Moonstone: Gems of Wolfe Island One

Finally my vision is restored. I take in the face on the other side of the glass. Dark brown hair shaved close to his head. Dark brown eyes and bushy brows that could use a good plucking.

Just like Uncle Bruno’s.

Except Tony was handsome. Really handsome. A young Marlon Brando lookalike.

Not this Tony. This Tony has graying stubble and a scar across his left cheek. His lips are full but chapped. Looking closely, I see the flaky dried skin on them.

I clear my throat and hope my vocal cords are back online. “Hello, Tony.”

“Who are you?” He narrows his eyes. “Fuck, no. Not Katelyn.”

I nod. “It’s me.”

He nearly drops the phone. “Fuck,” he says again.

“I have a question for you,” I say.

“What?” he spits out.

“Why? Why did you do what you did?”

He doesn’t answer right away. I fear he may not, when finally—

“I didn’t want to.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I had no choice.”

“Bull. There’s always a choice.”

“I was selfish,” he says. “It was you or me.”

I don’t know why I’m surprised, but I am. I was holding out a tiny sliver of hope that somewhere inside this man was the Tony who shared his shaved ice with me. The Tony who cheered me on at stickball even though I sucked at it. The Tony who once vowed to marry me when he was seven and I was eight.

Apparently not.

“You got into trouble.”

“Well, duh. I’m in prison, for God’s sake.”

“You weren’t in prison then.”

“Look, I’ve done my penance for that. It cost me my brother.”

“It cost you your cousin, too.”

He looks down. Is that remorse I see in his eyes?

I can’t tell through the plexiglass. It’s not exactly clean. Plus…he looks so different from what I remember. He looks tired. Fatigued. Used up.

I can relate.

“You’re still here,” he finally says.

“No thanks to you. I was rescued by some heroic and honorable people.”

“Good on them.”

“Cut the crap, Tony.” Courage courses through me. A welcome emotion. “Why? Why did it have to be me?”

“Would you rather it have been someone else?”

“Don’t put me on the defensive. I’m not the one who screwed up. I’m not the one behind bars because of my screw-ups.”

“Low blow.”

“Low blow? Really? You had me drugged, kidnapped, raped, hunted, and you’re telling me I dealt a low blow?”

He nearly drops the phone receiver. “What? Hunted?”

“You didn’t know where you sent me? Give me a break.”

“Raped? Hunted? Hell no, Katelyn. Father Jim said you’d be a nanny for some rich people.”

My jaw drops.

Until I regain my composure. For a split second, I almost believed him.

“That’s crap,” I say.

“It’s not crap. I swear to you. He said he had some rich parishioners who needed a nanny and they didn’t want an undocumented person. They wanted a nice girl. He said you’d be taken care of, not harmed.”

“He lied,” I say point blank. “He fucking lied to you, Tony. Or you’re lying to me, because I don’t for a minute think you were gullible enough to believe that horseshit.”

“He’s a priest. Of course I believed him.”

“And you think it’s just normal for priests to advocate drugging women and forcing them into servitude? That works for you?”

“No, I—”

“You needed money Why?”

“I…owed some dangerous people.”

“You were seventeen years old, for God’s sake. Who the hell could you possibly owe?”

“You don’t want to know.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I do want to know. That’s why I’m here. I need to know what was so important that you had to sacrifice me. Your cousin.”

“Second cousin,” he scoffs.

“You think that makes a difference?”

“What do you want from me, Katelyn? An apology? What the fuck would that do?”

Do I want an apology? No. An apology won’t erase what happened.

And then I have an epiphany. Knowing why won’t erase what happened either.

I hang up the phone. “Goodbye, Tony.”

I know he can’t hear me through the plexiglass. I don’t care.

“I’m done here,” I tell the guard.

I jolt as something crashes against the plexiglass. It’s Tony, knocking his bound hands against it. A guard grabs him by the shoulders and drags him away.

“I’m not sure your friend is as done as you are,” the guard says to me.

“He’s not my friend.”

“Oh? Then why did you want to see him?”

“He’s my cousin. Second cousin. I thought I wanted some answers, but it turns out I don’t.”

The guard says nothing, just leads me out, back to the area where Luke is waiting for me.

He doesn’t look happy.

28

Luke

I made a phone call while I was waiting. To an old contact at the FBI—one of the only two people who know where I am. He wasn’t thrilled with my request, but when I told him the details, he said he’d make it happen.

I’ll be back here tomorrow, same time, without Katelyn.

And I’ll be talking to Anthony DeCarlo.

Katelyn has a smile on her face, which surprises me more than a little. I rise when the guard leads her into the waiting area.