Chapter 12 - The Priest Who Buried a Living Woman
Father Matteo Rinaldi had served the mountain parishes around Corleone for almost fifty years.
He had baptized children, buried grandfathers, blessed marriages, and heard confessions from men whose sins could have filled prisons.
Now he had vanished.
Adrian’s people searched three rectories before discovering that Matteo had withdrawn twelve thousand euros in cash from a Palermo bank that morning.
“He’s running,” Elena said.
They were inside Adrian’s temporary operations room at the Caruso villa.
Dominic enlarged a street-camera image.
“He purchased a bus ticket toward Catania.”
Adrian shook his head.
“Too obvious.”
Elena agreed.
“A man who survived around people like Bernardo for fifty years doesn’t leave a clean trail.”
She studied the map.
“What does Matteo care about?”
Dominic answered immediately.
“His sister.”
“Where?”
“Cefalù. Nursing home overlooking the sea.”
Elena grabbed her coat.
Adrian blocked her path.
“You aren’t walking into an unknown location without a security sweep.”
“Adrian.”
“No.”
She stared at him.
He stared back.
Dominic sighed.
“I’ll prepare two cars.”
Two hours later, they reached the nursing home.
Father Matteo was sitting beneath a lemon tree in the courtyard.
He looked unsurprised when Elena approached.
“You have June’s eyes,” he said.
Elena stopped six feet away.
“And you have ten seconds before Adrian starts asking questions less politely.”
Matteo looked toward Adrian.
“I remember you as a boy.”
“I remember you lying over coffins.”
The priest lowered his eyes.
That was answer enough.
Elena sat opposite him.
“My mother.”
Matteo’s hands trembled.
“She survived the fire.”
The world seemed to tilt.
Adrian stepped closer.
Dominic went perfectly still.
Elena heard herself ask, “How long?”
“Three days.”
Her throat closed.
“She was burned badly. Bernardo’s men brought her to a private clinic outside Palermo. They ordered the doctor to keep her alive until she revealed where Antonio had hidden the original shipping deeds.”
Elena’s nails dug into her palms.
“And you?”
“I was summoned to administer last rites.”
“You signed her death certificate.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Matteo looked at her with wet eyes.
“Because your mother begged me to.”
Elena froze.
“She knew they would keep torturing her if they believed she lived. I signed the certificate, bribed an orderly, and moved her under another name.”
Hope and terror collided.
“Where?”
The priest began crying.
“I don’t know.”
Adrian’s voice sharpened.
“That’s not good enough.”
“I swear it. I arranged transport to a convent hospital near Naples. When I went there two months later, she was gone. The sisters said a woman claiming to be family had collected her.”
“What woman?”
Matteo looked at Elena.
“Your aunt.”
Elena recoiled.
“I don’t have an aunt.”
“You did.”
Matteo crossed himself.
“Isabella Caruso. Antonio’s younger sister.”
Dominic whispered a curse.
Adrian looked genuinely stunned.
“You told me every Caruso sibling died.”
“I believed they had,” Dominic said.
Matteo shook his head.
“Isabella disappeared years before the fire. Antonio told everyone she died in Switzerland.”
“Why?” Elena demanded.
The priest glanced around the quiet courtyard.
“Because Isabella betrayed the family.”
“How?”
“She married the enemy.”
A car door slammed beyond the courtyard wall.
Adrian immediately moved his coat aside, exposing the handle of his weapon.
Elena didn’t flinch.
“Who did she marry?”
Matteo leaned forward.
“Vittorio De Luca.”
Dominic turned pale.
Elena noticed.
“Who is Vittorio De Luca?”
Adrian answered.
“A banker.”
“That doesn’t frighten Dominic.”
“He wasn’t just a banker.”
Adrian’s expression became grim.
“He financed half the criminal organizations in southern Europe without ever joining one. Governments collapsed while De Luca made money from both sides.”
Matteo reached inside his robe.
Adrian’s hand moved toward his gun.
The priest slowly produced a brass key.
“Your father gave me this the night before the fire.”
Elena accepted it.
A number was engraved into the stem.
“Where does it go?”
“Palermo Central Station.”
A suppressed gunshot cracked.
Father Matteo jerked backward.
Blood spread across his white collar.
Adrian dragged Elena behind the stone planter as another bullet shattered the courtyard window.
“Sniper!” Dominic shouted.
Security men scattered.
Elena crawled toward Matteo.
The priest’s breathing became wet and shallow.
“Who tore the letter?” she demanded.
His lips moved.
She leaned closer.
“Isabella.”
Then Father Matteo died beneath the lemon tree.
Adrian’s men found the sniper position five minutes later.
Empty.
Only one object remained.
A silver coin placed carefully on the stone ledge.
One side showed a crown.
The other showed a wolf.
Dominic stared at it.
“The De Luca mark.”
Elena closed her hand around the brass key.
May you like
Someone had just murdered a priest to stop her from discovering what waited in locker 317.
Which meant she was definitely opening it.
