"The church is very protective of her priests. Perhaps you've noticed that with this case." When he answered this time he looked to Pakula.
"Are you saying they've had your address the entire time?"
"They've known how to get in touch with me."
Maggie couldn't determine whether it was a lie or not. After what she had learned about the Catholic Church this week, she almost found herself believing him.
"How about the other one?" Pakula asked.
"I'm sorry, the other one?"
"You said the postal service brought all but one. How did you get the other?"
"One of the village boys __ Arturo delivered it. He said an old man had given it to him." He reached for the teacup again.
"Any chance the kid got into it before he handed it off to you?" Pakula asked.
"No, absolutely not," he said, setting the cup down, and immediately Maggie saw why. There was a slight tremor to his fingers now. "Arturo was one of my best altar boys. He was a good boy. He would never have done something like that."
Maggie's stomach did a sudden flip. Keller had referred to the boy in the past tense. "Was? What do you mean, was?"
Keller's eyes met hers then darted off to the left. In that brief moment she thought she could see him backpedal, shifting gears. Had she caught him or was it the effect of the poison? He looked past her and to Pakula when he answered, "He used to be an altar boy for me. He's not anymore."
Pakula seemed to ignore the entire exchange.
"I highly doubt we're gonna get this guy's fingerprints no matter how much crap you've got in that box," he told Keller.
"I agree with Detective Pakula," Maggie said. "I doubt there's anything you have that will help us."
Keller pulled the box to him, suddenly protective of it, keeping it on the table but now wrapping both arms around it. "I don't think he was careful, because I don't think he believed I'd live long enough to hand this over to the authorities. And if you aren't able to match his prints, there's always the trail of e-mails. I have the list."
"Why do you suppose you're on the list, Father Keller?" Maggie asked.
"I have no idea."
"Really? No idea at all?"
She waited, giving him a second chance. He shifted ever so slightly in his chair and leaned his elbows on the table. There were a few blinks of his eyes but nothing excessive. Maggie had known killers who had convinced themselves that they had done nothing wrong, so effectively, so completely, that it became difficult to detect the lies even with a polygraph test. She believed Keller had done the same. Four years ago she had come to the conclusion that he had been on a mission. He had appointed himself a sort of savior of abused boys. Unlike The Sin Eater who Maggie suspected avenged, and thus rescued boys by executing their abuser, Father Keller simply rescued boys by murdering them, ending their alleged abuse and getting them out of their misery.
Keller must have realized they wouldn't go on until he answered. He finally said, "I have no idea why I'm on the list."
"Now, you see, that's curious to me," Maggie started to explain, keeping a calm, even tone though, she'd admit, a bit sarcastic. Surely sarcasm could be forgiven when what she really wanted to do was reach across the table, grab him by the collar and tell him he knew damn well why he was on the list. She continued, "We already know that the other priests have been accused of hurting little boys in one way or another. In fact, we believe the accusers may have somehow submitted the priests' names to be on the list. What about you, Father Keller? Who might have submitted your name? Who would want you eliminated?"
She tried to stare him down, but he didn't blink when he repeated, "I'm sure my name was submitted by mistake."
"A mistake?" She couldn't believe it. Did he really believe they would buy this crap? She looked to Pakula, hoping to see similar disbelief and frustration. Nothing. He was definitely the better poker player.
"What e-mail name does this guy use?" Pakula took over without missing a beat.
'The Sin Eater."
"Does that mean anything to you?" Pakula wanted to know.
"Not personally. I've done some research. The sin eater was a prominent figure in medieval times. Villagers would leave food items, usually bread* on the chest of their deceased loved one. After everyone was gone the sin eater would come in, eat the bread and ritualistically take the sins of the dead person into his own soul, thereby absolving the dead person of his or her sins."
'"Bread?" Pakula shook his head and glanced over at Maggie. "We found goddamn bread crumbs on Monsignor O'Sullivan, and in Columbia they found some in Kincaid's shirt pocket. This is freaky crap."
"But wait a minute," Maggie said. "This killer is eliminating abusers. Why would he want to absolve the abusers of their sins?"
"I believe," Keller said, taking a quick swipe at his sweaty upper lip, "this person may feel he's absolving the sins of the person he's killing for, instead of the priest he's killed." He said it with almost an admiration for The Sin Eater, the same person who was attempting to kill him. He looked at Maggie and added, "Does that fit your profile, Agent O'Dell?"
She held his gaze without flinching. That actually made sense. The Sin Eater believed he was not only killing for the boys, but taking on their sins of submitting and wanting their abusers dead.
"Yes, actually it does fit my profile," Maggie told him. "I think you're right." Keller blinked hard at her as if he didn't hear correctly. Even Pakula did a double take. "Maybe he is rescuing abused boys from their tormentors by killing their tormentors." She paused. "Unlike you, Father Keller, who thinks he's rescuing abused little boys by killing the boys."
Both men stared at her, silenced for a second time by her bravado. Keller plucked at a piece of packing tape on his box. The room had gone so silent she could hear the scraping, pinching and pulling of his long nervous fingers.
"Is that what you did with Arturo, Father Keller?" she asked. "Did you rescue him before you left Venezuela?"
"Agent O'Dell," Pakula said, his warning calm but she could hear the impatience. "I think it's best we remember why we're here today. We're trying to stop a killer."
"Exactly," Maggie said and she looked at Keller. That's exactly what she was trying to do, stop a killer who should have been stopped four years ago. But she sat back, instead, and laced her fingers together in front of her on the table, preventing them from balling up into fists and slamming them into Keller's smug, sweaty face.
"Why don't you tell us what you have for us, Father Keller," Pakula told the priest, but now Maggie could feel him watching her out of the corner of his eyes.
"I've included copies of our e-mails," Keller continued, but now kept looking at Maggie, as if expecting her to interrupt. "I know there's a way you can trace Internet e-mail."
"Possibly," Pakula told him. "It would be better if we had your computer."
"Oh, I've brought my laptop. It's in my hotel room."
"I would guess," Pakula said, "that he's used some standard measures to prevent anyone from finding him. I doubt we'll be able to track his e-mail."
"But the FBI has all sorts of things they can do now since 9/11, right?" Father Keller asked. Now Maggie thought she could hear a tinge of frustration in his voice.
"What else do you have?" Pakula pressed on, glancing at Maggie. Finally he was showing some doubt and dissatisfaction. She sat quietly.
"I have a copy of the list," Keller said and gave the top of the box a tap. "Father Paul Conley was on it."
"What about Father Rudolph Lawrence?" Pakula asked.
"Lawrence? No, I didn't see that name."
"Are you sure?"
"When you discover your own name on a list of people to be eliminated you tend to know who else is on the list."
"How many are on the list?" Pakula wanted to know.