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Oooops!I should be listening to what Father O’Malley is saying . . . my bad.
" . . . these people are not joking, Tony," he says, glancing around before locking eyes with me again. "They've already shown they're willing to kill for whatever it is they protect. A man is dead."
I nod, understanding the gravity but unable to quell the fire in my belly. The unfairness of it all.
"Father, I hear what you are saying, but Liam is trapped in Zurich, with nothing to do and unable to come home. It's like prison all over again," My voice quivers, not from fear but frustration.
"How much of his life must he give up . . . twelve years, Father. Isn't that enough?"
Father O'Malley's lips press into a thin line, his hands clasped tight. "Tony, I—"
"Father," I cut in, leaning forward, my hands steady on the tabletop, palms down. "I have fallen in love, and I want my man home, here with me. I know the risks you talk about, but this is important to me. I'm willing to risk it all—risk my life, if that’s what it takes—though I hope it doesn't come to that."
Father O'Malley studies me for a long moment, sizing my resolve, then exhales slowly, the fight leaving him as he nods once. "Very well. We'll set up a meeting with Sarah, Liam's investigator. This is not going to be easy."
"Thank you," I whisper, relief washing over me. One move down . . . how many to go?
The door to the small, stuffy office at St. Mary's swings open, and Father O'Malley ushers me inside. The room smells like old books and candle wax—a comforting scent that usually calms my nerves, but today, it doesn't do its magic.
"Sarah will be here shortly," the priest murmurs, gesturing for me to take a seat.
"Thank you, Father," I sit, but my knee bounces with pent-up energy, eager to dive into the murky waters of Liam's case.
"Tony, before she arrives, remember—discretion is key." His voice is low and serious, and it triggers an odd feeling in my chest, like I'm a child being cautioned.
"Of course." I nod, my stomach twisting a little. "I won't let emotion cloud my judgment."
"Good. Because—" Father O'Malley is cut off mid-sentence as a knock interrupts him.
"Come in," he calls out.
The door opens again, and Sarah enters—a woman with sharp eyes and a no-nonsense ponytail. Her handshake is firm, her smile polite but distant.
"Tony, it's good to meet you. Father O'Malley speaks highly of you," she says, settling across from me.
"Likewise, Sarah. I appreciate your time."
"Let's get down to business," she says, flipping open her notepad. "Father O’Malley brought me up to speed when requesting this meeting, and I must say I’m not in favor of what you propose. Your involvement . . . well, it's not standard protocol."
"Protocol can be restrictive," I counter. "I can offer a different perspective since I'm invested."
"And that there lies the problem. As you just intimated, you are invested. That can sometimes cloud your judgment.”
"I get it, Sarah. Emotions can sometimes muddy the waters, but they also bring a different kind of clarity. A personal stake means I won't stop until we find the truth. I think I might just be an asset to you.
“As you said, you are guided by protocol, but sometimes, breaking a few rules is the only way to untangle a web of lies," I reply, meeting her gaze with unwavering determination. I can be that person for you, willing to break the rules on my tab, keeping your hands clean as you get the results you need to win your case. If you ask me, this is a win-win.”
“Okay," Sarah concedes, her pen hovering over the paper. "But know there are risks. This isn't just about breaking rules—this could be dangerous."
"I am aware that risk is part of the deal. I'm not afraid." My voice is firmer than I feel.
Sarah still looks unconvinced and uncomfortable. We both let her mull things over in her mind uninterrupted. She finally comes out of her introspection and says,
"Tony, I am very conflicted about this. Emotions can compromise my investigation. It's important to maintain objectivity, and I’m afraid your involvement may just compromise that." Sarah meets my gaze, her expression unreadable.
"Objectivity hasn't gotten Liam back," I spit back using venom, my control slipping. "We need action now guarantee positive results."
"Exactly why we should be more calculated—be more focused on precision— and strategic in our approach," she replies calmly. "The wrong move could set us back months."
