Where the Sun Sets (12 page)

He walked over and turned on the water.
Carefully he washed his hands. Scrubbing like a surgeon to his
elbows. He washed his face and neck next. Blindly he grabbed a
towel hanging to the side of the sink. He dried his face and stared
into the mirror. He continued to stare into the eyes that look
back, as he dried his hands and arms. ‘Joe, he said Joe.’ the eyes
said to him as he stared. He walked out of the bathroom, leaving
Bernie to a certain death. The water had found an escape from the
confines of the tub. Starting as a drip, becoming a steady flow. It
touched the puddle of blood, which had grown around Bernie’s knees.
Almost immediately the two intertwine and the floor of the bathroom
became the color of cherry juice.

The stranger walked through Bernie’s bedroom.
He scavenged through the pockets of the discarded pants, lying on
the bed. A couple bucks and a visitor’s pass from the hospital. The
kind you are supposed to return when you leave. He exited the room
and headed for the kitchen where he rummaged through the fridge for
anything. Finding nothing that pleased him, he searched the freezer
as well. A small smile came to his face as he spied, on the side of
the freezer door, a zip lock bag containing cash.

He exited through the back door and with
Bernie’s keys in hand, locked it shut behind him. Once again
outside in the fresh morning air, with the sun on his face, he felt
rejuvenated. He pointed his face skyward; with his eyes closed he
inhaled deeply. Back to the hospital he walked. A little further
this time and his pace slower. He had to rethink, come up with a
new plan. He must find this Joe.

Chapter 12

Harold Davis stopped and stared at a portrait
of himself and his wife. The portrait had been taken two years
before he had retired. The only professional portrait the two ever
had done. They had eloped when they were teens. There were no
wedding photos at all. He deeply missed her. He was not able to
fill the void in his life her death had caused. Who knew someone
could hold so very much of you inside of them.

Coming out of his trance, he shook his head
to clear the thoughts. Entering his kitchen for a fresh cup of
coffee, Harold stepped into the puddle caused by the earlier
mishap. Cursing to himself he looked down at his shoe. He picked up
his foot and looked at the sole. There was a small hole on the sole
of his shoe caused from years of wear. The cold coffee had entered
the hole resulting in a wet sock. He took a deep breath and
continued on his way to the coffee pot. With cup in hand he
returned to his office. Again he sat back in his chair. For a
moment he just sat and sipped his beverage. He became
thoughtful.

Antonia Dal Santo was such a small child when
he had first seen her. He had barely found her hunched back in the
closet the way she was. She was so frightened, so quiet, so very
quiet. This was the one thing that had stood out in his mind, year
after year, day after day. Every time he found himself surrounded
by silence he thought of that little girl in the closet surrounded
by silence.

He looked down at the fourth and last pile in
front of him. With a deep sigh he removed the photo, paper clipped
to the top paper. A photo of what should have been a woman’s face.
A woman with deep rich auburn hair and eyes as green as jade. A
woman who could very well have made the cover of every magazine in
the country, possibly the world, in Harold’s opinion. But she came
from poverty. She never knew the world or imagined herself as
anyone. At the age of sixteen, she had found herself married to
Salvatore Dal Santo. Her own father had used her hand for payment
of a loan.

Juliet never made it to her twenty fifth
birthday, a victim of a savage beating. Her own husband had left
her with no recognizable features. Even dental records could not
prove her identity. Salvatore had punched her repeatedly until the
front of her skull was nothing more than a cavern.

She had called the station that afternoon.
The afternoon of her death. She called to report abuse at the hands
of her husband. She had said she feared for the safety of her
daughter. Harold had asked her what time her husband was expected
home. He had instructed her to leave, perhaps come down to the
station. Juliet had no means of transportation. The Dal Santo house
was set back off the main road by about a mile. There were no
markers and you could only find the place if you knew where it was
or stumbled upon it accidentally. Harold did not have the man power
at the time to send someone out to pick her up. He had promised to
send someone out as soon as it was possible. For this Juliet had
thanked him. He could hear the relief in her voice.

He should have gone for her himself. Had she
mentioned the type of abuse...perhaps if she had mentioned more
about her daughter...he had never forgiven himself for not sending
someone out there in time. His Inspector instincts should have
forced him to follow up on the phone call immediately. That was why
he had personally gone to the house the next day. Why he felt it
was his responsibility to find the child, in whatever shape she may
have been in. Honestly, in his heart, he had feared her dead. His
instincts though, had led him to believe she was still alive. So he
searched for hours until he had found her.

This, he told himself, was why he had
followed her every move throughout her life. The difference,
between a stalker and himself, in his mind, was that he cared about
her. He was not obsessed with her, he was concerned for her. He
felt responsible for her life. He had passed the phone to an
officer at the desk outside his office. He could not even remember
that officer’s name. He had assured Mrs. Dal Santo that he would
send someone out and handed her off to someone else. He did not
even read the report from that phone call until after reading the
report from her death. When he read of the abuse, his knees gave
out and he was forced to sit. He read of the sexual assaults
against the mother. The physical beatings and the prison like camp
he had kept them in. But when his eyes had fallen on the section of
the report, regarding the sexual abuse of the child, he became
solidified. He could not breathe or swallow. He could not move,
although all he wanted to do was get out of the station. It was as
if some outside force were holding him against his will keeping his
eyes locked on the paragraph which read, ‘repeated sexual
intercourse’.

Salvatore Dal Santo had started abusing the
child at approximately the age of one. Sexually, he started abusing
her at the age of four. Three years, almost daily, according to
Juliet’s report. Juliet had admitted she had to apply makeup on the
child’s face and do the child’s hair up in an adult fashion.
Salvatore wanted the child to look like a younger version of the
mother. They were to dress the same as well. When asked why she had
not reported the abuse earlier, Mrs. Dal Santo replied that she had
not thought about it. When asked to explain, her response had been
that she did not know she had the right. The report continued on to
say, that it was her daughter who had requested she make Salvatore
stop. She did not know what else to do, so she called for help.

Harold again cleared his head. Placing the
photo down on the desk, he picked up the paper work on the father.
Salvatore Dal Santo. A record from the age of ten. Sentenced to
twenty five to thirty years at State. Murdered in prison after
serving twenty years by another inmate during a dispute. He had
been stabbed repeatedly with a sharpened broom handle. The reason
for the dispute was reportedly unknown. Salvatore’s temper had not
subsided while locked away. He was frequently reported in brawls
and arguments. He gambled and lost a lot while in prison. It was
not clear if this was a habit formed outside and brought in with
him.

Chapter 13

Josephine grabbed her keys off of the kitchen
counter and headed out the foyer door on her way to the garage.
Thinking perhaps it may be a long morning, she decided to grab a
cup of coffee to take with her. Turning back to the kitchen she
jumped at the sight of an officer standing behind her.

“Sorry ma`am, didn’t mean to frighten you.
Lieutenant Barsky would like for you to come down to the station
and answer a few questions.”

“Sure, yeah, whatever. Tell him I’ll be
there.” She walked around the officer towards the kitchen. The
officer followed her.

“Ma`am, the Lieutenant, she would like you to
come in this morning. Will that be all right?”

Josephine glanced at her watch. She wanted to
see Anthony. She wanted to be there when she woke up. She wanted
her to know that everything would be alright. Dammit, she cancelled
all appointments so she could do just that. “Fine, tell her. Tell
her I will be in directly, OK? Will that be soon enough?”

“I will notify her now ma`am, thank you.”

“Shit.” Josephine said to the air in her
kitchen, as she poured herself a travel mug full of coffee.

The garage held four cars comfortably. It
presently housed both Josephine’s silver two door convertible 2000
Mercedes Benz and Antonia’s metallic sky blue 2001 Mini Cooper. The
latter was a birthday present from Josephine to Antonia. Also in
the garage, a 1980 Harley Davidson FLH, motor and trans powder
coated pearl, as were the frame and tanks. The seat was a Corbin
custom, done in the softest leather possible, pale blue in color
with matching accents. It was Antonia’s pride and joy. Josephine
hated the bike, which was a major reason behind the purchase of the
Cooper.

Chloe’s 1998 Oldsmobile Cutlass Cruiser was
parked in the far drive. It was the one vehicle which moved on a
daily basis. Billy never parked in the garage. He opted to leave
his car in the driveway.

Josephine turned on the car stereo before
exiting the garage in the hopes of drowning out whatever reporters
happened to remain. As she backed out of the drive, her car was
flanked by police vehicles from the front and back. The officer,
who met her in her hallway, came over to explain that they would
escort her to the station. One officer would remain on duty outside
her dwelling for the remainder of the day.

She was slightly irritated by the police
presence. Somehow she did not feel that they were there for her
protection. She felt intimidated somehow, as if she were being
accused of something. She picked up her cell phone and hit the
number one, the speed dial for her attorney.

After explaining her situation, Justin
Pictella, Josephine’s attorney for the past twelve years,
instructed her not to exit her vehicle until he arrived at the
station. He assured her that he would follow her inside and sit
through all the questioning that may take place. In his opinion,
the questioning was just a follow up to the report processed the
evening before. Josephine explained that she was not there for the
report, that it had been Billy whom had gone done to the station
last evening.

Confident that the only thing needed from her
was an agreement to Billy’s statement, Josephine proceeded to the
station. Justin had somehow miraculously arrived before Josephine
and her police escort. He came to her car as soon as she pulled it
to a stop. He circled the vehicle and entered into the passenger
side. One of the two escorts had gone into the squad car parking
area. The other had remained fixed behind Josephine’s Benz.

“Is there anything about last evening I
should be made aware of before we proceed?” Justin wanted to cover
all areas.

“I don’t really remember much. Most of it I
only know from watching the video Billy gave me.”

“Video?”

“Yes, video. Billy said some reporter was
parked out on the water videotaping the party. He went after the
guy and got the video.”

“Was the shooting caught on tape?”

“Every bit of it.”

“Did Billy give a copy of the tape to the
officer last night?”

“I have no clue.”

“I wish I had known about this tape before we
got here.”

“Why, you said it was just a simple question
and answer session.”

“Well I hope that is all this is. You’re
telling me that Billy was out on the water when the shooting took
place?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Look. Justin, you’re
making me very uncomfortable here. What is it your thinking and not
telling me?” Justin glanced out the side window for a minute. And
then he looked through the rear view mirror towards the police
cruiser which was still at its post.

“Why don’t you stay here in the car a minute
and I will run in and see what this is all about. Chances are we’re
going to need the video. And, I for one would like to see it before
they do.”

“For crying out loud Justin, I want to get to
the hospital and see Anthony. What the hell good is it gonna do for
me to wait out here. I’m going in with you now and get it over
with. Come on.”

It was more of a demand than a statement.
Justin hurriedly rushed after his client.

“Josephine...” He ran to catch up with her.
“Ms. Ferrero, please wait a second.” He had to grab her arm to stop
her. He let go of it as soon as he saw that he had her attention.
“Listen; just do me the favor of not saying anything. OK? We’ll go
in and find out what they want. We will listen, understand?”
Josephine looked back over her shoulder towards the officer who
used to be in the car, but who was now standing quietly not more
than four feet from them.

“Justin, what’s this all about? Am I being
accused of something here? Did I do something wrong? I got shot at
for Pete’s sake. Someone tried to kill me. What? What is your
concern? Tell me now before we go inside.” Justin grabbed hold of
Josephine’s elbow and directed her off to the side. Hoping they
could speak privately a moment. He made eye contact with the
officer. Understanding the message clearly, the officer stepped off
to the station entrance and waited by the door.