Web of Angels (30 page)

“It does matter.”

Ceecee shook her head. “I don’t care about me. She’s going to be alone with Linny. How can I protect her from here?” The blankness cracked, desperation in her eyes; she’d searched for a way out and found only one. “Even when I get up to the cottage, the crib is going to be in their room.
It’s too late. There’s nothing anyone can do. I was mad at her, but Heather was right. She just didn’t finish things.”

“Are you thinking of killing yourself?” Callisto asked outright—this was too serious for tact.

“I’m tired of fighting all the time. It’s no use anyway.”

“No,” Callisto said. “You can’t let them win.”

“If I can’t help Linny, there’s no reason to bother with anything.” Her voice was heavy as if speaking took more effort than it was worth.

“Giving up this easily? I didn’t think you were such a coward,” Callisto snapped.

“You think I haven’t tried! Who do you think you are?” That was better. Anger instead of helplessness.

“Callisto—that’s the name I go by. I’d rather not say what I was called.” She smiled in that wry way she’d learned, and sat down beside Ceecee, looking through the bars of the crib at the baby lying on her back, snoring lightly with the onset of a cold. “Don’t give up yet. You’re still here and we’re on your side. We each have an army inside. Someone who is multiple isn’t easily overcome.”

“I wish … I don’t know.” In the alley behind the house, a moving truck had pulled up. There was a scraping sound on the other side of the wall. Amy and Ingrid were moving out their last things before the new tenants arrived.

“We called the abuse line. Anonymously,” Callisto added as the girl’s eyes flashed. “They can remove you from here if you say what you know.”

“What? The police won’t help.” She shook her head. “They’ll take me away and then nobody can save Linny.”

“She’d come with you.”

“I know what’ll happen. My great-grandfather was a policeman. Even in his eighties he still could do me. He was the first one. Like they said.” She gritted her teeth. “It was an honour.”

“They lied,” Callisto said. She could hear the murmur of her friends’ voices next door, but not make out their words, just as on the night Heather died, Ingrid had heard sounds open to interpretation. But what had actually happened? “They lied about your great-grandfather, too.”

“How do you mean?”

“Last night when you called I was online. I found two mentions of Edwards men in this neighbourhood during the 1930s. One was Skinny Edwards, a member of the Pit Gang, who ended up in hospital with minor injuries during the riot. The other was an A. Edwards who owned the coal depot on Hammond Street.”

“So he wasn’t a policeman,” Ceecee said wonderingly, then her eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

“I am sure that he had nothing to do with quelling the riot.”

“Why would they say that?” Her world was tilting and she could either cling to it or jump. She had thought of jumping, but not like this.

“My father used to say that we were descended from Roman legions as if it made him noble. In fact he is a criminal who was never caught.” Callisto pressed on. “We can pick you up after school. I promise that you won’t be left alone with the police or anyone else. We’ll be with you at every step.”

“What about my parents?”

“Leave them to us.”

“Maybe …” Ceecee looked to the side, her hands clenched. Her face was tensing, jaw tight as she switched, and now cold eyes turned to Callisto. “No.”

“I see.” Callisto shifted, and someone else came forward with equal coldness, steel meeting steel.

The Overseer rose to his feet. “You will come with us as soon as we can arrange it—perhaps tomorrow?” he asked, though he was more used to giving orders than asking questions.

“Rules are rules.” The young voice was hard.

“I have discovered new rules.”

“A rule that changes is not a rule,” the child said.

Her face was severe, but the Overseer was aware of how much trust it took for her to speak at all. “You know now that they told you one lie. How many others are there? Discover the truth for yourself.”

“How?” she asked, a child of battle, made to endure, made for severity.

“Tell what you know, or let someone else inside do it.” He paused so that she might take his measure. Shoulders square, harsh-voiced, a tangle of red hair. In the body and yet himself. Free. Wanted.

“Cathy! What’s keeping you?” Debra’s voice called upstairs. And as Cathy came forward, so did Callisto.

Cathy’s face showed less confusion than Callisto expected. “I’ve got to get ready or I’ll be late. See you,” she said.

“Very soon.” Callisto followed her down the stairs.

“Hurry up,” Debra scolded. “You need to thank Mrs. Lewis for her kindness and pull yourself together. You have a closet full of clothes. I told you to get rid of those shorts. They’re disgusting. You can’t wear them to school.”

“They’re mine,” Cathy said. “I bought them at Honest Ed’s with my own money.”

“My pretty girl has become a hobo.” Rick put a hand on the banister, and his daughter stepped back, eyes riveted to the pale hand on the polished dark wood banister. “I’ll deal with your attitude later, Cathy. Right now, you need to get to school.”

And it was all so ordinary except that it wasn’t.

“I checked the website that we found Cathy working on, Angels of Tranquility,” Callisto said. “The homepage looks innocuous, even pretty. It has angels floating on a blue background, and all the links are password protected.”

“Did you call the Child Exploitation Unit?” Brigitte asked.

They’d discussed it at the last session, the therapist claiming that this time they—Callisto, Alec or whoever was out for this—would be believed. Not everyone inside was persuaded. “Yes, I called, without giving my name. The detective said to bring her to the local station if I could. I promised Cathy we’d help and we have to do it soon, before we lose her trust. Tomorrow if possible.”

“From what you’ve been telling us, porn is big business,”
Eleanor said. “These people have money. They’ve got resources. They’re violent. What if Rick starts thinking she’s getting in his way? What if something happened to her?” She pointed at her sister-in-law.

“If he finds out, I wouldn’t be the one to pay.” Callisto spoke to those inside as much as those around the table. “The perpetrators who get caught are the obvious ones. Rick and Debra know what they’re doing. They wouldn’t hurt a neighbour and chance being revealed. But they would punish their daughter so thoroughly that she wouldn’t think of trying this again.”

“You see how it is, Dr. Felber,” Jake addressed Brigitte, unwilling to call a doctor, even a psychologist, by her first name. “The Pit Gang fought and they lost. You think they lost because they didn’t know how to fight? You think the Italians and Jews won because they fought better? Let me tell you. It isn’t rocket science to swing a pipe. Everyone could fight. It’s nothing new.”

“Dad, this isn’t anything to do with Christie Pits,” Dan said as patiently as he could.

“Boychik
, those people are bullies, too.” His mouth twisted as if he might spit. “You tell your kids, stand up to bullies. Show them how. Not with this.” He smacked his liver-spotted fist into his hand, surprising his son with the sound of it as if he still had his old strength. “With this.” His father tapped his forehead. “Don’t have a goyisheh
kop
. No offense, Bram.” He smiled at his gentile son-in-law.

“None taken,” Bram said. Wiring was a quiet job. You only had to say,
Check the breaker
. Or
I’m here, pull
. But you
saw unexpected things when you cut out plaster. “I did the wiring at the Edwards’ house.” Everyone was looking at him. He stopped talking, embarrassed.

“Go on,” Brigitte encouraged.

“It had knob and tube and their insurance company gave them sixty days to replace it. Their basement was soundproofed, but it was set up as a guest room, so I didn’t think anything of it.” His quiet voice was tinged with regret.

“You’re speaking now,” Brigitte said. “It isn’t too late.” She was writing notes on her yellow pad, Mimi looking over her shoulder to make sure she left nothing out. “If you want to do this tomorrow, how would that work?”

“I could pick her up after school when she’s home with the baby so I can take them both,” Callisto said.

“We still have a car seat in the basement,” Dan said. He started making a list on his smartphone.

“I’m concerned about getting Cathy alone,” Callisto said. “Debra might leave work early as it’s her last day. Then there’s Rick. What if he’s at home?”

Dan was still tapping with the stylus. 1. Put infant seat in car. 2. Fill up car. 3. Meeting with Rick?

Deleting the question mark, he said, “I was supposed to go over the fundraising campaign for the Committee for Youth tomorrow. I haven’t yet cancelled it because I didn’t know what to say. How about if I go? It was set for two but I could ask him to meet at four instead.”

“Well,” Eleanor said, “I could put together a surprise party at Magee’s at the same time. A send-off for Debra.”

“On such short notice?” Brigitte asked.

“Easy.” Eleanor crossed her arms, and eyed her sister-in-law as if she’d read their thoughts. “Just don’t turn your house into a refugee centre. Let the kids go to foster care.”

Callisto blinked, feeling Sharon surge forward, ready to protest. But it was her father-in-law who said, “Let? There’s no letting. Why do you think we all ended up right here around this table? It’s not for nothing.”

“You have enough room for two more kids in your house,” Mimi said, “if you’d only clean it up. The basement used to be an apartment. Now it’s full of boxes. Put this on your list, Danny. Your daddy and I will pick up Emmie and then we’ll get Judy and Nina from school.”

“That would be great, Mom.” Dan made a note of it.

“We can’t let Cathy down,” Callisto said, putting her hand on his.

“We’ll get those kids out,” he said. “They deserve better.”

“Now you’re using your head,” Jake said. “If there was only God then who would God love?”

Stars are usually born in molecular clouds. But when a giant gas cloud encounters a giant black hole, it is not entirely destroyed. It is ripped, torn, reshaped into a spiral that takes energy from deep in and moves it far out, birthing stars even here in this most dangerous of places. This is what can be seen through scientific instruments: a necklace of brilliance around a darkness darker than night at the heart of our galaxy.

O
n the fifth floor of the former Ford factory, Rick was waiting in reception, hands clasped behind his back as he studied the framed photographs of the building in its previous glory: the testing track on the roof, cars being painted on this floor, the assembly line on four, repairs on three, and on the second floor, the salesroom where now his wife had her pediatric practice.

“Hello, Rick,” Dan said as he came into reception. “Thank you for changing the appointment time.”

“It’s totally fine, we can go straight from here to Magee’s. It was nice of Eleanor to organize that.”

“That’s my sister. Organized.” Wearing his second best suit and the girls’ ugly birthday present, which had become, against all odds, his good-luck tie, he guided Rick toward the corner office. One window faced the railroad tracks, the other window looked across the overpass to Best Foods. Bushes trembled in the light breeze.

“Have a seat, please. I’ve got everything here,” Dan said.
The floorboards creaked as they settled in chairs on either side of his desk.

Rick crossed one leg over the other. “I liked what you did for Families Against Guns even though the mailing was late. I hope you can do as well for the Committee for Youth.”

Several samples of mailing designs were spread out on the oak surface of Dan’s desk: exterior envelope, reply envelope, letter. Dan explained the benefits of a handwritten envelope, though it was more expensive, but Rick was restless, hardly listening.

“It’s up to you, though,” Dan said, eyes on the letter copy so he didn’t have to look at Rick.

“I want to discuss this.” Rick flapped the telephone script. “You haven’t put anything about Heather’s suicide in here.”

Dan looked around his desk for something to occupy his hands, thinking of how good it would feel to take a swing at Rick. He picked up his pen. “I thought it would be effective to focus on the programs you want to set up for teens.”

“I want people to remember Heather,” Rick said.

“Right.” Dan took the script from Rick and scribbled on it.

“We’re all set,” Alec said. In the school playground half a block down, kids were climbing rope ladders and sliding down slides, shouting with after-school freedom, anticipating summer. The diaper bag was in the trunk, the baby buckled into the infant seat, facing the rear of the car, her young auntie in front. His bag was on the back seat.

“I forgot the tablet,” she said, turning off her cellphone and placing it in her backpack.

“We’ll get you another one.” He pressed the button to lock the doors. If she went back in, she might not come out again.

“You’re sure that Dad is occupied?”

“He’s with Dan. You want to see the text?” He reached into his pocket and took out his cell, flipping it open so she could look.
Rick here go 4 it
.

“What if the baby poops? Cathy’s the one who changes diapers.”

“I’ll do it,” Alec said, adding, as Ceecee raised her eyebrows, “Okay, so I’m not Sharon. But I can handle a bit of shit.” He turned the key in the ignition.

“The last couple of days, Cathy can hear when I’m out. She thinks we’re crazy or lying. I don’t know if I can keep her back,” Ceecee said

“Hang in there.” Alec looked over his shoulder as he pulled away from the house. You had to be watchful here. The sky was grey, the road was grey, and all you’d see was a flash of colour if some kid ran out of the school yard and across the street, expecting a ton of steel to stop on a dime.

Built in the same year as the Ford factory, the police station was A-shaped, stairs leading up to the ornate wooden door, brick arms stretching to right and left. Inside, several uniformed officers sat among the computers behind the counter. A female officer, short sandy hair, the blue collar of
her uniform blouse standing above her jacket, was attending to the kettle while her colleagues relaxed, hands loose, teasing her as they waited for tea. Behind the desks was the mailroom, and behind the mailroom were holding cells with green bars.