Where the Sun Sets (15 page)

“No sir...I am not scared of you.” Antonia
answered in a breathless whisper, as that was all she could manage.
Once again the stranger withdrew to the edge and forcefully jammed
himself back inside of her. “Does it hurt?” She could not answer;
her head was swimming from the pain. Again he repeated his steps.
Again he asked her, “Does it hurt? Tell me, how does it feel.”

Antonia blinked her eyes hard trying to clear
her head. Yes it hurt. It hurt more than anything she had ever
experienced. But she had been learned in her short life that
complaints only brought more of the same and she definitely did not
want more so she was not about to answer honestly. “No, sir...” she
whispered. “It...it feels real good sir.”

“Good, cause I wouldn’t want to hurt ya.” And
with that he started to pump, and in less than a minute had emptied
himself into her.

He held her in place until he had shrunken
down and fallen out. He then released her, to fall on the floor.
She managed to catch her weight with her hands. Her eyes were open,
but she saw nothing. She sat back on her calves and folded her arms
around herself. She was still wearing her tank top styled under
shirt. It did nothing to ease the incredible coldness that
surrounded her. She remained where she was dropped, as the stranger
went about pulling up his pants. He made a quick stop in front of
the mirror to check his appearance before walking over to the paper
contract Salvatore had left for him to sign. He had just finished
placing his mark upon the paper, when Sal opened the door to the
room.

Salvatore only glanced at Antonia for a
moment before smiling over to the stranger. “Come on kid, dinners
ready.”

The stranger walked towards the doorway with
the paper in hand and extended it out to Salvatore, who accepted it
with a wide smile. “Find everything to your liking?” The stranger’s
smile was his only response, as he made eye contact with Juliet.
Salvatore never looked at Juliet as he told her, “Go clean up in
there.” Tilting his head towards the bedroom.

While Salvatore and his guest ate their
dinner, Juliet went to the bedroom to check on Antonia. Her heart
ached as she saw the child sitting in a ball on the floor, half
dressed. “Anthony, Anthony sweetie, are you OK?” Antonia never
looked up. Juliet knelt down beside the child. “Antonia,” Her
mother called as she lifted the child’s chin with her hand.
“Antonia, are you alright?” There was no recognition in the girl’s
eyes.

Juliet felt a slight bit of concern as she
helped the lifeless child to her feet. “Let’s just get you cleaned
up a bit, maybe then you can talk to me?” She asked hopefully, not
expecting a response. The two went into the bathroom, where Juliet
put Antonia in the tub and quickly bathed her. She then wrapped a
towel around the child and carried her out to the bedroom. She sat
Antonia on the bed and went about tidying up the room. She picked
up the dress and the nylons and went back in the bathroom to place
them into the hamper. When she returned Antonia was no longer on
the bed. The towel that she had been wrapped in was lying on the
floor.

Juliet bent down to pick up the towel and
noticed a small discolored area on the carpet. She ran her fingers
through it and knew that it was blood. She realized it must have
been Antonia’s, since this was the same spot she had found her when
she came into the room the first time. Holding the towel, Juliet
pressed it down into the stain to soak up as much as possible. She
had temporarily forgotten about Antonia. She became obsessed with
removing the stain before Sal came back into the room.

Juliet was working feverishly on the floor
and did not hear Salvatore enter behind her. He kicked at her hard
in the ribs, knocking her to her side. “What the hell is this?” He
questioned, motioning his arm to the bedroom window. Juliet had no
idea as to what he was referring. While she was forcing herself to
stand, withstanding the pain in her side, she noticed Antonia. The
child was sitting, naked on the floor, in front of the window. She
had her legs crossed Indian style and her hands were folded in
front of her. She was staring out the window, as a breeze blew in
and played upon her face.

Salvatore walked over to where she sat and
placed himself between her and the window. If Antonia saw him, she
made no indication. She just kept staring, as if through him, out
the window. Salvatore glanced over at Juliet, who looked completely
lost. He looked back at the child on the floor.

“You’re supposed to stand up when I enter the
room, little woman. Have you temporarily forgotten, or do you need
to be retrained?” Antonia made no move. Salvatore felt she was
being defiant and his anger swelled. He grabbed the child’s throat
and raised her to a standing position. Although she was now
standing, she was still staring out the window, far away. Salvatore
backhanded her. Like a punching dummy, she recovered without
blinking and continued to stare through him. A droplet of blood
left her lip and traveled down her chin. Salvatore felt concerned,
and he did not know why. ‘Weakness.’, he told himself. He had let
the child have too much freedom. He had become weak in her eyes. He
removed his belt. “I will teach you to respect me woman!” He folded
his belt in half and grabbed both ends with one hand. “Now turn
around so as I can remind you of your manners.” Antonia never
moved, she did however, finally make eye contact with Sal.

Juliet was standing frozen in her place. She
witnessed the exchange between her husband and Antonia. She felt a
strange sense of pride in her daughter’s behavior. She was not sure
why, but she was no longer afraid for her. She watched as the belt
came down across the child’s face and chest. Since she refused to
turn, Sal was even more determined to teach her a lesson. But after
the third crack with his belt, he stopped and just stared at the
child. Antonia recovered from each crack with numbness. She never
flinched or cried out. She never put up her hands to defend
herself. Salvatore realized he had lost all control of the child
and he felt a twinge of fear.

He tossed his belt on the bed and stomped out
of the room. The front door slammed shut behind him as he escaped
into the night. He sped off in his pick-up, as he raced for the
town pub. He did not know what just happened back in his house, but
he sure as hell wanted to get away from it.

Juliet took a cautious step towards her
daughter. She wrung the towel in her hands without thinking.
“Anthony, honey...” She stepped a little closer. “Mommy’s here
sweetie. Honey?” Closer still she crept. She saw the red welts rise
upon the child’s skin. Not at all as bad as she had expected
though. Juliet took notice of a tiny drop of blood that had raced
down Antonia’s leg towards her ankle. Another followed quickly
behind the first, as Juliet quickened her steps to her daughter’s
side.

Antonia continued to stare out the window. A
new breeze had come in and touched her face. Gently she closed her
eyes in acceptance. “Antonia, honey, open your eyes, please
sweetie. It’s mommy, Anthony. I love you.” Juliet gave up trying
and after wiping away the blood from the child’s face and leg, she
went to get a night shirt for the child. She placed the shirt over
Antonia’s head, and pulled both of the child’s arms through the
sleeves. She carried the child to the bed and pulling back the
covers laid her down gently. Antonia rolled over to her side and
continued to stare out the window. Juliet felt a pang of loss. She
pulled back Anthony’s hair, which had fallen in front of her face,
apparently unnoticed. Tucking the hair behind the child’s ear, she
bent to kiss her cheek. “I love you Anthony, mommy loves you very
much.” The silence was thick in the small room.

“If you loved me, you’d make him stop.”
Juliet’s head snapped back as if she had been smacked. She looked
down at her daughter, who still looked out the window. Not at all
sure if Anthony had actually spoken, or if it was an inner voice,
Juliet stood up. Anthony never blinked. Never made any notice of
her mother’s presence.

Juliet left the room, stopping for a moment
in the doorway to gaze back at the child she lost just moments ago.
She felt empty and alone as she walked back to the kitchen to clean
up.

Salvatore was hurting. He felt his world
breaking up in front of him and he did not know how to stop it. He
drank until the bar closed and then bought a bottle to drink on his
way home.

Juliet crawled into bed beside her daughter
after cleaning up the house. The child was still staring out the
window. Juliet thought she would be asleep by now. It had been over
an hour since she put her to bed. Perhaps she was asleep, asleep
with her eyes open. Juliet put her arm around her daughter and
snuggled up close. Antonia was cold to the touch and never
responded to her mother’s tenderness. Juliet checked to make sure
the child was breathing. Satisfied that she was, Juliet closed her
eyes and tried to escape the day.

Salvatore pulled his car up to his house. He
parked it a little too close to a tree. When he opened the door to
get out, the door hit the tree. In a drunken fit of rage he opened
and closed the door over and over again, smashing both the tree and
truck door. The window of the door shattered as he threw the door
open one last time and started to climb out. Cursing, he climbed
the steps to his house. Opening the front door, he felt relief that
his women were not standing there waiting for him obediently. He
managed to find his way to his couch, where he crashed and passed
out.

Antonia continued to stare out the window of
the bedroom out into the darkness. The darkness came in through the
window and scooped her up into its embrace. She floated out of the
house, carried by the darkness. Falling, she felt herself falling.
But this time she was not afraid. She felt strong and self
assured.

Chapter 16

Harold was not comfortable with the
information he had just devoured. There was nothing to imply the
recent shooting had anything to do with Antonia’s past. Yet nothing
of what he had read had suggested it had not. Harold tried to tell
himself it was all just part of his over protectiveness for the
child, that and a deep hollow boredom that begged to be dealt
with.

He sat back in his chair and brought his
hands together in pyramid position in front of his face. Maybe he
was just getting old. Getting old? There’s a laugh, maybe he was
old. What was it, what was the missing piece? He reached out for
his coffee, but the cup was empty. He placed it down next to the
phone, and let his hand slide from the cup to the phone’s receiver.
Should he call Sharon back? Why though, what could she add?

He pulled his hand back again and he sat for
a minute more just staring at the phone. Again his hand reached out
for the receiver. He picked it up and listened for the dial tone
before he dialed her number for the second time that morning.

“Sharon, sorry to bother you. It’s me
again.”

“What can I do for you this time boss?”

“Nothing probably, I’m not sure. Just a
feeling, like I’m missing something.”

“You OK, Harry, ya want me to run over to
your place?”

“No, no it’s nothing like that. It’s just;
well it’s this Dal Santo thing.”

“Listen, you have to let it go. What happened
wasn’t your fault. Stop kicking yourself.”

“Christ Sharon, if I wanted to have my ass
wiped, I’d check myself into a nursing home. What I am trying to
say is that I don’t feel as if I have what I need here. Instinct
tells me this shooting has to do with her past. I have looked all
through my files and, I don’t know, maybe I am just looking too
hard.”

“OK, boss, tell ya what. Meet me down at
Joe’s in twenty minutes. You can by me a cup of coffee and you can
tell me what it is you’re missing. How’s that sound Chief, you
game?” Harold did a once over his desk before replying. “Thanks
hon. Sounds like a good idea. I appreciate you taking the
time.”

It only took Harold ten minutes to walk to
Joe’s, where he ordered the coffee and some sticky buns. He picked
a booth by the front door. Not only did this allow Sharon to locate
him quickly, but it looked less like a date. For some reason, the
latter part was important to Harold.

Sharon walked in, right on schedule. Harold
stood up as she slid herself into the booth. She had her hair done
in a loose Gerry curl. Her normal caramel colored skin had a darker
tone that whispered ‘I spent some time on the beaches of Maryland
not too long ago.’ “You look wonderful, Sharon, just
wonderful.”

“You look well Harold, like you haven’t slept
in three months, but healthy.” And after several minutes of
reminiscing Sharon questioned, “Tell me, what’s the thread that has
you connected to this shooting. Where did it happen again?
Connecticut? What makes you inclined to believe that it had
anything to do with what happened here more than thirty years
ago.”

Harold scanned the tiny snack shop for
intruding ears. “I’m not sure, like I said on the phone. Something
doesn’t feel right. Like something was missing from the files. A
report, a photo, anything, something, I don’t know.”

Sharon knew her boss pretty well. There was a
time when, if he felt something was missing, then you could be sure
something was missing. But as she looked at him this morning, she
was not so sure. Before her sat an old and withered man. His hair
was greasy and looked as if it hadn’t been brushed in weeks. His
shirt, which was covered by a suit coat that probably could have
stood up on its own, was stained with an assortment of breakfast
samples.

Sharon glanced thoughtlessly at her watch.
She placed a gentle hand on one of Harold’s. “Listen boss, if it’s
your instincts talking, then ya gotta listen. But where would the
missing piece be located? Could it be located in Connecticut? There
was no other family right? And her father died in prison they said.
I’ll go back to the station and see what I can find out for you.
But I am pretty sure we have everything you have.” Sharon slid
herself to the edge of the booth and started to stand up. “Have you
tried calling Chester? He’s still stationed down at the prison.
Maybe he could give you something more to go on.”