Sacred Sins (41 page)

“That's wrong. Worse, it's cruel.”

“I threw him out. My mother stood there, tight-lipped, dry-eyed, then she went up to the room where her son's brains were splattered on the wall and she prayed for his absolution herself.”

“Your mother's strong. She must have tremendous faith.”

“All she'd ever done was cook.” He drew Tess closer, needing the soft, feminine scent. “I don't know if I could have walked up those stairs a second time, but she did. When I watched her do that, I realized that no matter how much she hurt, no matter how much she'd grieve, she believed and would always believe that what happened to Josh was God's will.”

“But you didn't.”

“No. It had to be someone's fault. Josh had never hurt anyone in his life, not until 'Nam. Then what he'd done there was supposed to be right because he was
fighting for his country. But it wasn't right, and he couldn't live with it anymore. The psychiatrist was supposed to show him that no matter what he'd done over there, he was still decent, still worthwhile.”

As she had been supposed to show Joey Higgins he was worthwhile. “Did you ever talk to Josh's doctor afterward?”

“Once. I think I still had it in my head I should kill him. He sat there behind his desk, with his hands folded.” Ben looked down at his own, watching them curl into fists. “He didn't feel anything. He said he was sorry, explained how extreme Delayed Stress Syndrome could be. Then he told me, while he kept his hands folded on the desk and his voice just two shades away from being involved, that Josh hadn't been able to cope with what had happened in 'Nam, that coming home and trying to live up to what he'd been before had created more and more pressure, until finally the lid had blown off.”

“I'm sorry, Ben. Probably a great deal of what he told you was true, but he could have done it in a different way.”

“It could have meant a damn to him.”

“Ben, I'm not defending him, but a lot of doctors, medical or psychiatric, hold themselves back, don't let themselves in too close, because when you lose someone, when you aren't able to save them, it hurts too much.”

“The way losing Joey hurt you.”

“That kind of grief and guilt rips at you, and if it rips at you too often, there's nothing left, not for you or for the next patient.”

Maybe he understood that, or was beginning to. But he couldn't see Josh's regular Army shrink closing himself in the bathroom and sobbing. “Why do you do it?”

“I guess I have to look for answers, the same way you do.” Turning, she touched his face. “It does hurt
when it's too little, or too late.” She remembered how he'd looked when he'd told her about three strangers who'd been murdered for a handful of coins. “We're not as different as I once thought.”

He turned his lips into her palm, comforted by it. “Maybe not. When I saw you tonight, I felt the same way I did when I saw you looking at Anne Reasoner in that alley. You seemed so detached from the tragedy of it, so completely in control. Just the way that major had been, with his hands folded on the desk, telling me why my brother was dead.”

“Being in control isn't the same as being detached. You're a cop, you have to know the difference.”

“I wanted to know you felt something.” Sliding his hand down to her wrist, he held it firm while he looked into her eyes. “I guess what I really wanted was for you to need me.” And that was perhaps one of the most difficult confessions of his life. “Then, when I walked into the bathroom and saw you crying, I knew you did, and it scared the hell out of me.”

“I didn't want you to see me like that.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn't trust you enough.”

He dropped his gaze long enough to study his hand over her slender, impossibly delicate wrist. “I've never told anyone but Ed about Josh. Until now, he's the only one I've trusted enough.” He brought her fingers to his lips, brushing them lightly. “So what happens now?”

“What do you want to happen?”

A laugh, even when quiet and reluctant, can be cleansing. “Psychiatrist's cop-out.” Thoughtfully, he fingered the pearls around her neck. He unhooked them. Her throat was fragrant and silky. “Tess, when this is over, if I asked you to take off for a few days, a week, and go somewhere with me, would you?”

“Yes.”

Amused, and more than a little surprised, he looked at her. “Just like that?”

“I might ask where when the time comes, so I'd know whether to pack a fur coat or a bikini.” She took the pearls from him to set them on the bedside table.

“They should be in a safe.” “I'm sleeping with a cop.” Her voice was light, but she saw him brooding and thought she understood where his thoughts had taken him. “Ben, it will be over soon.”

“Yeah.” But when he brought her close, when he began to fill himself with her, he was afraid.

It was November twenty-eighth.

Y
OU DON
'
T STEP
foot out of the apartment until I give you the okay.”

“Absolutely not,” Tess agreed while Ben watched her pin up her hair. “I have enough work at home to keep me chained to my desk all day.”

“You don't even take out the garbage.”

“Not even if the neighbors write up a petition.”

“Tess, I want you to take this seriously.”

“I am taking it seriously.” She chose ribbed gold triangles and clipped them to her ears. “I'm not going to be alone for a minute today. Officer Pilomento will be here at eight.”

Ben looked at the dove-gray slacks and soft, cowl-necked sweater she wore. “Is that who you're getting all dressed up for?”

“Of course.” When he came to stand behind her, she smiled at their twin reflections. “I've developed a penchant for the police lately. It has all the earmarks of becoming an obsession.”

“Is that right?” He bent to brush his lips over the back of her neck.

“I'm afraid so.”

He dropped his hands to her shoulders, wanting to remain close, touching. “Worried about it?”

“No.” Still smiling, she turned into his arms. “I'm not worried a bit. Not about that or anything else.” Because there was a frown between his brows, Tess lifted a finger to smooth it away. “I wish you weren't.”

“It's my job to worry.” For a moment he just held her, knowing it was going to be hard, unreasonably hard, to walk out the door that morning and trust her to someone else's care. “Pilomento's a good man,” he told her, as much to appease himself as her. “He's young but he's by-the-book. Nobody's going to get in the door while he's here.”

“I know. Come on, let's have some coffee. You've only got a few more minutes.”

“Lowenstein relieves him at four.” As they walked into the kitchen, he ran over the schedule, though they both knew every move. “She's the best. She might look like a nice suburban wife, but there's nobody I'd rather have backing me up in a hairy situation.”

“I won't be alone at all.” Tess took down two mugs. “Cops will still be taking shifts on the third floor, the phone's wired, there'll be a unit parked across the street at all times.”

“It won't be a black and white. If he makes his move, we don't want to scare him off. Bigsby, Roderick, and Mullendore will switch off with Ed and me on surveillance.”

“Ben, I'm not worried.” After handing him his coffee, she took his arm to walk to the dining room table. “I've thought this through. Believe me, I've thought this through. Nothing can happen to me as long as I'm inside and inaccessible.”

“He won't know you're being guarded. When I return at midnight, I'll come in the back and use the stairs.”

“He has to make his move tonight, that I'm sure of. When he does, you'll be there.”

“I appreciate the confidence, but I tell you I'd feel a little less edgy if you were a little more so. Look, no grandstanding.” He took her arm for emphasis, before she could lift the coffee. “When we've got him, he goes back to the station for interrogation, you don't.”

“Ben, you know how important it is to me to talk to him, to try to get through.”

“No.”

“You can only block me on this so long.”

“As long as it takes.”

Tess backed off and tried another tack, one that had woken her in the early hours and kept her awake. “Ben, I think you understand this man better than you know. You know what it is to lose someone who's an intricate part of your life. You lost Josh, he lost his Laura. We don't know who she was, but we can be sure that she mattered a great deal to him. You told me that when you lost Josh, you considered killing his doctor. Wait,” she said before he could speak. “You wanted to blame someone, to hurt someone. If you hadn't been a strong man emotionally, you might very well have done so. Still, the resentment and the pain stayed with you.”

The words, and the truth behind them, made him uncomfortable. “Maybe they did, but I didn't start killing people.”

“No, you became a cop. Maybe part of the reason you did was because of Josh, because you needed to find answers, to make things right. You're healthy, self-confident, and were able to turn what might have been the biggest tragedy in your life into something constructive. But if you weren't healthy, Ben, if you didn't have a strong self-image, a strong sense of right and wrong, something might have cracked inside you. When Josh died you lost your faith. I think he lost his over Laura.

We don't know how long ago it might have been—a year, five years, twenty—but he's picked up the pieces of his faith and put them back together. Only the pieces aren't fitting true; the edges are jagged. He kills, sacrifices to save Laura. Laura's soul. What you told me last night made me wonder. Perhaps she died in what the Church considers mortal sin and was refused absolution. He's been taught all of his life to believe that without absolution, the soul is lost. In his psychosis he murders, sacrifices women who remind him of Laura. But he still saves their souls.”

“Everything you say may be right. None of it changes the fact that he's killed four women and is aiming for you.”

“Black and white, Ben?”

“Sometimes that's all there is.” It frustrated him more because he was beginning to understand, even to feel some of what she was saying. He wanted to continue to look at it straight-on, without any angles. “Don't you believe that some people are just born evil? Does a man tell his wife he's going out to hunt humans then drive to the local McDonald's and shoot kids because his mother beat him when he was six? Does a man use a college campus for target practice because his father cheated on his mother?”

“No, but this man isn't the kind of mass murderer you're talking about.” She was on her own ground here and knew her steps. “He isn't killing randomly and motivelessly. An abused child is as likely to become a bank president as a psychotic. And neither do I believe in the bad seed. We're talking about an illness, Ben, something more and more doctors are coming to believe is caused by a chemical reaction in the brain that destroys rational thought. We've come a long way since the days of demon possession, but even sixty years ago schizophrenia was treated by tooth extraction. Then it was
injections of horse serum, enemas. And in the last quarter of the twentieth century, we're still groping. Whatever triggered his psychosis, he needs help. The way Josh did. The way Joey did.”

“Not for the first twenty-four hours,” he said flatly. “And not until the paperwork clears. He might not want to see you.”

“I've thought of that, but I believe he will.”

“None of this matters until we get him.”

When the knock came, Ben's hand reached slowly for his weapon. His arm was still stiff, but usable. He'd have no problem holding his Police Special. He moved toward the door, but stood beside it. “You ask who it is.” As she started to move forward, he held up a hand. “No, ask from over there. You don't stand in front of the door.” Though he doubted the means would change from amice to bullet, he wasn't taking chances.

“Who is it?”

“Detective Pilomento, ma'am.”

Recognizing the voice, Ben turned and pulled the door open.

“Paris.” Pilomento knocked snow from his shoes before he stepped inside. “The roads are still a mess. We got about six inches. Morning, Dr. Court.”

“Good morning. Let me take your coat.”

“Thanks. Freezing out there,” he said to Ben. “Mullendore's in position out front. Hope he wore his long underwear.”

“Don't get too comfortable watching game shows.” Ben reached for his own coat as he took a last look around the room. There was only one entrance, and Pilomento would never be more than about twenty-five feet from her. Still, even as he bundled into his coat, he didn't feel warm. “I'll be in periodic contact with the surveillance teams. Now, why don't you go into the kitchen and pour yourself some coffee?”

“Thanks. I just had one in the car on the way over.”

“Have another.”

“Oh.” He looked from Ben to Tess. “Yeah, sure.” Whistling between his teeth, he walked off.

“That was rude, but I don't mind.” With a low laugh Tess slipped her arms around Ben's waist. “Be careful.”

“I make a habit of it. See that you do.”

He drew her close, and the kiss was long and lingering. “You going to wait up for me, Doc?”