She had just finished packing her briefcase when she heard the outside door to the office open. Amanda had either forgotten something or she'd neglected to lock it on her way out She couldn't handle one more delivery or repairman and was about to say just that when James Campion stopped in her doorway.
"Hello, Dr. Patterson," he said, sounding out of breath.
He looked awful compared to his usual neat and tidy self. His clothes were wrinkled as if he had slept in them, his hair disheveled and his eyes bloodshot and swollen.
"James? Are you all right?"
"I really need to talk to you, Dr. Patterson."
"What's happened? Are you hurt?"
"No, no. Not hurt. At least not the way you mean."
She knew she should tell him to come back in the morning, that it was after hours. But he looked so frantic, so frightened, his boyish face grimacing, and she worried morning might be too late, remembering the hesitation marks on his wrists.
"Come in and sit." She needed to calm him down, but he was pacing the length of her office, watching out the window with every pass as if expecting to see that someone had followed him. She didn't like her patients up and about. It made them too out of control.
"We can talk, James, but you need to sit down and tell me what's happened."
Finally he stopped long enough to meet her eyes and in what sounded like a very small boy's voice he whispered, "The pounding, the banging," and he pointed to his chest and his head, "it won't stop. I think it's because I broke the rules."
CHAPTER 78
The Embassy Suites
Omaha, Nebraska
Nick actually looked forward to the evening. After some persuasion, he had gotten Christine to agree that Timmy could spend the night with him in his suite. He had even gotten Christine to call Mrs. McCutty and convince her that Gibson could spend the night, too. Of course, it hadn't been easy. At first Christine didn't like the idea.
"I can't believe you want to reward them for skipping school," she yelled at him over the phone. "You know how much I spent on that Explorers class?"
When he told her about Brother Sebastian coming to the house, looking for the two boys, she went silent.
"I don't know what's going on," Nick told her, "but you have to admit, this Sebastian guy is pretty creepy."
"He's the archbishop's henchman," Christine said. "If there's something going on it involves Archbishop Armstrong. You don't think he's trying to get at Timmy because I've been working on this article, do you?"
"Are you kidding?" Sometimes he couldn't believe how naive his big sister could be. "You're trying to pin a cover-up on him and you don't think he might try to stop you?"
""Maybe it would be a good idea for the boys to be someplace else. I'll call Mrs. McCutty and tell her."
His powers of persuasion worked on Jill, too, though he hated to admit there was little persuading. Jill seemed more than willing to forfeit an evening with him for another opportunity to check out flower arrangements, and oh by the way, the caterer was bringing by some samples so if he wasn't going to be around she'd invite her bridesmaids over.
He was beginning to wonder if she was more excited about the getting-married part than she was about marrying him. What was it about wedding planning that seemed to turn an intelligent, sophisticated, professional woman into a magazine-flipping, mall-hunting, shop-till-you-drop addict? Even when they did manage to get together their conversation invariably turned to mini-quiches versus miniature watercress sandwiches and whether or not one groom's cake would be sufficient. Surely they had talked about other things once upon a time, though at the moment he couldn't remember a regular conversation in quite a while.
Right now he didn't want to think about any of that. He just wanted to enjoy watching Timmy and Gibson gawk at everything in the hotel as if they were traveling through some futuristic world. They had stopped at Target on the way with the intention of buying Gibson a change of clothes, especially after the kid visibly cringed at the thought of stopping at his own house. Although they had bought pretty much only the basics, their miniature shopping spree ended up being a lot of fun. He hadn't laughed that hard in a very long time. Of course, it wasn't anything quite as elaborate as Jill and her friends would consider, but the boys seemed pleased and insisted on keeping their new shades on even as they walked the lobby and hallways of the hotel.
"Can we go to Ted and Wally's for ice cream later?" Timmy wanted to know.
"I think we'd better stay in tonight and stick to room service," Nick told him. "I don't think your new friend would think to look here or in the Old Market for you, but let's not take any chances, okay?"
But Gibson and Timmy were smiling at each other about the room service and already forgetting about their fear of Brother Sebastian. Nick was glad he could make them feel safe, but in the back of his mind he kept remembering what Tony had said about Brother Sebastian, that the man would do anything for Archbishop Armstrong. Already the guy had ransacked Monsignor O'Sullivan's office, roughed up Gibson in the school hallway and lied to the boy's mother, making up a story about him selling drugs. Nick was beginning to wonder what else Brother Sebastian was capable of. Did it include murder?
Timmy and Gibson weren't telling him everything either. First Tony and now these two. They knew something but remained tight-lipped every time he asked. He'd ply them with junk food and try again later. His first priority tonight was to keep them safe from the archbishop's henchman, as Christine had called him.
Nick was so focused on looking for Brother Sebastian that he didn't notice another tall man watching from one of the sofas in the hotel lobby;
CHAPTER 79
The Embassy Suites
Omaha, Nebraska
Father Michael Keller could feel the digitalis starting to work. He knew it was probably only his imagination. There was no guarantee that the antidote would help, let alone work this quickly. But the cold sweats had stopped. His stomach had settled down and despite being empty it no longer churned. However, he wasn't too sure if his eyesight had returned to normal.
He sat in the hotel lobby enjoying the piped-in music _ a commercial attempt at Pachelbel's Canon in D Minor __ and taking in all the sights outside: tourists in the Old Market strolling up and down the cobblestones, cars and buses and even Olley the Trolley zooming along. He watched it all, enjoying what in his previous life had annoyed and irritated him. His eyesight seemed fine until he saw a man and two teenage boys come through the revolving hotel door, then he wondered if he was seeing things again.
Was he mistaken or did he know the man? He couldn't place him. More importantly, the boy in the bright orange T-shirt and baggie cargo shorts looked very familiar. It was possible that they had been parishioners when he was at Saint Margaret's in Platte City,
He pretended not to watch as he sipped another glorious cup of hot tea. This place was like a dream __ paradise on earth. He wished he could stay forever, but now that he had handed over everything to Maggie O'Dell and Detective Pakula his mission would soon come to an end.
On the long flight here he had reaffirmed his decisions. He wasn't going back. He'd get on the flight just as he had promised Agent O'Dell. But there was no reason to punish himself any longer. With everything he had given them, surely they would find The Sin Eater. It was only a matter of time. And in the meantime he needed to find somewhere else safe. Why not a small rural parish where no one knew him? Maybe someplace outside of Chicago.