Page 115 of Pieces of Ash

“I’m fine,” he says, but his eyes are wide and worried when he shifts them to me. “You’re going to do great, baby. I’ll be just inside the door. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

My racing heart makes me feel light-headed. I’m not ready to come face-to-face with Mosier.

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll just…”

The car pulls into the driveway and parks in front of the house.

Julian pulls me into his arms and kisses me hard. “Be strong. It’ll be okay. I’m right behind you.”

Then he steps to the side of the door, so he’ll be hidden when I open it.

I hear footsteps on the stairs. Three more to the door.

Knock, knock.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, counting from five. Five…four…three…two…

Knock, knock.

“Coming!” I call.

I dart a glance at Julian, who has his gun drawn, standing against the wall behind the door. He nods at me.

Be with me, Tig. Please be with me, Mam.

I reach for the lock and turn it, then twist the doorknob, opening the door. There is a screen between us, but it’s unlocked from Agent Simmons’s visit.

And there he is. My stepfather.

Dressed in a dark suit and a white dress shirt, open at the neck, he reeks of aftershave and cigar smoke, his jet-black hair slicked back from his ugly face. A shudder slides through my body and across my arms over my chest.

“Cenusa,” says Mosier, his eyes dark and angry, his lips tilting up into a humorless smile. “Surprise.”

“Frate,” I say, gulping softly. “How…how did you find me?”

“Frate?” He chuckles like something is funny. “No, no, no. Don’t you mean…Daddy?”

I stare at him, realizing that this is information he could only have gotten from Father Joseph, and it squeezes my heart.

“You saw Father Joseph,” I whisper.

“Poor man. I heard he passed away. Heart attack, yes?”

“Yes.”

“Old men die. It happens.”

“Especially when they come into contact with you,” I say, willing myself not to cry.

“Cenusa, my darling…he told me lies about your dear sister.” He grins. “Such lies about my beloved wife.”

“What lies?”

“He told me that she had a baby eighteen years ago. A little girl she passed off as her sister.”

I lift my chin. “It’s true. She was my mother.”

“Her name is not on your birth certificate.”