by DeLeon, Jana
He extended his hand over the seat to Jackson. “Good to see you again. I’m glad we have some help on board.”
“Not in an official capacity, I’m afraid,” Jackson said as he shook Colby’s hand.
“I didn’t figure,” Colby said.
“How were things today?” Shaye asked.
“Quiet but weird,” Colby said.
“Weird how?” Shaye asked.
“Nicolas took your advice about sticking inside. Aside from traversing the sidewalks between buildings, he hasn’t had a breath of fresh air today. And we steered clear of the cathedral as well and mostly hid out in the priests’ private library except for one meeting he had about some fund-raiser. I know you don’t think it’s likely this guy would enter a room with other people and open fire, but it’s not an impossibility, either.”
“Anything is possible,” Shaye agreed.
“Anyway, Nicolas hasn’t said much, but he’s seriously spooked. Father Malcolm came into the library while we were there. I was walking the perimeter and he ran into me when he rounded one of the rows. Dropped the books he was carrying. Nicolas jumped like he’d been shot. Malcolm was practically tripping over himself to pick up the books. He muttered an apology over his shoulder and bolted out of there like he was on fire.”
Colby shook his head. “I don’t like it. I get a funny feeling from that guy. He’s not one of your suspects, is he?”
“I’m afraid he is,” Shaye said.
“Jesus,” Colby said. “Don’t you think you should have told me that?”
“My not telling you was deliberate,” she said. “I wanted to get your impression of Malcolm without any bias. I wanted to see what your instincts would tell you and not just your observations.”
“Yeah, that makes sense,” Colby said. “Well, my instincts tell me there’s something off about him. My observations tell me he doesn’t like me being around. If he’s the one, I guess that’s why.”
“We don’t know for certain that he’s the guy,” Jackson said. “There’s still the electrician to watch for. He was on the church grounds working today as well. Did you see him?”
Colby nodded. “He was in the hallway when we entered the library. He nodded at Father Nicolas and gave me the side-eye.” Colby frowned. “I could have sworn I heard the door to the library open about ten minutes later, but when I checked, there wasn’t anyone inside or in the hallway. But he was the only person I had seen in that area of the building prior to that.”
“Was he supposed to be working there?” Jackson asked.
“Nicolas didn’t think so,” Colby said. “But Malcolm is overseeing their work and sometimes wiring is run oddly in those old structures, so it’s possible his being there was legit. You followed him yesterday, right?”
Shaye nodded. “Nothing much to see. He did his job then went home. Girlfriend let him inside. Jackson did some legwork today and found out he lives alone. The girlfriend has an apartment in the French Quarter and is a flight attendant.”
“So no one to see his comings and goings for days on end,” Colby said.
“Exactly,” Shaye said. “And as Jackson followed her to the airport earlier, and she was suited up and had her travel bag, we’re assuming tonight is clear.”
“Nicolas stiffened when he saw him in the hallway,” Colby said. “I couldn’t see his face, but I could tell the guy made Nicolas nervous. He’s not very good at acting normal, I’m afraid. I’m guessing you haven’t told him that Malcolm is on your suspect list?”
“No. I don’t want to freak him out,” Shaye said. “What we have right now on Malcolm is completely circumstantial, although Jackson found out a bit more for us.”
She gave him a rundown on Malcolm’s appearance out of thin air fifteen years prior.
“Interesting,” Colby said. “But like you said. Circumstantial. He could have been a victim or a witness or just hated his given name. I went to school with a guy whose parents were stoners. They named him Donald. Last name was Duck.”
Jackson grimaced. “That’s awful.”
Colby nodded. “So how do you want to handle tonight? I’ve got to tell you, I’m feeling a little itchy about it now that I know Malcolm is as sketchy as he acted.”
“Jackson and I will move the car closer when it gets dark. From the west, we can find a spot with a good view of the windows and the ones opposite the street side. You can park across the street from the courtyard and that should give you a view of the front door and the street-side windows. Nicolas will check in with me every hour or so by text until he goes to bed. At that point, we’ll both have him on camera.”
“So we sit and wait and hope Malcolm doesn’t strangle him in his sleep before we get there.”
“If anyone enters Nicolas’s room, we move then,” Jackson said. “Nicolas has been instructed to sleep with his Mace, so he’s got a way to give us time to gain access.”
“And there’s also Father Bernard,” Shaye said. “I don’t think he could take Malcolm in a fight, but I think two of them could hold him off long enough for us to get there.”
Colby blew out a breath. “Man, I hope it’s the electrician guy. I really don’t want to shoot a priest.”
“Me either,” Shaye said.
But she also knew none of them would hesitate if Malcolm was the penitent.
Nicolas took one last bite of lasagna before setting his fork on his plate. “No more,” he said. “It’s going to take me ten years to work off what I just ate.”
Father Malcolm nodded. “And the thought of the treadmill right now makes me a little queasy.”
“Today is one of those times I’m glad I’m on official treadmill hiatus,” Bernard said. “So I take it you two enjoyed dinner?”
“I think we enjoyed it far too much,” Nicolas said. “And we appreciate you making it. I know it’s a long process, but the result is fantastic.”
Bernard smiled at the compliment. “It’s one of the best memories I have with my mother. Of course, she insisted we make the pasta from scratch, something I don’t do, or we’d be eating at 3:00 a.m. rather than 8:00. But don’t say that too loudly. She might hear and come back to haunt me.”
Nicolas and Malcolm both laughed. Considering everything Nicolas had on his mind, the evening had managed to be quite pleasant. Nicolas and Colby had arrived at the apartments before the other priests and Colby had done a quick scan to check windows and doors to ensure everything was secure. Colby had left when Bernard and Malcolm arrived, and Bernard had set out on dinner while Nicolas had assisted Malcolm, who was combing through several years of photos to pick the best ones to add to the website.
When dinner was ready, they’d all gathered at the table and proceeded to eat themselves into a stupor. But Nicolas had enjoyed the big, heavy meal. It had felt homey and nostalgic, and he imagined that was the primary reason Bernard insisted on cooking an Italian dish periodically, even though none of them needed the calories that came with it. Nicolas had managed—just for a few seconds—to forget everything that was going on.
But unfortunately, as quickly as the horrible things he had dwelling in his mind faded, they returned. He worried about tonight, even though he shouldn’t. He was safe in the apartment with both Malcolm and Bernard in residence. And Shaye had a camera in his room, watching everything. And somewhere outside, she and Colby were watching the building. Even if the penitent risked trying to break in, Colby and Shaye would be there to stop him.
Nicolas couldn’t help but wonder if he’d take that risk.
Yesterday, he would have said no. But now that one of his victims had gotten away, what was he feeling? Was he in a panic to meet some quota he thought he was being called for? Was he afraid that any minute the police would knock on his door? The whole thing was so far outside the scope of normal thinking that Nicolas didn’t know what to believe. What to expect. What he was certain of was that he wouldn’t be sleeping all that well until it was over.
Malcolm was recounting a hum
orous story about two children playing hide-and-seek in the cathedral that afternoon and Nicolas forced a smile. Bernard was softly chuckling and then he looked over at Nicolas and frowned.
“Are you all right?” Bernard asked. “You’ve lost color in your face.”
Nicolas didn’t even remember answering before he dropped into darkness.
29
Nicolas awakened with his head pounding. Involuntarily, he tried to lift his arm to touch it, but his wrists were tied to a wheelchair and an IV was inserted into his right arm. Instantly, he panicked. It wasn’t his wheelchair and this definitely wasn’t his apartment. This was it. The penitent had him. But how?
He struggled to remember, but all that came to mind was dinner with Bernard and Malcolm and then nothing. He must have been drugged. But how had the penitent taken him? How had he gotten Nicolas out of the apartment with Malcolm and Bernard right there?
He sucked in a breath. What if the penitent had killed them? Just to get to Nicolas. It was the one horrible thought that had lurked at the back of his mind the whole time, and now that could be exactly what happened. But how had he gotten past Shaye and Colby? Had he killed them as well? Was all this blood on Nicolas’s hands? He squinted into the darkness, trying to make out his surroundings, but all he saw was stone.
Exactly what Hailey Pitre had described.
In the far corner of the room, he saw something move. He narrowed his eyes even more, trying to make out the shape, and finally decided it was someone in a chair. But he had only moved once and hadn’t again. Were Malcolm and Bernard being held captive as well? Or had the penitent taken someone else entirely?
He heard footsteps behind him and twisted around, trying to see who was approaching, but he could barely make out the figure in the dark hallway. As it drew closer, he saw the hooded figure emerge from the shadows, his blank face looking down at Nicolas.
A wave of dizziness washed over Nicolas, and he struggled to remain conscious while at the same time, his mind argued that slipping into an unconscious state might be a better way to go. But he knew the penitent would never allow him to leave this world that easily. He wanted repentance, then he wanted death. Unconscious men couldn’t confess.
As Nicolas stared up at the blank face, his heart beat harder and faster until he thought his chest would explode. Every second of silence that ticked by was more miserable than the one before. This was it. After everything he’d overcome, he was going to die between these damp, musty walls at the hands of a madman who thought he was following orders from God. If he wasn’t actually living it, he would have laughed at the absurdity.
Finally, the penitent reached up and pulled his hood back. Then he grabbed the edges of the mask and lifted it from his face. Nicolas gasped.
“No! It can’t be.”
The smiling face of Father Bernard looked down at him.
Nicolas stared at the senior priest in horror. “I don’t understand. You, of all people, know what you’re doing is wrong. Please tell me this is some sort of horrible joke.”
Nicolas couldn’t believe what he was seeing. It was surreal. He felt that at any moment, he’d wake up in his bed, covered with sweat from another nightmare. Only this time, the nightmare was real.
“You drugged me at dinner,” Nicolas said.
Bernard nodded. “It was necessary to conduct my business. It’s not the first time, either. I’ve ensured my secrecy several times by dosing your and Malcolm’s drinks. It was the first time I’ve gone that strong on your dosage. But the flumazenil reversed the effect of the sleeping pills quite nicely, and quickly, I might add.”
Nicolas’s mind whirled. “Why do you know this stuff? And where would you get such a medication?”
“My mother is a nurse, remember? After my brother died, I found the bottles in her bathroom. She admitted to lifting them from the hospital where she worked. She used it on my brother when she was afraid he’d overdosed. With my brother dead, she no longer needed them and shouldn’t have had them to begin with. So I took the medication intending to destroy them, but then that night, God came to me. Told me about my life’s true purpose.”
“You’re crazy,” Nicolas said.
“God told me you’d say that. You and others. Now that you know my truth, are you willing to share your truth with me? Are you ready to confess your sins before the Father?”
“I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Sure you do. It’s in there. You just have to find it.”
“Like you wanted Hailey Pitre to do? She was a child. So was that other girl you killed.”
Bernard shook his head. “They were both sinners. Each likely to have children out of wedlock. Neither in a position to be a good mother. This town is already burdened with kids living on the street. Do you think God created rules for us out of folly?”
“Of course not, but he also didn’t call us to kill people who broke them.”
“I’m not killing them. I’m saving them.”
A chill rushed through Nicolas at the sound of Bernard’s voice. He was so calm, so matter-of-fact. As if he were telling Nicolas it was going to rain or the mail was running late. And that’s when Nicolas realized, with complete certainty, that he was going to die. There would be no rationalizing with Bernard. He was so far gone that nothing Nicolas could say would negate the calling Bernard thought he had.
“And Father Malcolm?” Nicolas asked. “Is that him in the corner? Does he also have sins to confess?”
“We all have sins to confess, but I’m afraid Father Malcolm’s biggest shortcoming was being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I never intended to make Father Malcolm part of this, but you gave me no choice when you hired Shaye Archer to investigate and that bodyguard to protect you. I prayed over it many hours and then God sent me the answer. So simple.”
“What answer?”
“To take Malcolm as well. He’s my salvation, you see. This time there will be no strangulation or placement on the cross. Poor Father Malcolm will simply go off the deep end and shoot you and then himself. I’ll slip upstairs and take a good dosage of the sleeping medication that I gave you and wake up to all of this. Then the police and Shaye Archer can close their files, and I can let God direct me to a new place to continue his work.”
Nicolas shook his head, his mind swimming with Bernard’s thoughts. “What happened to you? You are not the man who hired me at seminary and welcomed me into his church.”
“God’s voice happened. The first time was two months ago. I was attending to my daily prayers for the congregation and I heard him as if he’d picked up a microphone and started speaking to me.”
“And you think God is calling you to kill me and frame Father Malcolm for it? To let Malcolm’s family suffer under the false belief that their son was a serial killer?”
Bernard’s face flashed red with anger. “I am not a killer!”
Nicolas stared at him, incredulous. He actually believed that he wasn’t a monster. Despair flooded through Nicolas and he felt the last ounce of energy drain from his body. Even if his legs were sound, escape was impossible. He was tied to the chair, he had no idea where he was, and Bernard had a gun. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, then opened them again and looked up at Bernard.
“What do you want me to confess?” Nicolas asked.
Bernard shook his head. “You already know.”
“I don’t know. I sin every day, but I can’t imagine that any of those things is worth dying for.”
“You killed her.”
Nicolas stared. “The wreck? That wasn’t my fault. I wasn’t driving. I was knocked unconscious. There was nothing I could have done to render aid afterward.”
Bernard studied his face, then frowned. “You really don’t know. This whole time, I thought… It doesn’t matter. A woman and an unborn child died because of the poor choices you made.”
“I’ll take responsibility for not insisting we wait until the next day to drive home. Is that wha
t you want?”
Bernard gave Nicolas a sad look and shook his head. “You were driving. You just don’t remember.”
“No. Jason was driving. He told the police what happened.”
“Jason told the police that he was driving to protect you. He knew he was dying. He saw no reason for three people’s lives to be over so he lied.”
Nicolas shook his head, trying to fight the nausea that threatened to overtake him. “That can’t be. I would have known. If I’d been driving, I would have remembered.”
But would he? The accident had almost killed him. Could he be certain that it happened the way the police told him it did? Could Jason have lied for him? No. He refused to believe that. Besides, even if Jason had lied, there was no way Bernard could have known.
A thought flashed through his mind. One that cut like steel and made everything crystal clear. He looked up at Bernard.
“You performed last rites on Jason,” Nicolas said.
Bernard nodded. “And took his final confession.”
Nicolas lowered his head and began to sob as overwhelming guilt washed over him. So many lives ruined. He deserved to die. But God forgive him, he didn’t want to.
“I’m so sorry,” Nicolas said as he cried. “Please forgive me.”
“Do it correctly, Father Nicolas.”
Nicolas started to choke and then finally began to recite the Act of Contrition.
When he was done, Bernard nodded and extended his right hand over Nicolas’s head and began the absolution. “God, the father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his son, has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. Through the ministry of the church may God give you pardon and peace. I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.”
Nicolas didn’t even try to utter the “Amen.” What was the point? He was forgiven.
Now he would die.
30
