Chapter 459: Katrina XVIII—Unable to Save

Oh she wanted to hurt him, peel the flesh off his skull, rip the hair from his head; she wanted to destroy this man, if only for the crime of being the last one to see Chloe. Squirming like a helpless woman on her floor, what right did he have to look at her with such surprised hurt eyes, asking for pity? His face was red where she’d had her fingers, and his hair twisted, he rubbed it with one hand but when he spoke, his voice sounded cool and collected. “As God is my witness,” Mallory said, “my only wish, my only hope for today was that I would be able to deliver the girl to you. I swear.”

He caught his breath and sat up, leaning against the back of the couch, his legs splayed, arms limp at his sides, didn’t even look at her. He only sighed. Katrina didn’t have the patience for this.

“Her father, my stepfather,” Katrina said, forcing her voice to a stilted calm, she wanted to show him that she wasn’t all psychotic and that she knew things as well, that he didn’t have to fear holding anything back from her, and then she could kill him, “sold her to an agency, when she was very small. I fought hard to get here to retrieve her but it was already too late, they told me they’d adopted her out to a family who always wanted a daughter but did not want to go through paper work. I couldn’t get anything more from them because they disappeared on me, I don’t know if they changed their front or shut down or what, but they vanished. What do you know?”

The priest didn’t look at her, but he lifted his head, his jaw moving, and when he spoke he continued to stare at her wall, as if he were a robot. Scared out of his pants more than likely. “Adoption, yes, that makes sense.”

Katrina frowned. “Well what do you know?”

He pressed his fingers over his eyes and groaned, a man exhausted and tormented. Katrina put in mind that this man was reputed for charitable works, for good intentions, she had to believe this much, she had to believe that Chloe at least had something going for her. “I don’t know if this was the same organization.” He whispered. “But, this friend of mine had seen her before, almost… begging on the streets and he became concerned about her when…”

On the streets? Oh God… there is no… Katrina’s chest tightened. “They were using her as a prostitute? She’s a child! A baby!” But she couldn’t cry, as much as the fear and horror clanged in her brain, she couldn’t cry, and she wouldn’t in front of him. She’d die first or punish him for it.

“NO, no!” Mallory exclaimed looking at her as if newly horrified himself. “No, perhaps they would have soon but they were only, eh, preparing her, I think, making her street smart. This much my friend had begun to unravel about the girl, before…”

Katrina looked at him, his eyes looked so full of hurt, his features so handsome and gentle perhaps, she wanted to believe him. After all why would he have taken the time to come directly to her? Why would he have taken the effort to track her down? “Before what?”

“He died,” Mallory said and she saw the grief, his face crumpled but he took a deep breath and straightened up. At least he wasn’t lying about his friend. “He died. And, and I’m not altogether certain that institution didn’t have anything to do with it. He had just begun to, make efforts to contact little Chloe when it happened, and I can’t believe that…”

Conspiracy theories? Katrina frowned. “What did he kill himself?”

Mallory blanched. “Officially but, the timing it so suspicious.” He turned to her now on the floor and held out his hands, “Miss Volanges you see that’s why I couldn’t just go in a take her. A complicated network seemed to be holding onto her, I got close to her only once and she refused my help, she was a smarty young woman, she had concerns about other unfortunates in a worse situation, she would not have left with me willingly.”

You cowardly bastard. Katrina narrowed her eyes and she looked at him seeing a soft pretty boy priest, if not a pervert than a spineless sniveling useless piece of shit. “How did she die? And how do you know?” It sliced her throat to just say those words and she could not feel any faith or belief in them.

He took in a deep breath. “I went back just four days ago to find her. I resolved that nothing would stop me this time, I would just take the girl and hole up in the nearest police station and sort it out later, and I came prepared. You see if I had just called the authorities they probably would have destroyed her upon the first sign of discovery, do you understand?”

Katrina turned her head to an angle, looked at him from the corner of her eye. Yes she did understand that concept, somewhat. “She was a hostage.” And one cannot just storm in to rescue a hostage; she knew that, or else risk a room full of dead bodies.

“Yes!” Mallory exclaimed holding out his hand to her. “A hostage and I thought that if I approached this institution perhaps under the guise of purchasing her, maybe money would speak louder than anything. And they believed me, for the most part, but when they learned of whom I was interested in, they became quite disappointed, they told me she was dead.”

His eyes filled with tears and Katrina hated him for sobbing. He moaned for God to forgive him but the girl was dead, he’d failed and needed forgiveness from her and Chloe. A pitiful man, his face in his hands, sobbing, groans, heaving back, pathetic and useless. Katrina felt her insides tighten when he fished for a handkerchief and blew his nose in it. Again it struck her, what right did he have to cry? What right at all?

“Don’t you dare cry for her, she’d laugh,” Katrina hissed.

And the tears stopped. He looked at her, eyes drying his mouth open. “How did you do that? The sound of your voice, it,” he put his hand over his chest, “It stopped me right here, it paralyzed me. What is it about you? Where did you come from?”

“Don’t blame me for your own psychosis,” Katrina sniffed, she’d heard words like that before from men, and it never ceased to piss her off. Stupid men. “And you’re not asking me any questions I’m asking you. So just because they told you she was dead you just believed them?” Leave it to a stupid man. “Who are these people anyway?”

He looked down and reached into his pocket, “Here you go.” He said and he pulled out a folded piece of paper, it looked like a newspaper clipping. “She dashed into the street foolishly, and a car struck her. It’s all right there, if you read it. My condolences, Miss Volanges, but it appears to have been if anything instantaneous. I don’t think she suffered.”

Katrina ripped the clipping away from him and scowled and read. “It doesn’t say her name here, there’s nothing here, it just says an unidentified girl.” Hope, the only thing she could cling to if it didn’t say a thing it didn’t mean a thing. “This could be any girl. They could be making it up.”

“I took that from the newspaper myself, it happened a day before I arrived. They told me someone from the “agency” claimed her as a niece and she was buried but under which name I can’t tell you, I don’t know.”

“You’re lying!” Katrina breathed, “This could be any girl.”

Mallory seemed animated now, energized and Katrina only felt cold and stunned, and angry. He pulled out another slip of paper, talked but she could not hear his words. She took the paper from him, the address, and the name of the agency. Another modeling agency, the same one, a different name, those fuckers, she’d destroy them. She clutched the paper in her hand and his voice became clear to her again.

“If you want we can go together and…”

Katrina pinned him with a glare and he froze still. “I’ll do it myself. Now get out, and never try to contact me again, you hear? If you try I’ll either kill you or turn you in for everything you knew and didn’t do, hear me?”

His eyes widened and he stood up, shaking. “I’ve done everything I can to help you, a stranger and your sister, another stranger, all out of the good of my heart, the least you can do is thank…”

“I’m not going to thank you for your tears or your useless efforts, for all I know you probably fumbled your way around and got her killed, no way in hell they’d ever recognize you for anything but a priest. I said get out!”

He staggered back and then she saw his eyes darken with anger, hurt, maybe even a little hate. Those eyes, she knew that expression, yeah you’re a bitch, that’s what they said. He took his coat, and he left and when he did she locked the door.

She’s not dead. Katrina whispered to herself and she stared at the precious address in her hand. She’s not dead.