and fast away as I can. 

Outside of Jojo's house, I pause and log into the church's private VPN on my phone through voice commands. 

"Private email to Father Jonas.  Reference file Bartholomew, Edward, 15112 Magnolia Street, Miami, Florida.  Age eighteen." 

"Accessing," the VOIP interface answered, "File attached." 

"Assignment complete.  Subject sexual-identity-confused and mistrustful of the Church.  Age eight to thirteen, sexually-abused by one Father Laurence at Saint Anne's.  Graphic details omitted, but subject remembers four other boys — Dominic, Joseph, Daniel and Martin, who were also abused.  Last names not known.  Extreme caution advised." 

"Transmission captured," the interface replies after a few seconds, "End transmission?" 

"End transmission," I confirm, stomach roiling.  If we were face to face, I would have given Father Jonas an earful over the guilt and confusion that poor boy carried around.  But this is official record, and subject to not just church, but nefarious scrutiny.  A very sensitive area all around.  Best to keep things factual. 

I log out and tuck my phone in my purse before locking the Jeep and heading to the front door with broken down pet carriers in my arms.  I can already hear Petals and Gracie mewing for me, knowing I never visit without a treat or two in my pocket.

"Ugh!" my sister sits down on her couch in a huff.  Cat hair raises and catches the air-currents, making me sneeze, despite the fact that I'm not allergic to cats.