Tom Lowe
Blood of Cain
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
After I write “The End,” I get tell how it began. This page of the novel is where I have the opportunity to thank those who’ve helped me. Although Blood of Cain is a work of fiction, some of the material related to experiments into government covert human mind control is based upon information gathered from declassified documents related to CIA experiments and testing during the 1960s. A special thank you to Todd Garner, Ph.D. Thanks to John Wortman for his consultation on guns and ballistics. Thumbs up to Tom Greenberg and Greg Houtteman of EO MediaWorks for the design of my website, tomlowebooks.com
A big shout out and thanks to my daughter, Cassie, my first beta reader. To Jannell Parque, Author’s Accomplice, for proofreading; Damonza for cover design; Jennifer Lassiter for ebook and print formatting. I want to thank my family for their strong support for each novel that I write. This includes Natalie, Cassie, Christopher, and Ashley. A drum roll and special thank you to my wife, Keri. I’m grateful for her spot-on suggestions, listening skills, patience, smile, and sense humor. Keri, you are my inspiration and truly the wind in my sails.
In memoriam: to Sadie, a little bit of her lives on in the character of “Max.” We miss you.
And now to you, the reader. If you’ve read other books in the Sean O’Brien series, here’s a toast to you. Welcome back! If this is your first venture into the journey, I hope you enjoy Blood of Cain.
DEDICATION
For Cassie
EPIGRAPH
“I’ve learned a lot about good and evil. They are not always what they appear to be.”
Prologue
Kate Flanagan was glad that the confessional booth would keep her from looking the priest in the eye. Father Thomas Garvey’s sapphire blue eyes had a strange power, she thought. It was a power not of this world. But he was a priest, someone who walked a straighter path under God’s direction. He was a man of God.
Then why was she so physically attracted to him?
It had begun six months ago when Father Garvey first moved to the parish and started delivering mass at St. Vincent’s Church. Kate had sat in the pew with her husband and listened to Father Garvey speaking in a soft, yet deep voice when he led the service. His angular face was movie-star handsome. He had thick, dark eyebrows and combed his black hair straight back. Although the priest would be scanning the congregation as he spoke, she felt that his eyes sought hers, connecting, even if only for a few seconds at a time. He was somehow linking with her deepest most personal thoughts, her soul. She could feel it. Kate would catch herself fantasizing about him, her face flushing, the damp warmth smoldering under her Sunday dress. Then she would silently pray to God to forgive her for sinful thinking, and of all places, in our Lord’s house.
She tried to put that out of her thoughts as she entered the confessional booth. Before she left her home, she had spent extra time fixing her dark, shoulder-length hair, and applying blush and lipstick to her oval face and full lips. Now, she waited. How long had it been since her last confession? Was she the first to speak or was it supposed to be the priest? Think. She waited a half a minute. She could hear a farmer’s tractor, the diesel straining, pulling a load up the road outside the rural church. She looked at her watch. Too early for her husband Peter to be picking her up. She heard a sheep cry, its bleating coming from a field behind the church. Then there was the long, confident stride of someone approaching. Kate felt her breathing quicken. She heard Father Garvey take his seat. She could feel his physical presence just beyond the thin wall. She looked at the lattice grid and cleared her throat. Her heart beat faster, and she dropped down on her knees, making the sign of the cross. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”
Father Garvey said nothing.
Kate folded her hands in prayer, waiting. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”
“When was your last confession?”
“I can't remember, Father.”
“Our Lord, Jesus, remembers.”
“Yes, Father. I'm sorry.”
“What is it you wish to confess?”
Kate paused a moment, her hand rubbing the rosary beads she carried. “Father, I confess that I haven't been completely honest with my husband.”
“You have lied?”
“Yes, I haven’t been completely truthful with Peter.”
“In what way?”
“We have been married for three years. The last two years I have been trying to become pregnant. The Lord hasn’t blessed us with a child yet, and I believe it is my fault.”
“Why do you feel this way?”
“I think God is punishing me because I have unclean thoughts, thoughts of others.”
“Other men?”
“Yes, Father. I am so ashamed. I love my husband. I really do, but there is something happening to me that I don't understand, these feelings inside me. He can tell that all is not right. He asks, but I lie to him and pretend all is fine. Over and over I lie. He is a good man. I seek absolution … penance, Father.”
“That's why our Lord brought you here, Kate.”
She held her fingers to her lips. “How do you know who I…”
“Our Lord knows all.”
“But you're not …”
“Not what? You haven't been chaste in thought and word, have you, Kate?”
“No, Father.”
“You haven't used sex for its sole purpose of procreation. It has been self-gratification, hasn't it?”
“Yes.”
“That violates the Word.”
“Yes, Father.”
“And you seek absolution? Yes? You desire to be fruitful under God’s command?”
“Yes, and I’m sorry for being deceptive to Peter. Am I forgiven, Father? What is my penance?” She closed her eyes and stroked the rosary beads.
The door to the confessional flew open. Kate, still on her knees, looked up at Father Garvey in the open doorway. He said, “I am your penance. God, has sent you to me.”
“What?”
“Stand up.”
Kate slowly stood. He entered the booth and stepped next to her. He smelled of testosterone and lilac soap. His dark blue eyes fiery. Intense. His lips were moist. Square jaw-line as hard as granite. He placed his big hand on her shoulder, his fingers massaging her, working his way down to the small of her back.
“Please, Father …”
He leaned closer and whispered. “Sex is for procreation. God has delivered you here for a reason, Kate. Sometimes we fail to understand His plan. You cannot deny divine providence.” He stroked her face gently, the tips of his long fingers moving over her cheek, lips, and down to her breasts. He leaned in to kiss her, slowly, his lips soft, his mouth warm and hungry for her.
She broke away for air. “I can't!”
“You can! And you will because God has a greater plan for you, Kate. You can atone. Impure thoughts can be absolved.” Father Garvey skillfully forced his right hand up her dress. His hand was wide and strong, fingers firm as he stroked her inner thighs. He kissed her again. This time Kate felt her lips part, his tongue touching hers, his fingers arousing heat and wetness inside her. She wanted him, wanted him to take her. Suddenly, he lifted her out of the confessional, carrying her like a child in his powerful arms. She felt fragile and yet sheltered.
He walked by the front pews, through the open door in his office, and set her down on a large wooden desk, spilling papers onto the floor. He cupped her face in both of his large hands as he kissed her. She moaned, her tongue meeting his. His hand was under her dress, fingers entering her. She gasped, leaning her head back, eyes closed, her heart racing.