Maria Gonzales.
Alberado Luca.
Cristian (no last name).
Elodia Cruz (daughter Estella, age one).
Emilio.
Eminilada.
Hector.
Herminia…
On and on the introductions went. Seventeen people in all said their names, some in voices that were small and fearful, others strong and almost defiant. Cori and Finn lost track of who was who but they nodded and smiled at each person as they spoke. The last person to introduce himself was:
"Father Patrick. I minister at Our Lady of Tears. These are my parishioners."
Finn rose and shook the priest's hand.
"You've a good grip there, father," Finn said.
"You better have a good one around here if you're going to help your neighbors with the chores."
The priest was the only white face in the sea of brown ones but each brown face was unique, representing many nations. Finn saw the Spanish influence in those from Mexico, and the darker skinned South American Indians in others. Father Patrick sat on the floor between Finn and Cori. When they both offered their chairs, he waved them away.
"My parents were hippies. The floor was where we ate, slept and sat," he said happily.
"I would have expected you to turn into a guru instead of a priest," Cori said.
"God works in mysterious ways." He chuckled before turning his attention to Gregorio who was standing in the center of the room.
Gregorio had arranged the meeting and it was he who would take responsibility should it go badly. He spoke in a measured voice. While Finn and Cori could pick a few words out here and there, Father Patrick had to translate in full. He did so quietly, obviously fluent in the language.
"He's telling them to be honest. He's telling them that you and your partner are trustworthy and want nothing else but to help them find their loved ones."
Suddenly, the people around the room moved, and muttered. Two women with babies held them closer and raised their voices.
"He's telling them how Aurora's son died. That it is true he was killed and did not have an accident or run away."
Cori and Finn looked at the woman who sat center on the couch, staring in front of her, tears in her eyes. A woman on her left held her arm; the woman on the right dabbed her own tears. While they bore witness to her suffering, Aurora Rosalis sat strong, accepting of what had happened.
"Gregorio is saying that you will help them find all their men and will not stop until you do."
Cori tapped the priest's shoulder and kept her voice low so she wouldn't disturb what was going on.
"What does he mean all their men?"
People had started to talk to Gregorio, and it was clear there were some things to be worked through before they shared anything with Finn and Cori. Father Patrick unwound his long legs and stood up.
"He means the ones in Mexico," Father Patrick whispered. When Gregorio looked their way the priest apologized for interrupting.
"Perdonanos. Volveremos."
Father Patrick motioned for Finn and Cori to follow him to the front porch. The horses whinnied at their arrival and then settled down again. The priest left the door open so that he could still hear what was going on inside.
"I told him we would be back in a moment. I didn't want to disturb him but you should know that what has happened to a few of the young men in the last year – them disappearing and all – well, it brings up some very bad memories."
"Of what?" Cori asked.
"Asesino fantasma – the ghost killer."
"Seriously, father, if the supernatural is at play here you'll not be needing us," Finn said.
"No, that's just what they called the person because he appeared and disappeared so quickly. Unfortunately, when he disappeared so did the young men."
The priest laughed a little, but it wasn't a happy sound. He leaned up against the porch post.
"A while back – maybe three years or so – young men started disappearing from a small village in Mexico across the border from San Diego and just past Tijuana. I think there were maybe six in all. Only two were ever found. Those two were buried in shallow graves out in the desert. But not far out. A mile or two from the town."
"Much like the man we found a few days ago," Finn said.
"Sounds like it," Father Patrick answered. "Anyway, because the people were poor and had no money to bribe the police, nothing was ever done. By the way, half those people in there brought money with them to bribe you."
"I hope you told them that isn't a dandy idea," Cori said.
"I told them, but it's a cultural thing. Very hard to unlearn," the priest said. "So, onward. One day some older men saw a white truck with a pale man inside. He was talking to the young men, trying to get one of them into the truck with him. The men didn't like that and they ran him off. They knew there was no work to be had like the man promised and some of their people were already missing. The old man in the truck was probably no one but people were afraid nonetheless. The white truck, the way this man looked, well it snowballed into a legend. The old men swore they had come face to face with a ghost. The women went to church to pray for God to protect them and their children. For insurance, they went to the Curandera who took their money and—"
"And that would be?" Finn interrupted.
"Oh, sorry. That's a witch doctor. Lots of potions and spells to keep bad things away," Father Patrick explained. "Or potions and spells to make good things happen. It sort of all depends on what you're expecting."
"A little like praying to a patron saint," Finn said.
"A little. The difference is that faith is placed in a man dressed in feathers and gold chains instead of God. Anyway, the young men armed themselves but, after that, no one disappeared again. The old men took credit for being strong and scaring the ghost man away, the women took credit for their prayers, the Curandera took credit for the spells and the young men took credit because the ghost knew that they would kill him if he came back again and send his soul to hell."
Father Patrick opened the door.
"Some of them believe that the ghost has followed them here. It's kind of a 'just when you thought it was safe to go back in the water' thing."
"Yeah, well, I think we can pretty much rule out any spooks," Cori said.
"Although, whatever is going on is pretty scary," he said. His ears pricked when he heard his name called. Father Patrick stepped aside and held the door for Cori. "Ladies first."
She shot him a big grin as she stepped over the threshold.
"Bummer you're a priest, Father."
It was ten-thirty and Finn and Cori had learned a few things: tired babies looked like rag dolls when they fell asleep in their mother's arms yet a mother's grip never faltered, old men snoozed and woke throughout a long night, strong men huddled, shared opinions under their breath, weighed words and intentions and, in the end, were looked to for final truths.
In all, five people had spoken about Asesino fantasma – the ghost killer, and three had told their stories about their men who had recently gone missing.
The young bride of Santos – a name Gregorio had given Finn – clutched at her little daughter and talked about her good husband who worked in a lumberyard and on the corners so that he could take care of her. They had only been married a little while and he had never missed a night away from home.
Pacal's mother was not there. She worked nights cleaning offices, but her friend spoke for her. And others chimed in. Many of these people knew Pacal and thought highly of him as a quiet young man dedicated to his family. He went to church. He was a handsome boy and he was valiente.
"Courageous," Father Patrick translated.
"Why do they say that?" Finn wanted to know.
"…his brother is big in the Dogtown Rifa."
"That's not good," Cori muttered.
Father Patrick nodded and tried to keep up with the stream of Spanish coming from the woman.
There is bad blood between them.
The brother brought his homies to the house…
Everyone in the neighborhood knew that they wanted to jump Pacal. For a while people thought Pacal would…
Father Patrick held up a finger. He twisted his head a little as if that could make him hear better.
"…Pacal wouldn't do it. His brother finally gave up. Until he found out Pacal was dating a white girl. The brother was angry about la chica blanca. Now that Pacal is missing, the mother is afraid to even speak his name for fear of angering her oldest son…"
The priest listened again, translating it all in his head, delaying his translation by only a few seconds.
"The older son predicted that Pacal would come to a worse end for dating a white girl than he would for being in a gang. She says everyone knows that's true. She says the police should talk to the white girl."
Cori listened. She made notes. She took all this in without comment, but the way the woman spit out the words 'white girl' cut her to the core.
Just before eleven, they called an end to the meeting. Finn and Cori thanked everyone. They accepted the pictures pressed into their hands. Only two were relevant – Santos and Esteban – but others were added to the mix. In the end, Cori held pictures of men who had disappeared into the desert in Mexico, men who were known to have deserted their family, and one of a man who had died but the old lady wanted Cori to take it anyway. What the detectives heard did not warm their hearts, especially the information about Pacal's older brother, a gangbanger, a guy pissed off that his bro ran with a white girl.
"Cori?"
She looked up to see that she was standing alone on the porch. The horses were gone. She could hear the clop of their hooves echoing down the deserted street as their riders made their way slowly home. Finn and Father Patrick waited for her half way between the car and the house. She went down the stairs and joined the two men.
"And on it goes. They run from one misery to another. Such trials. We are blessed, aren't we?" Father Patrick sighed and put his hands in the pockets of his worn black pants as they wandered toward the road.
"There are all sorts of miseries, Father," Finn said, "but in the grand scheme of things, yes, we are blessed."
All three turned toward the house as the lights went out. The dark and the silence settled upon them. Cori kicked at a stone, Finn ambled, and Father Patrick's eyes were on the moon. Each was thinking of another place: Finn of Ireland, Cori of Texas and Father Patrick of his hippie family, no doubt. When they reached the edge of the property, Finn spoke.
"So, father, do you think you can draw up a timeline for us starting with the disappearances in Mexico?"
"I'll try," he said. "Before you go, there is one more thing I should probably mention. I was at an Archdiocesan conference three months ago. I heard some stories. I sort of dismissed them until now."
"Like what?" Cori asked.
"There are two kids – well, young men – who went missing up Palmdale way about a year and a half ago," the priest said. "I knew about Santos, but now with the other three the Palmdale situation is looking a little freaky to me."
They were at the car. Finn had the keys in his hand.
"You know, Father, I can understand those people in the house not reporting these things, but what about you and the Palmdale priest?"
"What would I have reported, Detective O'Brien?" Father Patrick laughed. "Even my own bishop dismissed this all as folklore and family problems. If God's head man was uninterested, what luck would I have with a man of the law?"
"You could have tried," Cori said.
"Hindsight is a wonderful thing and so is context. Considering what we heard tonight, everything looks just a little different. Gregorio was lucky to find you both. I'm not sure that if he had walked into a precinct anyone would have given him the time of day. "Father Patrick gave them a lovely smile. "And with that, I'll say goodnight. Up at five for the six o'clock mass."
"We'll be in touch, Father," Cori said.
"The sooner we can get this squared away the better." Father Patrick shook his head. "It's a pity, isn't it? Not too long ago Santo's wife was in my church getting married, and now she'll be back for her husband's funeral if things go like I think they will. All in the course of a year."
Father Patrick raised a hand. Finn went to shake it. Instead, the priest made the sign of the cross and blessed the detective. Finn colored. Not that he wasn't appreciative of the gesture, he simply wasn't public about his faith.
"I'll be thanking you, Father," Finn said, not wanting to embarrass the man.
"You're more than welcome. He turned to Cori but her palm went out.
"I'm good, father," she said. "O'Brien will share."
"Good to know." the young priest smiled. "Good night then. And thank you for listening. Thank you for wanting to do something."
They said their goodbyes but the priest turned back once more.
"One more thing. The Mexico matter? It might be superstition or even stories told to keep the young men close to home, but it was pretty colorful. It was said that the bodies that were found were buried in God's grace."
"How would anyone know?" Cori asked.
"They say the corpses were laid out like they were in a casket. Someone had put holy cards under their hands." Father Patrick shrugged. "Go figure, huh?"