The Witness

Chapter 20 - Zaccheus

"Something is wrong," said Steven as they drove home. He glanced at Rosa and frowned.

Rosa was leaning against the window. "How did you find Sir Gustavo?" she asked. "How sure are you that we can trust him?"

"Well, first of all, there's his experience in murder cases," Steven replied, focusing once more on his driving. "Second, he's very transparent. Each source is accounted for. And third, he's as fearless in pursuing justice as we are. Why?"

Rosa paused. "I'm not sure if he's on our side."

"What do you mean?"

Rosa sat up and looked out. The road looked familiar. They were nearing the Manila Bay, which meant that they were quickly approaching the street where Sylvia died. "Tito Steven," she said, "can we stop by the church for a while?"

"What for?" Steven asked. "I already gave the keys to Father Gerard days ago."

"I'll explain later," Rosa said. "There's something Joaquin wants me to do."

A short silence, then Steven nodded. "Sure." He changed the car's direction and headed to St. Martin de Porres Parish.

They parked. There were only a few other cars. Steven turned off the engine and sighed. "Please don't make any rash decisions, iha."

"I promise," she said. "I'm just going to talk to Joaquin's friends. He said he wanted to hear from them." This wasn't entirely untrue.

Steven nodded. "Alright. And I can use this time to pray."

A novena was being held inside the parish, and a nun was reading at the podium. Steven sat on one of the back pews and nodded at Rosa, who nodded back and walked to the side of the church, heading straight to the back of the altar where Joaquin mentioned once was the hangout and waiting area of the altar boys and readers.

True enough, there were three young boys in shirts and jeans in the short hall that ran between the church office and the back of the altar. There were altar boys' robes folded on a table near a long wooden bench, where two of them sat. One boy, who appeared to be twelve or thirteen at the most, was leaning against the wall, playing something on his phone. Probably Snake. The other two, who were around Rosa's age or maybe older, sat on the bench, talking to each other in low, serious whispers. All three looked up when Rosa entered.

"Uh...hi," she began awkwardly. It was one of those moments. With so many questions in her head, she had no clue which to ask first.

"Hi," said one of the older boys. "Are you lost?"

Rosa shook her head. "Um, no, I just want to ask something." She paused. "It's about Joaquin."

The younger boy's jaw dropped. The two older ones looked at each other before gasping. "You're--you're Rosa Torre!" the other older boy exclaimed.

Rosa raised her eyebrow. "You know me?"

"You're the talk of the whole town," the boy explained. "Haven't you read the chain text messages? They all say that you're a liar who cuts class and does it with her uncle willingly."

"Wait, what?"

"Don't worry," said the other boy, standing up. "No one believes it. Chief Martinez frequents the church but everyone knows he's part of the drug trade and his son is a gangster and an addict. We're all on your side." He paused. "Well, most of us. Has Joaquin told you yet?"

"Told me what?" Rosa asked again, although this time she had a clue of the answer.

The boy held out his hand. "Leo Manabat," he introduced himself. "That's Efren and Rudy." He pointed at the boy his age, and the younger one, who shook Rosa's hand in order. "The four of us--me, Efren, Rudy, and Joaquin--are all scholars of St. Martin de Porres Parish, and we're very grateful for that, but things are not what they seem."