Danner could feel the rage rising within him. “But you’re a priest, dammit. God won’t listen to me, but He’ll listen to you. I have to know. What does she want? What does the little girl want from me?”
“Perhaps if you told me a little more, we could work through this. Who is this little girl?”
“I don’t want to work through anything. Just tell me what she wants, so that I can give it to her. She won’t leave me alone until I do.”
“I’ll pray again, but I can’t promise. Perhaps you could talk to her yourself. Or perhaps her parents.”
Talk to her? Panic was causing his heart to pound. “No, I can’t talk to her. You have to do it.” He jumped to his feet. “I’ll give you more time, but you have to help me. Don’t tell me you can’t do it. You can do anything. You always say you want to help me. This is the only way you can do it. I trust you, Father. Try again. Help me.”
“Ted, talk to me. Not about this little girl if you don’t want me to ask questions about her. Tell me what else you’ve been doing.”
If he talked to the priest, he would be at his mercy as he had been all through the years. Danner could feel his frustration begin to turn to rage. Calm. Don’t turn on the only man who could help him. Don’t let loose the rage. Resist the temptation to step into the cubicle that had heard a million sins and kill the priest. That would truly make him one of the demons that were his enemies.
“Ted?”
“Just pray and find out what I need,” Danner said hoarsely. “And give me forgiveness.”
“If you were in the right, why would you need forgiveness?”
Why did the priest keep asking him questions? Kill him.
No, that was the demon whispering. He couldn’t listen.
He jumped to his feet. “I have to go. Good-bye, Father.”
“Don’t go. Come back to my office. You need me, Ted.”
Dear God, he did need him. But he was past the help the priest could give him except for this last request. “I have to go,” he said jerkily as he left the confessional. “Don’t fail me again.”
“Ted!”
Danner ignored Father Barnabas’s shout as he ran out of the church and down the stone steps.
He shouldn’t have come. He was hurting, and Father Barnabas had not been able to heal him. No, that was not true. The priest could do anything, his powers were without limit. He had not wanted to heal him. He had only wanted to tear aside the scabs of Danner’s wounds and watch him bleed.
As his hand had bled when John’s knife entered it.
He looked down at his bandaged hand, and the tears stung his eyes once more. Pain. Broken bones. Not John’s fault. John would never hurt him.
He must have demons whispering in his ear, too.
Catherine Ling. The Delilah.
He had recognized that quality in her when he’d first seen her earlier that night at the casino, when she and John had taken Jacobs captive. Beautiful, exotic, a sorceress weaving her spell. As John and the woman had hunted down Jacobs, so had Danner followed and stalked them, waiting for his chance. He had watched, listened, finding out what he could about her. He had thought that perhaps she could be spared, that she was only a temptress that John was using for pleasure. Then later, when she’d been stalking him at the bayou, he’d known that she had to be destroyed.
He cradled his torn, broken hand. He’d have to change bandages soon. He had taught John how to throw that knife with deadly accuracy at the cabin in Wisconsin, when John was only a boy. They had laughed and made bets, and for a little while, Ted had felt whole again.
Not John’s fault. It was the demon.
It was Delilah.
* * *
HE WAS GONE.
Father Barnabas stood on the top step and gazed out in frustration at the empty street.
He should have been quicker. He should have sensed how close Ted Danner was to breaking and running. He had been concentrating on how to tear through the wall around Danner and reaching him and had not realized how tightly the man was balanced.
And he knew how dangerous Danner could be when he was upset like this. Before he had been able to control him and he had thought that when Danner had come to him pleading for help with the child, he could lure him back to him. What had set him off this time?
Well, he wasn’t about to find out anytime soon unless he was able to give him what he wanted. He had become the enemy to Danner. He had felt the vibrations, the guilt, the searing rage that was fueling the man. He had been bracing himself for possible attack.
Danner was changing, becoming dangerous. Could he control him? Control was of the utmost importance with Danner.
He could do it. He had done it before through the years. All it took was perseverance and subtle manipulation. Danner regarded him as the only light to overcome the darkness that was trying to take over his soul.
As long as he kept thinking that was true, the control would be rock solid.
* * *
“THIS IS A FAR CRY from a VA hospital,” Eve said as Gallo pulled into the parking lot of the San Antonio Medical Center. It was a small brick-and-glass building that appeared sleek, modern, and affluent. The lot was occupied by a BMW, a gray Lexus, and a small red sports car. The neighborhood in which the medical center was located had the same air of prosperity as those luxury vehicles. “It seems Dr. Temple has moved up in the world.”
“Or down,” Gallo said grimly. “It depends on who you ask. I’ve met a couple of doctors who take care of servicemen and there are none better.”
“Everyone has a right to improve their lot in life,” she said as she got out of the car. “It’s the capitalist system.”
“You defend it, but how much do you charge for your forensic reconstructions?”
“Enough to make a living.” She waited for him at the plate-glass door. “I’m no martyr, John. I can’t be—”
“Excuse me.” A tall, tanned man in his early fifties had come out of the door. He was dressed in white shorts and T-shirt and gave Eve a dazzling smile. “Beautiful day, isn’t it?” He jumped into the red sports car and the next minute had roared out of the parking lot.
“Dr. Temple. I couldn’t reach—” A blond woman in a nurse’s uniform had run out of the building and was staring in exasperation at the sports car disappearing down the block. “Dammit to hell.”
“That was Dr. Temple?” Gallo asked. “We need to see him.” He glanced at the badge on her uniform. “Ms. Dawbler.”
“Stand in line,” the nurse said sourly. “He’s booked solid for the rest of the day.” Then she forced a smile. “He had an emergency, and I’ve had to cancel everything for the afternoon. I couldn’t reach his noon appointment, and I was trying to tell him before he left. If you’ll come inside, I’ll try to set you up for tomorrow.”
“Emergency?” Eve repeated. “He didn’t look as if he were rushing off to the hospital.”
“I can’t help how it looked,” she said shortly. “Dr. Temple told me it was an emergency. Would you like to make an appointment or not?”
“He had a golf bag in that sports car,” Gallo said. “Does he play at a local country club?”
She started to nod, then repeated, “It was an emergency. Excuse me, I have to go back inside and phone him.” She turned and went back into the medical center.
“What a charming man,” Eve murmured ironically. “It’s a beautiful day, and he ditches all his patients and takes off.” She headed back to the car. “But I have no intention of waiting around to see him tomorrow. I’ll check out all the country clubs in this general area on the computer, then start calling. I’d bet it’s not too far from the medical center. He impressed me as a man who wouldn’t want business to interfere with pleasure.”
Twenty minutes later, she turned to Gallo and handed him the number she’d scrawled on a notepad. “Diaz Country Club. It’s near the river. About a fifteen-minute drive.”
“Right.” Gallo started the car. “You did the search. Now I’ll do the interrogation. Okay?”
“I’ll see when we get there.” She was thinking of what Gallo had told her. “When did Temple leave his job at the VA hospital?”