Chapter Sixty
Margo Angelhart
"How long is he going to be in there?" I hated this new plan. It put Uncle Rafe right in the path of danger. The Kevlar wouldn't protect him against a head shot.
I hadn't really liked the old plan, either, but we had a lot more control in the rectory.
I had Jack on speaker while I sat in Uncle Rafe's car on the far side of the church, my Jeep parked next to Jack's truck two blocks away. "What if Uncle Rafe can't get him to the rectory? What if he suspects something?"
I wasn't usually so jumpy, but this was my uncle. Someone who abhorred violence, who was compassionate and kind and sometimes I thought I saw a halo over his head during Mass.
"Have faith."
"Really? You're pulling the faith card on me? God helps those who help themselves. And yet we're trusting Uncle Rafe's life to an abusive rapist."
I took a deep breath. What Jack really meant was to calm down, and so I forced myself to calm. Deep breath in, hold it, breathe out slowly. Repeat. I could practically feel my heart rate drop by the third deep breath.
"The door's opening," I said. "Okay. Uncle Rafe's walking with him toward the rectory. I'm calling Sullivan."
I ended the call with Jack and called Detective Sullivan.
He didn't answer his phone.
I was perplexed; I hadn't considered that he wouldn't be reachable. Rick had confirmed that he was on duty until six, which was one reason we planned this time.
I left a message. "This is Margo Angelhart, we spoke the other day about Annie Carillo. I am worried that her husband is following me. My uncle is a priest at St. Dominic's, and Carillo is here. Please call me back. I'm scared." I didn't sound scared, I sounded angry. But he didn't know me, so I thought it might pass as fear. I rattled off my number and the address of the church.
I texted Jack the status and watched as Carillo and Uncle Rafe walked toward the rectory. I didn't like Carillo's body language. He seemed...suspicious. Had he seen me, this far away? I didn't think so, not from this angle, but I could be wrong.
Had he cased the neighborhood, seen my Jeep? Maybe.
They stopped walking and Carillo said something to Uncle Rafe. They stared at each other. I couldn't read lips this far away. Something was definitely wrong.
Suddenly, Uncle Rafe turned with Carillo and walked toward Carillo's minivan.
No, no this wasn't in the plan—what was Uncle Rafe doing?
I called Jack. "Uncle Rafe is getting in his car! Wait—he's calling me."
I hit the record app on my phone, switched to Uncle Rafe. "Hello?" I said, forcing my voice to be calm. I didn't want to give anything away.
"Margo, don't be concerned," Uncle Rafe said.
Don't be concerned? I was beyond concerned.
Carillo got on the phone. "Father Morales has graciously agreed to help mediate between Annie and me. Bring her home. You told the detective that you didn't know where she was—I don't believe you. Father Morales and I will be waiting for her. Don't be long."
He ended the call and drove away with my uncle.
The phone switched back to Jack. "He's leaving with Rafe. I think they're going to his house. I'm following." I waited until Carillo left the parking lot before I started the car.
"Wait for me—"
"No time. I'll text you his address—get there. There's a park a block away that can't be seen from his house. I'll meet you there. If he goes somewhere else, I'll let you know."
"Don't confront him."
"I'm thinking."
"Call Annie, have her call him, buy time. I'll call 9-1-1—"
"No, that will spook him. He's armed, and we don't need a car chase. And I don't have her number. I can't call her even if I wanted to."
"I'll call Rick. Shit, it's the middle of Sam's graduation."
"Call Otto," I said. "I'll call Officer Nunez. He gave me his personal cell."
"Be careful, sis."
"I have an idea. Rafe can't lie, but I have no problem with it."
I ended the call, pulled Nunez's card from my wallet, and dialed.
"Hello," he said when he picked up.
"Archie Nunez?"
"Yep."
"This is Margo Angelhart. I tried Detective Sullivan, but he didn't answer."
"I'm off-duty right now."
Shit."Peter Carillo kidnapped my uncle, Father Raphael Morales, from St. Dominic's. It's a long story, and I don't have time to go into details, but I'm following Carillo's blue minivan and I think he's going to his house in Norterra. He called me from Rafe's phone and expects me to bring his wife there, says that Rafe will mediate a conversation to fix their marriage or some such nonsense."
"Is Annie with you?"
"No. I don't know where she is, I didn't lie to you. I have no way of reaching her. Carillo is violent. He abused her, raped her."
"She can press charges and testify—"
"And he would still have access to their kids. He never hurt his kids. She has no physical proof that he abused her, no emergency room visits. He's a cop. Look, I know what I'm doing, and he would have eventually killed her. Now he has my uncle, and I don't know what he's going to do when I can't produce Annie. I'm going to his house. My brother, Jack Angelhart, used to be with Phoenix PD. He's following me. One of my closest friends is Clive Otter, a trooper whose brother is—"
"Jesse Otter, Captain of DPS."
"So we're reaching out to the right people, but if this goes through channels, he could hear, and that puts my uncle at greater risk. Please trust me."
"I live out in Avondale, I won't get there in time, but I can find Sullivan and fill him in."
"Thank you."
"I had a suspicion about why she left," Nunez said, "but nothing concrete."
"People see the truth when they look," I said and ended the call.
I had an idea. I didn't know if it would work, but it was the only idea I had.
I followed Peter Carillo until he got off the freeway toward his house. I pulled off at the next exit, then backtracked, turned into his neighborhood and stopped at the park. And waited for Jack so I could tell him my plan.
He wasn't going to like it.
Twenty minutes later, I knocked on Carillo's door. I could practically see him staring at me through the camera on his door, the one that he used to track not who came and went with packages, but his own wife.
He said through the speaker, "Door is unlocked. Come in."
I checked my watch, then entered.
Carillo grabbed me as soon as I walked in. "Where is my wife?" he demanded.
"She is going to call me in five minutes," I said. "Let me go."
He pushed me onto the dining room table and searched me. Took my gun out of my holster, my knife out of my pocket.
He missed my slim lightweight Kahr P380 I had holstered around my ankle, concealed by my khakis. It wouldn't be super easy to get to, but I had drilled with it.
Uncle Rafe had the vest on under his shirt. Not that Kevlar was perfect protection, but it was definitely better than nothing. Cops were taught to shoot center mass to stop the threat—it was training that became part of their muscle memory so that they could act in the face of danger, adrenaline and anxiety. Still, stray bullets didn't abide by muscle memory, so I wanted to keep Rafe out of harm's way.
He put my gun and knife on the top of the dining hutch. I could get to them, but not without a step stool or climbing onto the table. He kept my phone with him.
"Family room," he ordered and motioned for me to go in front of him.
Rafe was sitting at the table in the nook between the family room and kitchen. His hands were folded on the table in front of him, and he looked okay—alive, healthy, uninjured.
But his eyes showed his concern. Not for himself, but for me.
He should have known I would come for him. He should never have left with Carillo—he knew that Jack and I were near. What had Carillo said that he went without fighting?
Carillo pushed me down to the floor, my back against the wall, and said, "Don't move." He looked at his watch. "You had better not be lying to me."
"Let the priest leave."
"Your uncle?"
"Yes, he's also my uncle. You've done a lot of miserable things in your life—I wouldn't tack threatening a man of God onto the list."
"You and this priest conspired to destroy my family."
"You destroyed your family, Peter. You did," I repeated. "You hurt Annie, and she couldn't take it anymore."
"I never hurt her. I love my wife."
"You hurt her all the time," I said. "You separated her from her friends. You punched her in the stomach when she didn't behave up to your standards. You raped her every day."
"I never raped my wife, you filthy liar!"
"She told me."
"We were married."
"You taught her she wasn't allowed to say no by hurting her when she didn't feel like spreading her legs for you."
He backhanded me. I didn't see it coming and I fell over. Damn, that hurt.
"Please, Mr. Carillo, there is no need for violence," Rafe said. "Sit down, let's talk."
He didn't sit. Instead, he paced, glaring at me. I much preferred his attention on me than on Rafe.
"We are married," Carillo said. "Annie is my wife. I gave her everything. A house. A car. Two children. I was here every night. I never cheated on her. I was a good husband. Unlike my father and her father, who both left their families. I would never leave her, leave my children. How could she do this to me?"
My cell phone rang.
Peter looked down at my phone in his hand. The caller ID should read Annie C. He immediately answered. "Annie?"
This was where the plan was iffy. Okay, the whole plan was iffy, but having Luisa call and pretend to be Annie was the dangerous part. The plan was mine, but Jack improved on it, suggested that the connection be "poor" and Lu speak quietly as if her voice is coming through a tunnel. I gave her some things to say that would, hopefully, distract Carillo so I could get Rafe to safety.
I was, after all, wearing a wire. It was in a barrette in my hair, a place he didn't even think to check. When I said the magic word, the police would storm in.
I thought it would take weeks, months, to find something to take Peter Carillo down. All it took was five days before he cracked. He kidnapped a priest. He would be in jail for a long, long time.
"Annie, I can barely hear you. Speak up!"
He was straining to listen and walked to the opposite side of the living room. I sat up, braced my back against the wall so I could get to my feet quickly. He turned away and I started to pull my .380, but he turned around again.
"Where are you? I'll come and get you. You can't leave me."
He paced and went to the far side of the kitchen. I didn't like that Rafe was now between him and me. I needed Carillo on my side of the room.
"Get someplace where the phone works!" Carillo screamed and whirled around. "I have the priest here, the man who took you from me. You went to him?" Carillo stood next to Rafe.
I heard sobbing over the phone. Good. I'd told Luisa to cry if she couldn't think of what to say.
"I'm not going to hurt anybody," Carillo said. "Why would you think that? I've never hurt you."
He listened, frowned, then stared at me.
"That bitch told you to say that. I never raped you. Do not say that. We're married. It's not rape!"
Carillo was coming toward me. Good. Focus on me, not my uncle.
Carillo stared at me when he told Annie, "You're my wife. You are supposed to submit to me when and where I want. You can't change the rules. I gave you everything, everything... I can't hear you, dammit! I will find you. I don't care where you are, I will find you and my children and bring you home."
He threw the phone across the room. "Where is she?" he yelled at me. "I couldn't hear hardly anything. Where is she?"
He pulled me up and put his gun to my head.
I was angry and scared. He was too volatile, and I had no idea how to deal with him. "I don't know," I said calmly. "Put the gun down and let Father Morales go."
He pushed me against the wall, but I was expecting it and braced myself. Now he was close. Very close.
The perfect time to go on the offensive.
"Rafe, take cover," I shouted at my uncle as I kicked my boot deep into Carillo's groin. He grunted, bent over, but didn't drop his gun.
I took advantage of his momentary pain and kicked his legs out from under him. Rafe hadn't moved. I heard pounding on the front door; the police were ramming their way in.
I slammed my heel on the wrist of his hand that held the gun, forcing him to drop it. He did, and I tried to kick it away when he grabbed my ankle and pulled me down to the floor. He reached for the gun, and I brawled. He was bigger than me, and being on the floor wasn't to my advantage. Women could fight men, but not hand to hand. We had different tools, focusing on pain points and skills, but men were generally stronger and hand-to-hand was almost always a losing proposition.
But I couldn't get to my gun in my boot without making myself far more vulnerable.
I sprung up and away from him because he was focusing more on getting his gun than on me. But then he had it in his hand and aimed it at Rafe as the front door burst open.
I threw myself at Carillo because I knew down to my soul that in his rage he would kill my uncle.
He turned the gun toward me, but I didn't stop, even when he fired. Even when I felt a burn in my left arm. I punched him with the palm of my hand in the solar plexus, which knocked him to his knees and had him gasping for air.
By that time, the police were inside and had Carillo on his stomach, hands behind his back, putting handcuffs on him as he struggled to breathe.
I went to Rafe and hugged him tightly.
"Are you okay?" I asked. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"No," he said. He touched my arm. "You're bleeding."
"It's a scratch." I stared at him. "You knew Jack and I were at the church—why did you go with him? You could have signaled."
He shook his head. "I never thought I was scared to die. Death is a beginning, not an ending. I will be with our Heavenly Father. I know that with all my heart and soul. But when he told me he would kill me if I didn't come, I believed him. In that moment, I didn't want to die. I was selfish."
"No," I said. "You are human." I hugged him again. "I'm not ready to lose you, Uncle Rafe."
Jack came in, his face first panicked, then relieved. He hugged me, then squeezed Rafe's shoulder. He stared at my arm. "You need a paramedic."
"I've had worse."
"Humor me. There's an ambulance on the way."
"No," I moaned. "One condition—I don't want to go to the hospital. The paperwork alone will drive me to drink. I'll let the paramedic clean and tape the wound, okay?"
"I'm going to stand over you, and if it's worse than you say, you're going."
"It's not."
"We're going to have to talk to the police, give statements."
"Let's do it now," I said, "because there's no way I'm missing Pop and Abuela's party tomorrow."
I smiled at Uncle Rafe; he didn't smile back. He was still processing everything that had happened, and I wished I could tell him that it was absolutely normal to fear death, even when you believed in the afterlife.
I believed. Maybe not as strongly or devoutly as my uncle, but I sensed something else was out there. But I could wait for Heaven because I had my family, my community, my calling right here on earth.
And there were more people like Annie Carillo who needed my help. Because as my dad always told me, "If not you, who? If not now, when?"