Sacred Sins (43 page)

“Lou said Ben got a little banged up, doesn't sound serious.”

“I'll feel better when I see for myself.” “I know what you mean. Do you want me to take you to the hospital?”

“No, I'm sure you want to get back to the station and tie up the loose ends. It doesn't look as though I need police protection any longer.”

“No, but I'll walk you down to your car anyway. Tell Ben I said good work.”

A
S
Ben crossed the parking lot to the station house, Logan pulled in behind him and hurried out of his car.

“Ben.” Hatless, gloveless, dressed as he rarely was in a cassock, he caught up with them on the steps. “I was hoping I'd find you here.”

“Not a good night for priests to go walking around, Tim. We got a lot of nervous cops out tonight. You could find yourself cuffed.”

“I was saying late Mass for the sisters and didn't have time to change. I think I have something.”

“Inside,” Ed said, pushing open the door. “Your fingers are going to fall off.”

“I was in such a hurry.” Absently, Logan began to rub his fingers together for warmth. “For days I've been going over everything. I knew you were fixed on the use of the name Reverend Francis Moore and were checking it out, but I couldn't get my mind off the Frank Moore I'd known at the seminary.”

“We're still digging there.” Impatient, Ben looked at his watch.

“I know, but I was with him, you see, I knew that he bordered between being a saint and a fanatic. Then I remembered a seminarian who'd been under him and had left after a celebrated row with Moore. I remembered him because the young man had gone on to become a well-known writer. Stephen Mathias.”

“I've heard of him.” As excitement began to drum, Ben edged closer. “You think Mathias—”

“No, no.” Frustrated by his inability to speak quickly or coherently enough, Logan took a deep breath. “I didn't even know Mathias personally, since I was already established in the university when all that went on. But I remembered the gossip that there was nothing, and no one, Mathias didn't know about in the seminary. In fact, he used plenty of inside stuff for his first couple of books. The more I thought about that, the more things clicked. And I remembered reading one novel in particular that mentioned a young student who had suffered a
breakdown and had left the seminary after his sister—his twin sister—had died as the result of an illegal abortion. Apparently there was a tremendous scandal. It was discovered that the boy's mother was confined to an institution and that he had been treated himself for schizophrenia.”

“Let's track down Mathias.” Ben was already heading down the hall when Logan stopped him.

“I've already done that. It only took me a few calls to locate him. He's living in Connecticut, and he remembered the incident perfectly. The seminarian had been unusually devout, as devout to Moore as he was to the Church. In fact, he served as his secretary. Mathias said his name was Louis Roderick.”

It was possible for the blood to freeze, for the heart to stop pumping, and for the body to remain alive. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, Mathias was positive, but when I asked, he went back through his old notes and checked on it. He's willing to come down and give you a description. With that and a name, you should be able to find him.”

“I know where he is.” Ben spun around into the squad room and grabbed the first phone he reached.

“You know him?” Logan grabbed on to Ed before he lost him as well.

“He's a cop. He's one of us, and right now he's heading up the outside surveillance on Tess's building.”

“Sweet God.” As the room in front of him humped into action, Logan began to pray.

Units were dispatched to Roderick's address, others to back up Tess's apartment. Logan was on Ben's heels as they headed to the door. “I want to go with you.”

“This is police business.”

“Seeing a priest might calm him.”

“Don't get in the way.” They hit the glass door and nearly ran over Lowenstein.

“What the hell's going on here?”

Half wild with fear, Ben caught her by the collar of her coat. “Why aren't you with her? Why did you leave her alone?”

“What's wrong with you? Once Lou called to verify it had gone down, there was no reason for me to hang around.”

“When did he call?”

“Twenty minutes ago. But he said you were on your way—” Though her mind rejected it, the expression on Ben's face told her everything. “Oh, God, not Lou? But he's—” A cop. A friend. Lowenstein kicked herself back. “He called twenty minutes ago, telling me there had been a clean arrest and to pull off the guard and come in. I never questioned it. God, Ben, I never thought to verify with headquarters. It was Lou.”

“We've got to find him.”

She grabbed Ben's arm before he could push past her. “Georgetown Hospital. He told her you'd been taken to Emergency.”

Nothing else was needed to have him streaking down the steps to his car.

T
ESS
pulled up in the parking lot after a frustrating twenty-minute drive. The roads were all but clear, but that hadn't stopped the fender benders. She told herself the good part was that Ben was already fixed up and waiting. And it was over.

Slamming her door, she dropped her keys into her pocket. On the way home they were going to pick up a bottle of champagne. Two bottles, she corrected. Then they were going to spend the rest of the weekend in bed drinking them.

The idea was so pleasant, she didn't notice the figure melt out of the shadows and into the light.

“Dr. Court.”

Alarm came first, with her hand flying up to her throat. Then, with a laugh, she lowered it and started forward. “Detective Roderick, I didn't know you'd—”

The light glinted on the white clerical collar at his throat. It was like the dream, she thought in a moment of blank panic, when she'd thought herself only a step away from safety only to find her worst fears confirmed. She knew she could turn and run, but he was only an arm's span away and would catch her. She knew she could scream, but she had no doubt he'd silence her. Completely. There was only one choice. To face him.

“You wanted to talk to me.” No, it wouldn't work, she thought desperately. Not if her voice was shaking, not when her head was filled with the rushing echo of her own fear. “I've wanted to talk to you too. I've wanted to help you.”

“Once I thought you could. You had kind eyes. When I read your reports, I knew you understood I wasn't a murderer. Then I knew you'd been sent to me. You'd be the last one, the most important one. You were the only one the Voice said by name.”

“Tell me about the voice, Lou.” She wanted to back up, just edge back one foot, but saw by his eyes that even that small movement would trigger the violence. “When did you first hear it?”

“When I was a boy. They said I was crazy, like my mother. I was afraid, so I blocked it out. Later I realized it was a call from God, calling me to the priesthood. I was happy to be chosen. Father Moore said only a few are chosen to carry out the Lord's work, to celebrate the sacraments. But even the chosen are tempted to sin. Even the chosen are weak, so we sacrifice, we do penance. He taught me how to train my body to fight off temptation. Flagellation, fasting.”

And one more piece to the puzzle fell into place. An emotionally disturbed boy enters the seminary, to be trained by an emotionally disturbed man. He would kill her. Following the path he saw laid out for him, he would kill her. The parking lot was all but empty, the doors of the Emergency Room two hundred yards away. “How did you feel about becoming a priest, Lou?”

“It was everything. My whole life was formed, do you understand? Formed. For that purpose.”

“But you left it.”

“No.” He lifted his head as if scenting the air, as if listening to something only for his ears. “That was like a blank spot in my life. I didn't really exist then. A man can't exist without faith. A priest can't exist without purpose.”

She saw him reach in his pocket, saw the snatch of white in his hand. Her eyes were almost as wild as his when they met again. “Tell me about Laura.”

He'd come a step closer, but the name stopped him. “Laura. Did you know Laura?”

“No, I didn't know her.” He had the amice in both hands now, but seemed to have forgotten it. Treat, she told herself to hold back a scream. Treat, talk, listen. “Tell me about her.”

“She was beautiful. Beautiful in that fragile way that makes you worry if such things can last. My mother worried because Laura enjoyed looking at herself in the mirror, brushing her hair, wearing pretty clothes. Mother could sense the Devil drawing, always drawing Laura into sin and bad thoughts. But Laura only laughed and said she didn't care for sackcloth and ashes. Laura laughed a lot.”

“You loved her very much.”

“We were twins. We shared life before life. That's what my mother said. We were bound together by God.
It was for me to keep Laura from spurning the Church and everything we'd been taught. It was for me, but I failed her.”

“How did you fail Laura?”

“She was only eighteen. Beautiful, delicate, but there wasn't any laughter.” The tears began, sobless, to glisten on his cheeks. “She'd been weak. I hadn't been there for her, and she'd been weak. Back-street abortion. God's judgment. But why did God's judgment have to be so harsh?” His breathing quickened and became painfully loud as he pressed a hand to his forehead. “A life for a life. It's fair and just. A life for a life. She begged me not to let her die, not to let her die in such sin that would send her to Hell. I had no power to absolve her. Even as she lay dying in my arms, I had no power. The power came later, after the despair, the dark, blank time. I can show you. I have to show you.”

He stepped forward, and even as Tess's instincts had her pull back, he slipped the scarf around her. “Lou, you're a police officer. It's your job, your function to protect.”

“Protect.” His fingers trembled on the scarf. A policeman. He'd had to drug Pudge's coffee. It would have been wrong to do more, to hurt another officer. Protect. The shepherd protects his flock. “I didn't protect Laura.”

“No, it was a terrible loss, a tragedy. But now you've tried to give something back, haven't you? Isn't that why you became a police officer? To give something back? To protect others?”

“I had to lie, but after Laura it didn't seem to matter. Maybe with the police I could find what I'd been looking for in the seminary. That sense of purpose. Vocation. Man's law, not God's law.”

“Yes, you swore to uphold the law.”

“The Voice came back, so many years later. It was real.”

“Yes, to you it was real.”

“It isn't always inside my head. Sometimes it's a whisper in the other room, or it comes like thunder from the ceiling over my bed. It told me how to save Laura, and myself. We're bound together. We've always been bound together.”

Her hands clenched over the keys in her pocket. She knew if the scarf tightened, she would use them to gouge his eyes. For survival. The need to live surged through her.

“I will absolve you from sin,” he murmured. “And you will see God.”

“Taking a life is a sin.”

He hesitated. “A life for a life. A holy sacrifice.” The pain rushed through his voice.

“Taking a life is a sin,” she repeated as the blood pounded in her ears. “To kill breaks God's law, and man's. You understand both laws as a police officer, as a priest.” When she heard the siren, her first thought was that it was an ambulance coming into Emergency. She wouldn't be alone. She didn't take her eyes from his. “I can help you.”

“Help me.” It was only a whisper, part question, part plea.

“Yes.” Though it trembled, she lifted her hand and placed it on his. Her fingers brushed over the silk.

Doors slammed behind them, but neither of them moved.

“Get your hands off her, Roderick. Take your hands off her and move aside.”

Keeping her fingers around Roderick's, Tess turned to see Ben no more than ten feet behind them, spread-legged, his gun held in both hands. Beside him and to the left, Ed mirrored his position. Sirens still screamed and lights flashed as cars poured into the lot.