Confession (26 page)

“Police! Freeze!”

The words carried plainly in the wind, but Luke didn't stop, couldn't stop. He waved his hands high over his head, fingers stretched wide and called as loudly as he could. “Don't shoot! I'm unarmed. Civilians in the house!”

“Police! Freeze!” The command repeated close behind him. The officer was giving chase, but whether because of instinct or information from Johnson, he wasn't firing on Luke.

He kept running.

About a yard from the house, he saw the porch light flicker on, then off, then on again. He pulled up short and from his peripheral vision, he saw two patrol officers do the same. Faith appeared in the doorway, hands high in the air, just as his had been. Relief so intense it hurt washed over him. He grabbed his knees and kept breathing.

Faith was alive.

Then his heart and his breath stopped at the same moment. The barrel of a shotgun was stuck in her back. As Faith took another step forward, Scourge appeared behind her.

Both officers had pistols trained on Scourge and Faith. “Police! Drop your weapon!”

With his shotgun, Scourge pushed Faith down the steps. “Dr. Clancy and I are going for a ride. I'm afraid I'm going to need to borrow someone's car. My truck's a ways down the road and not too fast.”

“Drop it now, asshole,” the police officer barked back.

A painful spasm shot through Luke's legs, but he stayed crouched and at the ready. Sucking in deep lungfuls of air, he fueled his body with oxygen.

With flat eyes, Scourge stared past the officer.

Something was wrong. The expression on Scourge's face was so . . . indifferent.

Luke's hands squeezed at his sides. He had to get Faith out of the line of fire, and soon. A laugh from Scourge . . . and Luke knew.

Suicide by cop!

One. . .

Scourge's shotgun swung toward the officer.

Luke had meant to go on three, but that was shot to hell now.

Two!

He charged in from the side, knocking Faith to the ground just as the
pop, pop, pop
of gunfire rang out. A minute later, his ears were ringing, and he felt Faith's back heave beneath his chest.

“Luke, Luke are you okay?” she cried out, and he rolled off her, looking up to find an officer staring down at him.

“Helluva nerve, buddy. What'd ya say your name was again?”

“Luke Jericho!” Faith grabbed his neck and clung on tight, just about choking the life out of him—­and all he could think was he hoped to hell she never let him go again.

 

THIRTY

Sunday, August 18, 3:00
P.M.

S
courge Teodori, the Santa Fe Saint, was dead. But Faith's pulse still rushed at every unexpected noise, her gaze still darted around every room she entered. Just now, she'd checked the corners of her kitchen and the space beneath the breakfast table. The sensation of danger lurking in the shadows hung in the air like the damp musk of an approaching storm, raising chill bumps on her arms and keeping her nerves on high alert.

Scourge is dead.

Faith shaded her eyes against the glare coming in through her kitchen window and reminded herself that the Donovan family was safe, and so was she. It was time to resume a normal life—­one that included wonderful Luke and did not include sitting across the desk from a serial killer. And, with all the publicity surrounding the rescue of the Donovan family, Faith expected she'd finally be able to scare up some patients and pay back her loan to the bank.

As it turned out, Scourge had no family or friends. At least none the authorities could track down. Closing her eyes, she dropped her chin to her chest. She'd heard from Detective Johnson that a Sister Cecily from St. Catherine's school had offered to provide a mass and burial in the event no family came forward. Johnson was checking into the legalities of turning Scourge's body over to someone other than a relative but said he thought that in the end, the state would welcome the chance to spare the taxpayers any further expense on the Saint's account.

Ironic.

Isn't that what Scourge would say? Faith felt quite certain he would hate the idea of a mass and nuns praying for his soul. Her head jerked up, and her eyes flew open. She hadn't the slightest interest in intervening on his behalf. Scourge would have a proper Catholic burial, and she would think of him no more. Wiping clammy hands on the sides of her jeans, she took a deep breath.
Eventually,
she would think of him no more. For now, she would have to settle for getting on with her life as if she'd already forgotten.

All day yesterday and today, she'd been busying herself doing exactly that—­by cooking. Humming off-­key, she applied the last label:
G
R
E
E
N
B
E
A
N
C
A
S
S
E
R
O
L
E
,
A
U
G
U
S
T
1
8
, to the final Tupperware container and packed it in with the others. No thanks to Torpedo, who'd failed to keep a protective detail in place for Tommy while Luke and Faith traveled to Amarillo, Tommy had come through his encounter with Scourge with only a broken leg and an assortment of scrapes and bruises. Faith's security system had been installed this morning, and she'd happily paid extra for Sunday hours.

Faith's care package for the Bledsoes was overflowing with zucchini bread, beef Wellington, and homemade cinnamon rolls. Anything and everything that might make life a little easier on Angie Bledsoe while Tommy recovered from his surgery. Her heart squeezed as she lifted the box and headed for Tommy's house, Chica at her side.

“Wait here, girl,” she whispered to Chica, then climbed the front steps. Before she could knock, Angie threw open the door and ushered her inside.

“More? But where am I going to put all this food?”

Faith shrugged. “If you can't fit it in your freezer, I can bring it over in smaller batches. I just thought this way you'd have more variety at your fingertips.”

Angie sorted through the box. “Oh, good. You brought more mac and cheese. That's my—­Tommy's—­favorite. What's that yummy sauce you put on it?”

“Gruyère. I'll show you how to make it sometime if you like.”

Angie stopped unloading the box. “I'd like that, Faith. Maybe you could join us for one of these awesome dinners sometime.”

She'd like that, too, very much. “Sure,” she said, and pulled her lower lip between her teeth, careful how she broached the next topic. “Chica's home from the hospital, too. I'm very grateful you took the time to make sure she got to the vet once Tommy was safe.”

“It was Ann from three doors down who took her, all I did was ask. That dog saved Tommy's life—­if it hadn't been for Chica, I wouldn't have my little boy.”

Her heart lifted, and at the same time, a sense of loss weighted down her shoulders. Angie Bledsoe appeared to be very receptive to what Faith was about to propose, which meant her furry friend would be residing with Tommy for a while. “Speaking of Chica, I know Tommy can't come to her, so I wondered if it would be all right for Chica to drop by here, for a quick visit . . . or maybe even until Tommy's recuperated. I thought she might cheer him up. I don't want him to be lonely.”

“Absolutely not.”

Faith couldn't hide her surprise. Chica was no longer full of ticks and fleas, and as Angie had just pointed out, the dog had saved Tommy's life. “Oh, okay, well whenever Tommy's able to come by—­”

Angie threw her arm over her chest. “Oh, no. I'm afraid you misunderstood. When I said I didn't want Chica to come by for a quick visit or a little longer, I meant I was hoping you'd let her stay here . . . permanently. Tommy loves that dog.” Angie hesitated and looked at Faith beneath her lashes. “I know you love her, too, but it would mean the world to Tommy.”

Faith waved her hand. “Of course. I'll be right next door if you need me, and I've always said Chica is Tommy's dog. I was just minding her until you two were ready. And now you're ready, so that's that. I'll bring you a list of her medications, and just between you and me, you may want to prepare Tommy for some news.”

“This is about the puppies, isn't it? I've been wondering if they survived her injuries.”

Faith filled her voice with optimism. “The puppies survived, but Chica had a through-­and-­through fracture of her right front leg. She needed pins, and they had to gas her down with Isoflurane to do the surgery. So the pups may or may not make it. The vet's hopeful, but she says we should be prepared for the worst.”

“They couldn't take them early?”

“I asked, but that wasn't a good option. Dr. Culpepper said they had a better chance if we left them alone.” Faith aimed her thumb over her shoulder. “I've got Chica waiting outside. Is it okay if I bring her in to Tommy now?”

Faith matched Chica's hobbling pace through the back door, which was the door closest to Tommy's room. Chica managed remarkably well with her front leg casted, and she looked rather adorable with a leopard-­skin vet wrap covering her cast and not quite matching her natural Catahoula Leopard fur. The sound of children's voices carried down the hall, making Chica's ears prick.

Faith scratched her underneath her chin. “Tommy's got a visitor. That's good.” She hated to think of Tommy convalescing in isolation. Even children with lots of friends had a hard time being confined to their rooms, and Tommy . . .

“Chica.” She knelt and put her face in the dog's fur, felt it grow damp. “I'm
not
going to cry.” She lifted her head and swiped her eyes. “You'll be right next door, with Tommy. Right where you belong. After all, you found him first. You've always been his dog.” Sniffling, she got to her feet. “I'll bring your white chocolate bones over later. Don't worry about a thing.”

When Tommy's voice floated out to them again, Chica's tail wagged furiously, and Faith smiled in spite of the hole in her heart. “Let's go see Tommy.”

The door to Tommy's room was half-­open, and his voice was louder now. “And that's when I bit him.”

“But weren't you scared?” a young girl asked.

“Nah. I had my dog with me.”

Faith had never heard that bravado in Tommy's tone before.

The little girl continued, “My mom says the Saint had a shotgun. My mom says if you hadn't stopped him, he might've murdered the whole entire neighborhood.”

“Yeah, Tommy. You're a hero,” said a third voice, this one belonging to another boy.

“Like I said, I had my dog with me. But yeah, I suppose I was brave.”

“Tell us again about the—­”

“Tommy, you have another visitor.” Mrs. Bledsoe swung the door wide. There reigned Tommy, propped up on pillows, his casted leg occupying a large portion of his narrow racecar bed. Around him, most every child in the neighborhood huddled in folding chairs.

Mrs. Bledsoe caught Faith's eye. “He's had so many visitors, I had to borrow chairs from my bridge club.”

A hush fell over the room. And then one of the boys asked, “Is that Chica? Is that the hero dog?”

“Doy. Do you see the cast on her leg? She got a broken leg saving my life. Saving
your
lives.” Tommy glanced meaningfully around his circle of friends. “Take it easy.” Tommy instructed, as the children jumped to their feet. “Don't crowd her, but you can line up and pet her one at a time if you like.”

The children fell into line, waiting their turn to pet Chica, the hero dog. A newfound confidence shining from his eyes, Tommy threw a glance at Faith, then his mother, “How long can Chica stay, Mom?”

“Oh, I don't know Tommy.” Angie Bledsoe dabbed her eye with the corner of her apron. “How 'bout forever?”

Tommy let out a whoop. Faith gave him a hug, and clearly being too old for this crowd, left with a promise to return tomorrow. As she made her way back across the lawn toward her house, her cell phone beeped. She looked at the message, blew out a long breath, then typed her response to her brother-­in-­law.

Can't wait to see you, too.

 

THIRTY-­ONE

Sunday, August 18, 4:00
P.M.

F
aith smoothed her shaky hands over her hair and opened her screen door to admit her brother-­in-­law, Danny Benson. “I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow.” Regretting the aloofness in her voice, she took a step forward.

Danny ducked his head and strode through the front door. Even when she was in heels, the man dwarfed her. He stretched out an arm and pulled her in for an easy side hug. Her body stiffened, a defense against crumpling against his chest and telling him how desperately she'd missed Katie and him.

His hands still on her shoulders, he backed up to arm's length, surveying her. The worry in his brown eyes made her want to crawl into a far corner of the room. She'd hurt him, and worse, she'd hurt Katie. They didn't understand why she'd been keeping her distance, and Danny certainly didn't understand why she hadn't told him about what had been going on with the Saint until now.

“We've been out of our minds, all of us, until we could get here. Why the hell didn't you tell me what was going on?” He pulled her back, this time for a bear hug.

“I'm perfectly fine. At least I will be once I can breathe,” she sputtered.

Danny loosened his grip, then tightened it for one more hug before releasing her. He raised a brow, “You look surprisingly good, kid, considering you just tangled with a serial killer.”

“And won.” She raised her chin and self-­consciously touched her cheek near a bruise she'd worked hard to camouflage.

Danny gave her the eyebrow lift again. “You're not fooling me with that pancake makeup over those bruises. I see them all right, but that's not what I meant. I meant you look happy.”

“What're you? Ninety? I'm not a kid, and I'm not wearing
pancake
makeup. I'm wearing Chanel concealer. But thanks for noticing—­I am happy.” Even now. Even banged up and bruised and standing toe-­to-­toe with the man she'd been avoiding for the past two years. And thank heavens for that bear hug. It had taken her nerves away. “Can I get you some tea?”

Danny dragged a hand through his hair. “Nah. Let's wait for the girls.”

Her heart did three flips in her chest.
The girls.
He meant Sky and Katie. Faith was about to see her niece, Katie, for the first time in forever. The worst part about avoiding her brother-­in-­law was that meant avoiding Katie, too. And she simply could no longer bear to keep that up. “There's something about almost dying that really makes you want to live,” she murmured to herself.

“I hear you.” Danny looked at her with a comprehension that went beyond those simple words. He'd come close to death more than once himself, and he must know how that sort of thing makes you want to put your life in order, screw up your courage, and be honest about your feelings.

“I've missed you.” She reached out to him.

He took her hand. “I missed you, too, kid. And I think I deserve some answers.”

She didn't pretend not to understand him, just waited for him to finish.

“Sky and Katie will be here any minute, so maybe now would be a good time to fill me in on why you suddenly put Katie and me on the blacklist.” He held up his hand to stop her protest. “Don't say you haven't blackballed us. You barely take our calls, and we haven't seen that pretty mug of yours for over two years. Sky says I need to give you your space, and I sure as hell tried, but I gotta say, I'm done with that. This has gone way too far, and if Grace were alive  . . .”

“You don't have to bring Grace into this. I admit it.” Her hand went to her stomach.
Suck it up, Faith.
“I've been avoiding you. Not because I don't love you guys, but because I do—­so much. But you've got Sky now, and you don't need your former sister-­in-­law interfering. I only wanted to give you and Sky and Katie a chance to be a real family.”

“Interfering?
Former
sister-­in-­law? What the hell are you talking about, Faith?”

She didn't look away. She was tired of keeping secrets, and even more tired of missing the ­people she cared for most. “I didn't want to horn in on your new family or your happiness—­the way I did with you and Grace.”

His grip tightened around her hand, and she tried to pull it free, but she was no match for Danny. “Never say that again, Faith. You never horned in on our happiness—­Grace's and mine. That's a flat-­out lie, and it kills me to hear you say such a thing.” He paused, his eyes misting over, his voice lowering an octave. “You have no idea how much your sister loved you. You were Grace's whole world, at least until I came along. I'm the one who horned in on your territory, not the other way around. But I don't regret it. I'm selfish that way, and I wouldn't take back a minute of the life I shared with your sister.”

She shook her head. “I wasn't a good sister, Danny. I didn't deserve Grace, and that's the truth. I'm sorry if it hurts you to hear me say these things, but it's time you understand.”

“I already understand. Grace loved you with all her heart, and you loved her, too.”

“That doesn't make me a good sister.”

“In my book, it sure as hell does. Nobody's saying you were
perfect.
None of us are, Faith. There's no such thing as the perfect wife, the perfect daughter, the perfect sister. We love each other in spite of our flaws, and that's all the perfection we need.”

He didn't get it. He just didn't. “Listen to me, Danny. When Grace married you, I resented it. At first, it was like you said, I thought you'd horned in on my private world with my big sister. But when Grace got sick and started to pull away from us both, it was you who was there for me. Then things changed. I started to wish
I
was your wife.” She held her breath and waited, and waited some more, but nothing happened. Danny's expression didn't alter, he didn't look away from her or drop her hand. The earth didn't rise up and swallow her whole. Eventually, she had to inhale.

Danny brought his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up. “I know that, too, kiddo.”

She stumbled back, collapsing onto the couch. Danny sat beside her and put his hand on her shoulder. “That's right, I knew. It doesn't take a degree in psychiatry from Yale University to figure that one out. You were a lonely teenager. Your parents were gone, taken from you without warning. You looked up to Grace, wanted to be just like her.” He winked. “And let's not discount the fact that I'm one helluva good-­looking guy. Women swoon on the street when I walk by.” He tweaked her chin, “C'mon, Faith. Please stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” She held her back stiffly and tried to keep the swirl of emotions off her face, at least until she could sort through them.

“Like you're embarrassed. This is
me
, Faith. I've known you since you were a kid, and I love you just like Grace did, and that's a fact.”

“Even though I made a fool of myself over you? Even though I let Grace down when she needed me most of all, you still love me?”

“I do. Show me a person who never made a fool of themselves, and I'll show you a robot. You and me, Faith. We're not robots. You want me to say we didn't let Grace down, and I wish I could, but I can't. Neither of us recognized how deep her depression ran. Neither of us knew what to do to help her. Just remember, I was the adult. I was the one who missed the warning signs. But I know you and I both feel that weight on our shoulders every day.”

She let the tears stream down her face, didn't try to blink them away.

“We feel that weight because we love Grace, and we always will. Our love for her isn't perfect, but it's real. Faith, you have to go on living even though you've lost such a beautiful part of your life. I think it was easier for me to move on because I had Katie, and I had no choice.”

“I should never have stayed away from Katie this long. I just didn't want to interfere with her bonding with her new mom, and I didn't want Sky to resent me.”

“No chance of that. Sky thinks you're the cat's meow.”

Faith sniffled, and then smiled. “I think she's the cat's meow, too.”

“So let's not do this again, okay? Grace would've wanted me to look out for you. Katie misses you like crazy. And I
miss
you. Our family's not complete without you. It's like trying to have Thanksgiving without the turkey.”

“Umm. Did you just call me a turkey?”

He gave her a soft knuckle to the top of her head. “Yes, I did. Because you're acting like one.”

“Gobble. Gobble.” She flapped her elbows, then they were both laughing. It was the kind of laugh that bubbles out when you feel free to be just exactly who you are instead of who you think you ought to be. “Funny. All this time I've been carrying around my deep dark secret, and it wasn't a secret at all. You knew the whole time.”

He shrugged. “And speaking of funny, that secret of yours wasn't nearly as deep and dark as you thought. It's human nature to want to be loved, Faith. Grace and I both knew that as you matured, your feelings would change, that someday you'd grow up and fall in love—­real love, with another man, and then I'd have to run his prints through IAFIS, and let him know he better treat you right, or he'd have to answer to me.”

That made her smile. “Hey, you never said why you flew in early. I really wanted to pick you up at the airport.”

“Sorry, but right after I booked our flight, I got a call from some guy named Luke.” Danny's grin was high-­wattage. “Man, is that guy pushy. He wanted to send a private jet for us, which I thought was completely unnecessary and a waste of money, but he was insistent. Then Katie got wind of it . . . and as you know, I'm not good at saying no to my daughter. So Luke got his way. We flew out on his private jet, and now Katie thinks that's the only way to travel.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“It was supposed to be a surprise. And when Luke suggested I meet with you alone, I knew it was a good idea.” He lowered his brow. “I don't ever want to hear another word about your being an outsider or horning in or any other
bullshit
like that.”

“I promise.” She crossed her heart, then took a deep breath. This might be the only chance she had to talk to Danny alone, and now that they'd cleared the air, there was something else on her mind.

He cocked his head, studying her, as if he knew by the look on her face she had something important to say.

She prowled the room, debating whether or not to bring it up. It would be so much easier to let everything go, to ignore the niggling voice in her head that was telling her something still wasn't quite right. If anyone would understand, though, it would be an experienced cop like Danny. She stopped pacing and came to stand in front of him. “You ever get hunches. About a case I mean?”

“All the time.”

“And . . . do those hunches usually turn out to be true, or do they just lead down a wrong path and waste your time.”

His brows rose with interest. “Depends. The thing about hunches is there's usually something behind them. A forgotten fact that's nagging at us, but buried so deep we don't recognize it, a detail so small we've forgotten it. So we say,
I got a hunch.
Listen to me, I sound like a shrink.”

Picturing Danny as a
shrink
made her smile. He never let anyone get away with bullshit. He didn't have the temperament to do her job.

“You got a hunch about the Saint?”

She made her voice casual, like it was all a big nothing. “I do. I tried to talk to Detective Johnson about it, but he practically threw me out. He said the case is closed, and it's time to let it go. Get back to my normal life. He didn't want to listen.”

“I'm listening, Faith. What was it that Johnson didn't want to hear?”

“I told him Scourge had a dream about murdering a nun, back when he was a teen. I told him I thought it wasn't a dream at all. That it really happened. The murder would've been about ten years ago.” She started wandering around, picking up cushions and putting them down again.

“He ought to look into that.”

“He says he will, but a ten-­year-­old murder committed by someone who's already dead isn't a priority. Then I told him something wasn't adding up for me. Scourge is such a follower. So susceptible to suggestion—­he sees flooding on
Dr. Phil,
and next thing you know he's off flooding himself—­but he didn't come up with the idea on his own. And the plan for killing the Donovans came from a book. He copied the idea from
In Cold Blood.
”

Danny tipped his head. “Let me guess. That's when Johnson tossed you out.”

“No. He was very patient right up until I said that something feels unfinished—­like it's not over yet. Then his face turned purple, and he showed me the door.”

“What does Luke think?” Danny asked evenly.

“Luke thinks I'm having some sort of posttraumatic stress reaction. He thinks I'm experiencing natural anxiety, and I'm looking for an explanation as to why I still feel fearful even though Scourge is dead.”

A low laugh, then Danny said, “Now
everyone's
a shrink. But, that sounds right to me.” He scratched his chin. “Still, I wouldn't dismiss the feeling altogether. If your hunch is based on some detail you've forgotten, you'll remember it eventually. That detail is like a word on the tip of your tongue. Relax. Stop trying so hard, and eventually, it will come to you. Once it does, go back to Johnson and make him listen.”

There was a knock on the door.

Faith answered, and Katie barreled in, nearly knocking her to the ground with her hug. “Aunt Faith. Aunt Faith. I love you!”