Authors: Deirdre Savoy
Body Of Truth (35 page)
Dana didn't know what to say to that. Her head swam, trying to assimilate what Ray had told her. She could understand a childish reaction to a dangerous situation. Those boys had probably been as frightened by the fire itself as they had been about being discovered. In her mind, she didn't excuse their behavior, but the logic of it reached her.
But three grown men destroying the lives of so many others for no other reason than to keep a past crime from being discovered she could not. Ray might not have actively participated in trying to cover things up, but there was such a thing as a sin of omission. He could have gone to any of his brothers-in-law seeking help, he could have warned her more directly, even if he did so anonymously. Anything. Now she understood the self-condemnation in his voice when he said he hadn't done anything. At least he had enough character to feel remorse.
She knew everything she needed to from him, except one thing. “Who is the third man, Ray? Who's Mouse?”
“I figured you'd get around to that question sooner or later.”
The voice, coming from the other side of the glass door, held an eerie quality that made the hairs on the back of Dana's neck stand up. The door opened and Father Mike stepped onto the porch. He let the door swing closed behind him. It clattered back and forth a few times before settling into its proper place. Each clang reverberated through her like the knell of a large bell.
For a split second, her mind whirred, as images from her dreams flooded her consciousnessâthe fish swimming in a sea of black, a frozen flame. She knew where she'd seen them now. On the back of Father Mike's car, the one Moretti had questioned her about seeing. The flame, which represented a burning candle, was the emblem of St. Matthew's. Bring a light unto the world, was the school's motto. It was emblazoned on a bumper sticker on the back of the black sedan right above one of those metal fish that Christians affixed to their cars as a symbol of Christ. In Father Mike's case, one of the twin tails had broken off as the result of someone rear-ending him.
Her subconscious mind had been screaming at her in her dreams. If it weren't for Father Mike standing there now wearing one of the school's sweaters she probably wouldn't have figured out how to fit those images together. But now that she had, she rose to her feet, truly frightened. Despite his dress, there was nothing holy about Father Mike's appearance. His hair was as wild as his eyes, and she feared something in him had snapped.
He turned his attention on Ray. “I see you told her everything, Randy. Tommy was right about you. Traitor!”
Father Mike's voice reminded her of an adolescent's whine at injustice, which only frightened her more. Adolescents were unpredictable, and sometimes inexplicably cruel when betrayed. If in his mind he'd gone back to the time they were boys together, there was no telling what he might do.
Ray rose to his feet. “You didn't have to come here, Mouse. I only told you I was coming here so you'd be prepared. I didn't plan on giving them your name. You could haveâ”
“I could have what? Run? Disappeared? Given up the life I'd created? Just because you couldn't keep your mouth shut? Tommy died to protect us and you want to make his sacrifice for nothing?”
Ray shook his head. “Tommy took his life because he knew they had him. He was going down long before he took it into his head to make this noble sacrifice. You know that as well as I do.”
As the men spoke, Dana inched herself backward, toward her front door. She regretted now not leaving it unlocked. If it were, she would have bolted for the door and left the two “friends” outside to quibble about their past. Now she'd have to worry about unlocking the door, which both men would notice. She felt confident Ray would let her go. She had no idea what Father Mike would do. But as far as she knew he wasn't armed, so she was going to chance it. When she got close enough to the door she turned, key in hand. She'd just slid the key into the lock when a bullet whizzed past her and embedded in the surface of the door, next to her head.
She glanced over her shoulder to see Father Mike standing beside her, a revolver in his hand. “Get away fromâ”
That's as far as Father Mike got before Ray was on him. As the two men grappled for possession of the gun, Ray said, “Go, Dana.”
She hadn't realized she'd stood there frozen watching them until Ray spoke. She turned back to the door, trying to get the uncooperative key to turn. She'd had this spare made, but never used it. She fiddled with it trying to get the tumblers to turn, her panic rising to a crescendo when a single shot sounded behind her and an instant later the slump of a body hitting the floor. Of the two men, Father Mike was the stronger and the more desperate. She hadn't counted on Ray overpowering him. When she heard Father Mike's voice she knew her assessment had been correct.
“Now, it's just us,” Father Mike said. “Now come away from that door.”
Dana turned around, but didn't move otherwise. Ray lay on the floor sprawled on his back, blood seeping from a wound in his belly. She couldn't let him die there like that. “Let me help him,” she said.
“He's beyond your help or mine. Let God take him.”
Tears welled in her eyes. Who was this man who'd helped her get Tim through school, the man who she had started to call her friend? A supposed man of God who was also a madman. “How can you do this?”
“I didn't want to hurt him. He gave me no choice. I can't go back to being what I was. I worked too hard to leave it behind. I changed my name, changed everything. Miguel Colon is dead.”
He'd escaped into being Michael Coyne, your friendly neighborhood priest. “And that gives you the right to take someone else's life?”
“I didn't want to kill Amanda Pierce. I'd heard she was looking into Father Malone's death. I wanted to find out how much she knew, maybe put us off investigating further. But she already knew our names. It was only a matter of time before she exposed all of us. I couldn't have that. I've spent most of my life devoted to God, dedicated to helping those boys. Didn't that count for anything? Didn't that make up for the death of one old man?”
She didn't have an answer for that. Even if he'd lived his life as a penance for what he'd done to Father Malone, his killing of Amanda Pierce had been nothing but a selfish desire to preserve what he had. There was no excuse for that.
“I tried to talk her out of investigating further, but she kept telling me she'd do what she wanted. She turned to walk away and I grabbed her scarf.”
Father Mike lowered his head. “I thought I'd left it all behind. Left behind the boy I was, all the anger, the shame. But it was still there. I'd never been tested before. I'd never had to look inside my heart and decide. And I failed.”
He was talking now as if to himself or to open space or maybe to Ray, prone on the floor. She wondered if he was still aware of Ray's presence. While he had the gun at his side, she was going to chance that he wasn't. She turned and grabbed the key. Finally the lock turned, but she didn't get a chance to turn the knob before he grabbed her around the waist.
“I can't let you go, Dana. You know that.”
His hold on her made the knife in her pocket chafe against her leg. As he tried to pull her from the door, she fumbled to get her hand in her pocket. She raised the knife and stabbed him, missing his throat and hitting his shoulder. He screamed and drew back from her, enough so that she could get the door open. She fell inside the open door. He lunged after her, catching her legs and tripping her as she tried to gain her feet. She kicked back, aiming for his shoulder where the knife still protruded. Hearing him scream again, she knew she'd hit her mark.
She scrambled away, both her arms and legs fighting to right herself. She raced down the hall, knowing she'd only have a few seconds at most before he followed her. She ran to the back door and unlocked it, leaving the door wide open. But rather than go out, she withdrew into the small bathroom to the left and shut the door. With any luck, Father Mike would think she'd run out of the house to escape him. He wouldn't look for her back here.
A second later she heard footsteps in the kitchen and the sound of something clattering to the kitchen floor. She held her breath for a moment, hearing nothing but silence. She shut her eyes hearing the footsteps again, closer this time. If he found her, she had nothing save a toilet brush with which to defend herself. But the footsteps veered off, and she heard the sound of the back porch door slamming.
She let out her breath, willing her heartbeat to normalize. He'd taken the bait and left. It occurred to her that she should go out and lock both her doors. She'd wait a minute to make sure he'd really left and hadn't slammed the door on purpose to trick her.
Leaning her back against the door, she slumped down to the floor. Where the hell was Jonathan?
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Jonathan's first clue that something wasn't right at Dana's house was that the front gate was open. She always closed it. The porch light was on, but from the street he couldn't see anyone occupying it. Beyond that, the front door was ajar.
He pulled his weapon as he walked up the front steps. He didn't hear a sound from the house, nothing to give him a clue as to what had gone on. He pulled open the glass porch door and immediately saw Ray lying on the floor. There was so much blood, Jonathan's belly roiled. Keeping his eye on the open front door, he knelt next to Ray and felt for a pulse.
Ray's eyes opened and his mouth worked. Jonathan leaned in to listen.
“Mouse . . . help her.”
Jonathan assumed the her was Dana, but mouse? Ray's eyes closed. Jonathan shook his shoulder. “Ray, what's happened? Where's Dana?”
Ray winced, but when his eyes opened again he fastened a clear-eyed lucid gaze on Jonathan. “T-tell Joanna I'm sorry.”
The look in his eyes went vacant. Jonathan used his middle and index fingers to close Ray's eyes. For a moment, Jonathan shut his eyes, while Pee Wee's words rang in his ears.
Look to your own house
. He'd never imagined the man meant it in a literal sense. Had Pee Wee known about Ray's involvement or had he just been talking about Moretti?
Look to your own house
. He'd never imagined the man meant it in a literal sense. Had Pee Wee known about Ray's involvement or had he just been talking about Moretti?
Either way, there was nothing more he could do for Ray. Now he needed to find Dana. He got to his feet. The knee of his pant leg was soaked in Ray's blood, leaving Jonathan with a cold, clammy feeling throughout his body. A feeling of death. He knew the man he hunted now had to be Miguel Colon, the third of the friends that had killed Father Malone. If he were willing to do this to Ray, what would he do to Dana?
Slowly, Jonathan started toward the house. He noticed another blood trail that started right outside the door and continued down the hall. Had Dana been wounded or had she managed to wound her attacker?
He continued down the hall to the kitchen. The light was on and the back door was open. The blood trail, that had been fizzling out, was stronger toward the opening. Jonathan advanced toward it, until he stepped on something at the edge of the tableâa short, bloody knife. This scene made no sense to him. Had one of them been wounded by the door and the other here by the knife? If so, why did there appear to be only one blood trail? He'd puzzle it out later. He continued toward the back door, until he heard a clicking sound to his left. He spun around, his gun poised to fire at whoever made the sound.
He'd forgotten about that little bathroom off to the side that Dana rarely used. She poked her head out. When she saw him, she drew back, with a cry of surprise. Then she launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck. For a moment, he hugged her trembling body against his, as words poured from her, tripping over one another, so that he couldn't make out much of what she said. The only thing he did grasp fully was that her assailant had gone out the back door.
He set her on her feet and closed and locked the back door. He turned around to find Dana staring transfixed at a man, a priest, standing at the opposite end of the kitchen.
“Put your gun on the floor, Detective Stone,” he said. “Slide it to me.”
Jonathan shook his head. He recognized in the man's face a mind that wasn't quite right. There was no way that he was going to leave himself and Dana at his mercy. He stepped forward, his arms raised but his weapon still in his hand. He wanted to appear non-threatening, at least until he managed to put himself between this madman's aim and Dana. “I can't do that, Father.”
“Then you're not leaving me any choice.”
Jonathan stepped in front of Dana, aimed and fired. His shot hit its mark, the center of the priest's forehead, but not before the priest squeezed off a round.
As the priest slumped to the floor, Jonathan looked down at his side. His flesh burned and blood oozed from a wound in his side. “Damn.”
As if from somewhere far away, he heard Dana calling his name. He blinked and the next thing he knew she was leaning over him, her face a mask of concern. He lifted one hand and brushed her tears away. “Don't cry, baby.”
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