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Goddamn, this woman will be the end of me.
* * *
Back at the rectory, I watch Ruiz take careful bites of his ham and cheese panini. The man handles his lunch with the same attentive movements as he does while offering communion.
“You’re from the south, right?” I ask before shoving a bite of my sandwich into my mouth.
“San Diego, yes. I was born in Chula Vista.”
“Ever been to Calexico?”
“Of course! I know the priest at Our Lady of Guadalupe. We attended Seminary together.”
“Really?”
“Yes, he’s very well respected in his community. A little overwhelmed, though, as I understand.”
“How so?”
“Their congregation has grown somewhat exponentially over the past few years. He’s scheduled six months out for weddings,Quinceañeras, baptismals. It’s just him down there.”
“The diocese won’t send him some help?”
“They have, but it just doesn’t work out. People in the community have come to trust Javier.” He tips his head, setting down his panini. “What interests you in Calexico?”
Shrugging off his question, I sip my water while I contemplate the answer. I’m not sure why I bothered to ask. I’ve already relinquished the idea of going afterEl Cabro Blanco, and perhaps going back to being just a regular guy. “Just curious.”
“I’ve given thought to offering him some help, but … the gangs and cartels are just too dangerous. I’ve read awful things they’ve done to innocent people. It doesn’t surprise me that parishioners have reconnected with their faith.”
“And what about Javier? How’s he dealt with their violence?”
Setting down his sandwich, he lifts his chin a bit and rests his elbows on the table. “It’s strange, you know. I think they respect him. Faith is a very strong connection for some people. Even the ones who commit atrocious crimes.”
I stare down at my food, thinking back to earlier in the week, when I murdered a man and my initial thoughts were how disappointed Bishop McDonnell, and even Ruiz, would be if they ever found out. “It is.”
“Well, if I were you, I’d stay away from there. I’ve heard a number of criminals seek out those border towns.”
“Ever hear of one calledCabro Blanco.”
Dropping his gaze from mine, he furrows his brow. “I would encourage you not to throw that name around much. Even here.”
I’ve never known a man, besides my own father, who’d become a household name for being a bastard, from the east to west coast. “Then, his reputation is everything they say?”
“It’s hard to discern what’s fiction from non-fiction, but none of what I’ve heard is good. I believe human beings are capable of carrying out evil acts against God. But none have shocked me as much as those carried out by that particular man. If you can call him that.”
The more I hear about this man goat, who has taken on the form of a mystical creature in my head, the more I think the world would be better off without him in it, but that’s no longer my place. I’ve handed over my wrath for the sake of what little soul I have left in me.
Rising up from his chair, Ruiz pats me on the shoulder. “Be grateful you chose a path least likely to cross his. A man like that has no business with God.”
With a nod, I keep my eyes on my food, trying not to think of Val and Isabella, who unwittingly made the goat’s kill list. “Thanks.”
He gives one more squeeze, and clears his dishes from the table before exiting the room.
Tonight, I’ll draft the email for Bishop McDonnell. Probably best to resign face to face, but the likelihood of him talking me into staying is far too realistic to chance it.
23
Ivy
