“Okay, so it does look as though Eddie Gillick could be guilty,” she admitted, trying to keep her mind off her reactions to him. She crossed her arms over her chest and found her way back to the window, carefully keeping her back against the wall. Today the sky was so blue and large it looked artificial, not even a hint of a cloud. Most of the snow had melted off the sidewalks and lawns. Soon only the piles of black ice chunks along the streets would be left. Trees that hadn’t lost their leaves now shimmered with wet glossy gold, red and orange. It was as if a spell had been broken, a curse lifted, and everything was back to normal. Everything except the slight tug in Maggie’s gut, not from the stitches, but from her own nagging doubt.
“What was Christine doing with Eddie last night?”
“I haven’t talked to her about it this morning. Last night she said Eddie was supposed to take her home, but he took a detour. He told her if she had sex with him, he’d tell her where Timmy was.”
“He said he knew where Timmy was?”
“That’s what Christine said. Of course, I think she was delusional. She also told me President Nixon carried her to the side of the road.”
“The mask, of course. He carried Christine out of the car then stuffed his disguise into the trunk.”
“Then hurried along to chase Timmy through the woods,” Nick added. “This, of course, is after he tried to rape Christine, then attack you in the graveyard cellar. Busy guy.”
They stared at each other. The obvious left unsaid, settling between them and stirring up the same disappointment and panic that had driven them to this point.
“Did he try anything with you?” Nick finally asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You know… Did he…”
“No,” she said, cutting him off, rescuing him. “No, he didn’t”
Maggie remembered the killer fishing her gun out from inside her coat, accidentally grazing her breast He had snapped his hand back instead of letting it linger. When he whispered into her ear, he never once touched her skin. He wasn’t interested in sex, not with men and certainly not with women. His mother was a saint, after all. She remembered the images of tortured saints on Father Keller’s bedroom wall. The priesthood and its vow of celibacy would have been an excellent escape, an excellent hiding place.
“We need to question Keller one last time,” she said.
“We have absolutely nothing on him, Maggie.”
“So humor me.”
“Ms. O’Dell?” A nurse peeked around the door. “You have a visitor.”
“It’s about time,” Maggie said, expecting the perky, blond volunteer.
The nurse held open the door and smiled flirtatiously at the handsome, golden-haired man in the black Armani suit. He carried a cheap overnight case, and a matching garment bag was slung over his arm.
“Hi, Maggie,” he said, walking into the room as if he owned it, throwing a look at Nick before smiling his expensive-lawyer smile at Maggie.
“Greg? What in the world are you doing here?”
Chapter 98
Timmy listened for the vending machine to swallow his quarters before he made his selection. He almost chose a Snickers, but his gut remembered, and he punched the Reese button, instead.
He tried not to think about the stranger or the little room. He needed to stay focused on his mom and help her get better. It scared him to see her in that huge, white hospital bed, hooked up to all those machines that gurgled, wheezed and clicked. She seemed to be okay, even seemed happy to see his dad after, of course, she had yelled at him. But this time his dad didn’t yell back. He just kept saying he was sorry. When Timmy left the room, his dad was holding his mom’s hand, and she actually let him. That had to be a good sign, didn’t it?
Timmy sat in the plastic waiting-room chair. He unwrapped his candy bar and separated out the two pieces. Grandpa Morrelli was supposed to bring him a sandwich from Subway after the two of them had inspected the cafeteria’s meat loaf. The Subway was only across the street, but Timmy hadn’t had breakfast. He popped one whole peanut butter cup into his mouth and let it melt before he started chewing.
“I thought you were a Snickers guy.”
Timmy spun around in the chair, startled. He hadn’t even heard footsteps.
“Hi, Father Keller,” he mumbled over a mouthful.
“How are you, Timmy?” The priest patted Timmy’s shoulder, his hand lingering on Timmy’s back.
“I’m okay.” He swallowed the rest of the candy bar, clearing his mouth. “My mom had surgery this morning.”
“I heard.” Father Keller slid a duffel bag into the seat next to Timmy’s then knelt down in front of him.
Timmy liked that about Father Keller, how he made him feel special. He was genuinely interested. Timmy could see that in his eyes, those soft, blue eyes, that sometimes looked so sad. Father Keller really did care. Those eyes… Timmy looked again and suddenly a knot twisted in his stomach. Today, there was something different about Father Keller’s eyes. Timmy didn’t know what it was. He squirmed in his seat, and Father Keller looked concerned.
“You okay, Timmy?”
“Fine…I’m fine. It’s probably just all the sugar. I didn’t eat breakfast. You going someplace?” Timmy asked, swinging a thumb at the duffel bag.
“I’m taking Father Francis to his burial place. In fact, that’s why I’m here, to make sure the body is ready.”
“He’s here?” Timmy didn’t mean to whisper, but that’s how it came out.
“Down in the morgue. Would you like to come with me?”
“I don’t know. I’m waiting for my grandpa.”
“It’ll only take a few minutes, and I think you’ll enjoy seeing it. It looks like something out of The X-Files.”
“Really?” Timmy remembered watching Special Agent Scully doing autopsies. He wondered if dead people really did look all stiff and gray. “You sure it’s okay if I come along? Won’t the hospital people get mad?”
“Nah, there’s never anyone down there.”
Father Keller stood up and grabbed the duffel bag. He waited while Timmy shoved the rest of the Reese’s into his mouth, accidentally dropping the wrapper. When he knelt to pick it up, Timmy noticed Father Keller’s Nikes, crisp and white, as usual. Only today there was…there was a knot in one of the shoestrings. A knot holding it together. The knot in Timmy’s stomach tightened.
He stood up slowly, a bit dizzy. A sugar rush-that was all it was. He glanced up at Father Keller’s smiling face, the priest’s hand outstretched to him, waiting. One last quick glance at the shoe. Why did Father Keller have a knot in his shoestring?
Chapter 99
“How did you find out I was in the hospital?” Maggie asked when she and Greg were alone. She spread out the suits she had carefully packed days ago, pleased with their appearance despite two trips halfway across the country.
“Actually, I didn’t know until I arrived at the sheriff’s department earlier this morning. Some bimbo in a leather skirt told me about it.”
“She’s not a bimbo.” Maggie couldn’t believe she was defending Lucy Burton.
“This just reiterates my point, Maggie.”
“Your point?”
“That his job is much too dangerous.”
She dug through the overnight case he’d brought her, keeping her back to him and vowing to ignore the mounting anger. She concentrated on how good it felt to have her own things back. Perhaps it was ridiculous, but fingering her own underwear gave her an odd sense of control and security.
“Why won’t you just admit it?” Greg insisted.
“Admit what?”
“That this job is too dangerous.”
“For who, Greg? You? Because I don’t have a problem with it. I’ve always known there would be risks.”