CHAPTER 11

SARAH

Three days are spent the way I always assumed they would be. Church in the Dome on Sunday. Cooking with the women. Sewing with the women. Avoiding the gaze and presence of the men. Timothy drives me where he’s told I need to go. Sometimes I stand by Daddy’s locked office door, listening. The veil came off yesterday—three days after my father was put in the ground—but the mourning dress remains.

Sometimes, I see Connor outside. Sometimes I don’t. This afternoon, the young one Dario said was borrowed from the DiLustros—Remo—has been standing at the bus stop, letting the buses go by one after the other. He came with Carmine and Vinny. I miss their humor with each other and their relaxed guardianship with me, but only Remo stayed.

In my room at night, I make maps to figure out where Dario is. Left, right, quick left. If I made those same turns on the floor above, where would I be?

I count it out when I’m there and land in the rectory kitchen. Convinced he’s under my feet, I finger the diamond ring in my pocket and speak to him. I tell him it’ll be okay. I tell him I’m working on it. I try to believe it.

When Massimo sends someone for me, I’m not brought to his new spot in Daddy’s old office, but that little security room in the basement. Sam-with-the-goatee leaves. It’s just me, sneaking glances at the screens, and Massimo, leaning on Daddy’s cobra cane.

All the cells are empty and lit from corner to corner, except one that’s very dark. In the cone of dim light, a pair of feet dangle off the end of the bed.

“Find out where he has them.” Massimo’s lit by blue light.

“He’s not going to tell me right off, and not in so many words.”

“Do your best.” He clears his throat. “There’s also something else.”

“Okay?”

“He might also say a time, or a number you don’t understand. Don’t ask about it, but see if you can get more.”

“How am I supposed to do one without the other?”

“By shutting up long enough to listen.”

Of course. My one and only job.

“Does it have to do with our women?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about it. He’s telling me something.” He glances at me for a moment before looking at the screen again. “Do whatever you have to. Whatever he says.”

“Then you need to shut the cameras.”

He looks back at me with a raised eyebrow.

“Men are weak in places you know goddamn well you don’t want to see.”

“Your language.”

“I talk like a man so you’ll take me seriously. No cameras.”

“Fine.” He flicks a few switches. The monitors go black. Dario’s feet disappear.

“Thank you.”

With his thumbprint, he opens the door to the hallway of cells and steps aside so I can pass—but I don’t walk out just yet.