Bonnie (13 page)

“But you aimed for his hand.”

“It was too late to—” He drew a deep shaky breath. “I could have killed him with that bowie if I’d struck his back. I couldn’t kill him, Eve.”

“I know. And that’s why I don’t want to expose Joe and Catherine if you’re faced with that choice again.”

“But you’re willing to risk yourself,” he added mockingly. “It appears you’re not as smart as Joe and Catherine. Where’s your sense of self-preservation?”

“You’ll do what you have to do. I’m not afraid no matter what choice you make.”

“How fatalistic,” he said. “I’m not sure I like your attitude. You were always a fighter, Eve.”

“Who says I’m not now?” She shrugged. “But I guess I am a fatalist in this. I’ll do everything I can to survive, but this time I may not have any say in it.” She stared him in the eye. “And you might not either. It could be that’s why we’re supposed to be together.”

“Don’t be melodramatic. We’re not going to die,” he said. “I won’t accept any of that bull.” He was silent a moment. “I don’t want to die. There was a time, when I thought I might be the bastard who had killed Bonnie, that I didn’t want to live. I thought I should burn in hell. Then Catherine came along and told me in her less-than-gentle way that I was an idiot to take Black’s word, anyone’s word, without positive proof and kicked me into high gear. She said she’d learned a hell of a lot about me when we were playing cat and mouse while she was stalking me in those woods in Wisconsin. If she didn’t believe I was capable of killing Bonnie, why should I? She convinced me. I’d fight to live now.” He frowned. “If I’m not to blame for it after all. I’ve just remembered something Jacobs said when I was questioning him. He was blaming everyone but himself for Bonnie’s death. Including me. He said it was my fault.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t latch on to the blame before this,” she said in exasperation. “Dammit, you said he was blaming everyone. Why should it be your fault if you didn’t kill Bonnie?”

“But it was my uncle who killed Jacobs. Who might have killed Bonnie.”

“Then it was his crime.”

“Maybe.” He pulled onto the entrance ramp for Mobile airport. “We’ll have to see, won’t we?”

CHAPTER

7

“FORGIVE ME, FATHER, FOR I HAVE
sinned. It’s been six weeks since my last confession.” Ted Danner closed his eyes as he bowed his head in the confessional. “It wasn’t my fault, Father. I did what I should have done when a demon tries to do evil. You’ve always told me I have to fight the demons.” He added bitterly, “I know you meant the demons inside me, but I can’t win those battles. But even if you don’t believe me, there are other demons, and I can sometimes win over them.” He could feel the tears well to his eyes. “What else could I do? It was a wicked demon, and I had to strike out before it devoured John, Father Barnabas. It had teeth that were sharp as knives.…” He swallowed as he remembered the blood gushing from Jacobs as his knife went into his chest. “I’ve tried so hard to hide from them. But I’d warned this demon that he mustn’t do evil. I did warn him, Father.”

“I know how you’ve fought them, Ted.” Father Barnabas paused before asking, “Just how did you strike out?”

“I don’t remember.” It was not the truth, and he’d have to confess that the next time he came to confession. Lying was only a small sin. But he couldn’t tell the priest what the demon had forced him to do. Father Barnabas was the only one who could save him, and this sin was too great to forgive. He might not intercede for him and he’d be left to burn in hell. That couldn’t happen, God listened to priests. “Forgive me, Father. It wasn’t my fault. I left him alone for years, but I couldn’t do it any longer. It would have destroyed me.”

“Only God can destroy you, Ted.” Another pause. “I haven’t seen you for weeks. I’ve told you before that the confessional is important for you. You need it.”

“I know. But I’ve been good, Father. My thoughts have been pure. I’ve done good deeds. I’ve tried to make amends for my sins. I know I shouldn’t have missed confession.” He whispered, “Nor have fought the demon. Give me a penance. Make me clean again.”

“If you don’t remember what you did, how can I know what penance to give you? Think. Tell me, Ted.”

He could feel himself being swayed by the priest’s persuasiveness as he always was whenever he was near him. All Father Barnabas had to do was stare into his eyes with that look that seemed to have almost hypnotic power, and Ted wanted to do anything, give anything. “I told you, I can’t do that. Why do you keep asking me?” He could feel the rage rising in him, and he had to control it. He had to remember that Father Barnabas wasn’t one of the demons, he was Danner’s salvation. The priest told him so all the time. “And God cast out Lucifer. He knew how evil demons can be. He would forgive me. You have to forgive me, too.”

“Ted, it’s not up to me. It’s in God’s hands. Let’s pray and ask Him for forgiveness.”

“He doesn’t listen to me.” His voice was tense with anger. “Why should He? You’re the one who has to get Him to forgive me. I couldn’t help it. It was like a giant wave of flame that was drowning me. I couldn’t see, couldn’t feel anything but the searing of the— He should have stopped me. I didn’t want to hurt them.”

“Them?” Father Barnabas asked slowly. “More than one demon?”

Alligators swarming in the dirty brown pond.

A dark-haired woman, beautiful as a Delilah from Hades, staring fiercely up at him as he had brought the knife down.

Not really demons. But he couldn’t accept that rage, not vengeance could make him do anything so horrible. If he did, then he’d be beyond all forgiveness. “I don’t remember.”

“I think you do, Ted.”

“No.” He wouldn’t remember. Why did the priest keep telling him to remember when it hurt him to do it? Was Father Barnabas his enemy, too? No, that couldn’t be true. Control those thoughts. Change the subject to the reason he was here. He forced a smile. “I’ll try to come here more often, Father. I promise. But I need you to help me now. Did you do what I asked?”

“Of course I did.”

He tensed. “Then tell me what I need to know.”

The priest shook his head.

Danner’s hands clenched.

“I prayed,” Father Barnabas said gently. “I don’t always get an immediate answer. Sometimes, I don’t get the answer you want.”

Danner could feel the rage rising within him. “But you’re a priest, dammit. God won’t listen to me, but He’ll listen to you. I have to
know.
What does she want? What does the little girl want from me?”

“Perhaps if you told me a little more, we could work through this. Who is this little girl?”

“I don’t want to work through anything. Just tell me what she wants, so that I can give it to her. She won’t leave me alone until I do.”

“I’ll pray again, but I can’t promise. Perhaps you could talk to her yourself. Or perhaps her parents.”

Talk to her? Panic was causing his heart to pound. “No, I can’t talk to her. You have to do it.” He jumped to his feet. “I’ll give you more time, but you have to help me. Don’t tell me you can’t do it. You can do anything. You always say you want to help me. This is the only way you can do it. I trust you, Father. Try again. Help me.”

“Ted, talk to me. Not about this little girl if you don’t want me to ask questions about her. Tell me what else you’ve been doing.”

If he talked to the priest, he would be at his mercy as he had been all through the years. Danner could feel his frustration begin to turn to rage. Calm. Don’t turn on the only man who could help him. Don’t let loose the rage. Resist the temptation to step into the cubicle that had heard a million sins and kill the priest. That would truly make him one of the demons that were his enemies.

“Ted?”

“Just pray and find out what I need,” Danner said hoarsely. “And give me forgiveness.”

“If you were in the right, why would you need forgiveness?”

Why did the priest keep asking him questions?
Kill
him.

No, that was the demon whispering. He couldn’t listen.

He jumped to his feet. “I have to go. Good-bye, Father.”

“Don’t go. Come back to my office. You need me, Ted.”

Dear God, he did need him. But he was past the help the priest could give him except for this last request. “I have to go,” he said jerkily as he left the confessional. “Don’t fail me again.”

“Ted!”

Danner ignored Father Barnabas’s shout as he ran out of the church and down the stone steps.

He shouldn’t have come. He was hurting, and Father Barnabas had not been able to heal him. No, that was not true. The priest could do anything, his powers were without limit. He had not wanted to heal him. He had only wanted to tear aside the scabs of Danner’s wounds and watch him bleed.

As his hand had bled when John’s knife entered it.

He looked down at his bandaged hand, and the tears stung his eyes once more. Pain. Broken bones. Not John’s fault. John would never hurt him.

He must have demons whispering in his ear, too.

Catherine Ling. The Delilah.

He had recognized that quality in her when he’d first seen her earlier that night at the casino, when she and John had taken Jacobs captive. Beautiful, exotic, a sorceress weaving her spell. As John and the woman had hunted down Jacobs, so had Danner followed and stalked them, waiting for his chance. He had watched, listened, finding out what he could about her. He had thought that perhaps she could be spared, that she was only a temptress that John was using for pleasure. Then later, when she’d been stalking him at the bayou, he’d known that she had to be destroyed.

He cradled his torn, broken hand. He’d have to change bandages soon. He had taught John how to throw that knife with deadly accuracy at the cabin in Wisconsin, when John was only a boy. They had laughed and made bets, and for a little while, Ted had felt whole again.

Not John’s fault. It was the demon.

It was Delilah.

*   *   *

HE WAS GONE.

Father Barnabas stood on the top step and gazed out in frustration at the empty street.

He should have been quicker. He should have sensed how close Ted Danner was to breaking and running. He had been concentrating on how to tear through the wall around Danner and reaching him and had not realized how tightly the man was balanced.

And he knew how dangerous Danner could be when he was upset like this. Before he had been able to control him and he had thought that when Danner had come to him pleading for help with the child, he could lure him back to him. What had set him off this time?

Well, he wasn’t about to find out anytime soon unless he was able to give him what he wanted. He had become the enemy to Danner. He had felt the vibrations, the guilt, the searing rage that was fueling the man. He had been bracing himself for possible attack.

Danner was changing, becoming dangerous. Could he control him? Control was of the utmost importance with Danner.

He could do it. He had done it before through the years. All it took was perseverance and subtle manipulation. Danner regarded him as the only light to overcome the darkness that was trying to take over his soul.

As long as he kept thinking that was true, the control would be rock solid.

*   *   *

“THIS IS A FAR CRY
from a VA hospital,” Eve said as Gallo pulled into the parking lot of the San Antonio Medical Center. It was a small brick-and-glass building that appeared sleek, modern, and affluent. The lot was occupied by a BMW, a gray Lexus, and a small red sports car. The neighborhood in which the medical center was located had the same air of prosperity as those luxury vehicles. “It seems Dr. Temple has moved up in the world.”

“Or down,” Gallo said grimly. “It depends on who you ask. I’ve met a couple of doctors who take care of servicemen and there are none better.”

“Everyone has a right to improve their lot in life,” she said as she got out of the car. “It’s the capitalist system.”

“You defend it, but how much do you charge for your forensic reconstructions?”

“Enough to make a living.” She waited for him at the plate-glass door. “I’m no martyr, John. I can’t be—”

“Excuse me.” A tall, tanned man in his early fifties had come out of the door. He was dressed in white shorts and T-shirt and gave Eve a dazzling smile. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” He jumped into the red sports car and the next minute had roared out of the parking lot.

“Dr. Temple. I couldn’t reach—” A blond woman in a nurse’s uniform had run out of the building and was staring in exasperation at the sports car disappearing down the block. “Dammit to hell.”

“That was Dr. Temple?” Gallo asked. “We need to see him.” He glanced at the badge on her uniform. “Ms. Dawbler.”

“Stand in line,” the nurse said sourly. “He’s booked solid for the rest of the day.” Then she forced a smile. “He had an emergency, and I’ve had to cancel everything for the afternoon. I couldn’t reach his noon appointment, and I was trying to tell him before he left. If you’ll come inside, I’ll try to set you up for tomorrow.”

“Emergency?” Eve repeated. “He didn’t look as if he were rushing off to the hospital.”

“I can’t help how it looked,” she said shortly. “Dr. Temple told me it was an emergency. Would you like to make an appointment or not?”

“He had a golf bag in that sports car,” Gallo said. “Does he play at a local country club?”

She started to nod, then repeated, “It was an emergency. Excuse me, I have to go back inside and phone him.” She turned and went back into the medical center.

“What a charming man,” Eve murmured ironically. “It’s a beautiful day, and he ditches all his patients and takes off.” She headed back to the car. “But I have no intention of waiting around to see him tomorrow. I’ll check out all the country clubs in this general area on the computer, then start calling. I’d bet it’s not too far from the medical center. He impressed me as a man who wouldn’t want business to interfere with pleasure.”

Twenty minutes later, she turned to Gallo and handed him the number she’d scrawled on a notepad. “Diaz Country Club. It’s near the river. About a fifteen-minute drive.”