False Positive

by C. Ryan Bymaster

  He looked up, and even in the spare glow of the streetlight she could see his eyes were red. “What’s going on, Kasumi? Please, tell me.”

  She had to think. She’d screwed things up royally. With Jason. With her whole idea about the church as a cover. Then, she stepped up to him, hands going to his arms. “You never go to church?”

  He shook his head, searching her eyes for something. “No. Not if I don’t have to.”

  “What about Becka?”

  “What? No. She’s been into art these last years. Not very talented, but she keeps at it. Always finding some new place, some cabin in the middle of nowhere, to do her thing.”

  “Chutes and Ladders?”

  He cocked his head in confusion but answered anyway. “They’re with me most of the time, like I said.”

  Her hands dropped. “Theresa,” she whispered.

  “What?”

  “Theresa!” She almost slapped her forehead.

  “What?”

  He was beginning to sound like a broken record. A cute, but broken, record. She shook those thoughts from her brain. “We have to get to Saint Nicholas.”

  “Why?”

  She headed to her side of the car. “I’ll tell you on the way but ….” She looked at the steering wheel, knowing how distracted he could get with her in the car with him. “You have to promise you will control your emotions.”

  And I’ll try to control mine, she thought.

  ---

  To his credit, Jason kept a calm mind as she explained what she was, what Dent was, and why they were here. He only asked a few questions here and there, and he only gave her awkward glances when he thought she wasn’t looking. The occasional streetlight or oncoming set of headlights served to mask Jason’s features in half-shadows as he concentrated on the road, making it that much harder for Kasumi to determine was he was thinking or feeling.

  Whatever hope she had of them getting together were dashed to pieces now. She gave up trying to guess what he felt about her. How could she expect him to like her anymore now that he knew the truth about her?

  Now that he knew she was a freak.

  “That’s not good,” he said as he slowed and pulled into a parking lot across from Saint Nicholas.

  The flashing red and blue lights, the cops walking around, the few men in dark suits. Jason hit it on the head. This was not good.

  “We need to get to Theresa,” she said, getting out of the car.

  He soon joined her, almost shoulder to shoulder, and she had to resist the urge to lean into him.

  Looking over at her with what looked like concern, he told her, “With whatever Dent did here, you won’t be getting in.”

  She kept her eyes focused across the street. “Theresa could be in trouble, Jason. We have to find her.”

  “What if Dent got to her? What if he hurt her?”

  She spun on Jason. “Dent wouldn’t hurt her,” she hissed, furious that Jason would even think such a thing.

  He squared his shoulders and snapped at her, “Then why is she in danger, huh?”

  “Because … She can’t stay here. Not after this.” She waved a hand in the direction of all the police. “She won’t be able to hide what she is. Not anymore.”

  She could hear Jason breathing heavily from his nose and from the corner of her eye she could see his jaw clenching. He looked back to Saint Nicholas and suddenly grabbed Kasumi’s shoulder, spinning her about.

  “There’s Father Lance,” he pointed out. “He’s … he’s sitting in the back of that ambulance.”

  She followed his pointed finger and gaze, drawn in by the amber flashes of the ambulance outside Saint Nicholas.

  Oh, God, Dent. What did you do?

  XXIX

  Together the two of them rushed to ambulance, ignoring several calls from cops or random adults watching from the sidelines for them to stay back. When they reached Father Lance and slowed to catch their breaths, he was sitting on the back of the wide-open ambulance and adamantly shoving a medic away from him.

  “I will not go to the hospital,” Father Lance was saying. “I won’t tell you again!”

  “Father!” Jason cried and rushed to his side, careful of the heavy bandaging and temporary cast that covered the man’s lower leg and entire foot.

  “Jason! My Lord, Jason, I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “We need your help, Father,” Jason said, sending his gaze back to where Kasumi stood.

  Upon seeing her, Father Lance stood up from his perch. Through a pained grimace he said, “Your father did this!”

  “He had good reason,” she growled at him, more in blind defense of Dent than anything.

  “For this?” The man gestured to his foot. “He shot me. He brought a gun inside the walls of the parish.”

  “He only would have if he had good reason,” she repeated.

  She thought Father Lance was going to shout at her again but his eyes glazed over, as if running through a memory. Then his shoulders sagged.

  She asked, “What happened?”

  “Dent came in demanding to know about the children that have passed through Saint Nicholas over the years.”

  She shared a look with Jason. “Where’s Theresa, Father Lance?”

  “In her room. Safe. But the east wing is closed to everyone because of the investigation. The investigations. The murder investigations.”

  “I need to get to her, Father.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I need to!”

  “Father,” Jason said, his voice tight, the anger he was feeling, probably induced by her own anger, bleeding through. “We need your help. Please.”

  Father Lance made a sound deep in his chest as he stared into Kasumi’s eyes. “Does this have to do with what Dent claimed? About what is happening, has been happening under my nose this whole time?”

  Kasumi searched his eyes for a hint of something, anything. “You … You didn’t know?”

  “Of course not!” His head shook and his eyes dropped. “Of course not ….”

  Trust him or not? Kasumi thought. Flashing lights, urgent and clipped voices all around her, and Saint Nicholas Parish swarmed with people who didn’t come here for a confession, unless if that confession came from the man who they believed caused this all. With Theresa — the real reason for all of this — still inside and her secret hidden, Dent would be the one who would have to answer for it all.

  “Jason,” she ordered, “help Father Lance walk.”

  Surprisingly without a word, Jason didn’t hesitate to do as she said. Could be the firm resolve she felt coursing through her and out into him, could be his own desire to help her any way he can. Either way, Kasumi wanted to hug him.

  Even as Jason put an arm around Father Lance, the man said, “You can’t get in, Kasumi. They won’t let anybody inside.”

  She spun, her eyes on the massive front doors of the church. “Yeah, well guess what? I’m not anybody.”

  She stomped her way forward.

  Behind her, she heard Jason mumble something, but he dutifully followed, Father Lance tight at his side.

  “Keep yourselves under control,” she said over her shoulder.

  Father Lance gave her a shocked look, but Jason did his best to give a rapid explanation of what Kasumi was, and what she had meant. Normally she would have shut Jason up. The less people that knew about her, the better. But this moment was all but normal.

  She stormed by a pair of officers and they turned to tell her to stop where she was. While Father Lance came up to them, trying to convince them to let her pass, she quickly scanned their name badges. One of the cops was fairly handsome. She took special note of his name.

  A minute later, the pair of officers busy with Father Lance and Jason, Kasumi leapt up the steps leading to the front doors of Saint Nicholas. The single officer on duty spread his feet before the entryway and glared at her when he realized she was heading straight for him.

  She glared right back. This idiot tho
ught he could hold her back, did he?

  He lifted a hand, telling her to stop. “You can’t go in.” His voice was guttural, almost a hoarse yell. No doubt he was feeling her seething anger.

  On the raised hand, she saw the glint of a wedding ring. Perfect.

  She stopped before him, her chest heaving with bottled anger. She read his name badge. “So, you’re Thurman, huh?”

  His hand dropped and rested on his holstered gun. “Yeah? What’s it to you?” he snapped.

  “Figures,” she said, giving him a pitiful shake of her head.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “How’s your wife?”

  “What? She’s fine. What business is it of yo—”

  “Barkley back there is bragging about being with your wife when you’re not around.” She gave out a harsh laugh. “I don’t blame her, either. Barkley’s a good looking guy.”

  His eyes strayed over her shoulder to take in Barkley in a death-stare. “How do … What?”

  She sneered at Thurman. “Bet you work a lot of late nights, huh? Your wife doesn’t mind, though. Not with Barkley being only a phone call away ….”

  Thurman’s lips cavorted. “That bastard!” he growled “Move!”

  And she let herself be pushed aside as Thurman rushed down the steps to kick Barkley’s ass. She only spared a moment of guilt for them, worried that one of the men would pull out their guns, but a moment was all she had. Father Lance and Jason were already at the base of the steps.

  She headed inside Saint Nicholas and waited.

  “Where’s her room?” she asked when the two joined her.

  “Second floor of the east wing,” Father Lance answered.

  She headed that way.

  There were bright halogen lights set up all along the interior of the church and officers and plain-clothed men and women milling about, heads and eyes trained on the floor and walls.

  One woman called out, yelling at them authoritatively. “Hey! You can’t be in here!”

  Father Lance’s voice boomed as he said, “This is my parish! I belong in here!” His words came back to them all a few more times, bouncing off walls and roof and stained glass. Like God himself had cleared his throat, almost everyone inside the church stopped what they were doing to look at Father Lance. They all watched, dumbfounded, as Kasumi led Jason and Father Lance to the doors to the east wing and on through.

  “Which way?”

  “Up the stairs, that way,” Jason replied quickly. She could still hear traces of anger in his clipped words.

  When they reached Theresa’s door, Kasumi looked at Jason and Father Lance and waved them back a ways. Neither objected.

  She didn’t know what to expect when she opened the door. From what she remembered of Theresa, the girl was mean-spirited and angry. And now that Kasumi knew what Theresa was, how the girl willingly used her talent to manipulate so many people who came to this place to pray and congregate, Kasumi was going to let the girl have it.

  Anger wrapped tight around her like armor, Kasumi threw the door open.

  And saw Theresa huddled in a ball on her bed, body shaking from audible sobs.

  Definitely not what she’d expected.

  Apparently, not what Jason or Father Lance had expected, either. In a blink, Jason shouldered his way past Kasumi and was on the bed with Theresa, his hand rubbing her back, cooing soft words to her.

  Jealousy chipped away at her anger-armor.

  Father Lance hobbled in, though not as fiery as Jason had, and he too went to the bed to speak soft words to the crying girl.

  Kasumi tried to maintain her anger but the pitiful sight of Theresa was overwhelming.

  “Is it true, Theresa?” Jason asked in a friendly tone.

  From within the bubble of her body and hugging limbs, Theresa mumbled, “What?”

  “What you can do?” Jason prompted. “What you have been doing?”

  Now Theresa unfolded herself. Kasumi saw that the girl’s eyes were swollen, her lower lip purple from where she’d been biting down on it. Theresa looked up at Father Lance, like a puppy dog that’s made a mess in the living room.

  “He said it would help you, Father Lance,” she said, practically whining. “That it would elevate Saint Nicholas, help it become a beacon of hope.”

  “So it’s all true,” Father Lance said. His fists balled at his sides and Kasumi saw his face grow red. She didn’t know if it was traces of her anger feeding him, or if it was his own for finding out that he’d been duped. But whatever the source, it was strong enough to defeat whatever Theresa was surely pouring out into the room.

  Jason, on the other hand, was caught up in Theresa’s forced happiness, or elevation, or whatever the hell it was. “We’re here to help you, Theresa. Okay? Here to help.” He looked back to Kasumi, a question in his eyes.

  She sighed. Relented. “We’re getting you out of here, Theresa.” She tried not to sound like an irritated parent. “It’s not safe for you anymore.”

  A sniffle and a mumbled “I know” came from the girl.

  Jason stood, patted Theresa’s back once more and headed past Kasumi into the hall. He came back quickly.

  “We need to get moving,” he told them all. “I hear voices. Someone’s coming.”

  “Your car,” Kasumi said.

  “It’s out front. We’d have to get past all the cops again. Unless you can do … whatever it is you do?”

  Her anger had subsided to a deep thrum, pity quickly taking over. Pity for the Theresa, pity for Father Lance and his position in all this. She didn’t know if that pity would be effective for getting them out of here. Not for the first time she cursed herself for not training on being able to pull up random emotions to force onto people.

  She looked at Theresa and wondered if what the girl did, what emotion she forced on others, was even controllable. She was crying like a baby, but she was still sending out her elevating-vibes, strong enough to affect Jason. How could Theresa manage to make people happy when she herself was so pathetically broken and sad?

  Maybe people like Theresa, like Connor from The Ranch, maybe they didn’t have an off switch. Just one forced emotion, all the time, no matter what they currently felt. Kasumi didn’t have an off switch either, but her forced emotions were stuck to whatever she felt at that specific time.

  Briefly she wondered, Who has it worse? Kids like Theresa and Connor … Or me?

  Father Lance must have seen the doubt in her face. Maybe he thought it was a lack of confidence on her part on the whole being able to get them out of Saint Nicholas safely thing. She hadn’t really thought ahead on that part. Planning and running through scenarios was Dent’s specialty, not hers.

  “Jason,” Father Lance said, digging in his front pocket. “Are you okay to drive?”

  Both Jason and Kasumi stared blankly at Father Lance.

  Seeing no answer, the man went on saying, “Take my car. You know where it’s parked, right?”

  Jason hesitated. “Um … Out back, yeah.”

  “Good.”

  Kasumi, for lack of anything better to do, stepped out of Theresa’s room and ran down the hall. She took a quick peek around the corner of the stairs and saw four men dressed in dark clothing. Two of them were stationed at the base of the stairs while the other two were coming up.

  “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

  She ran back to the others. Thankfully, Theresa was up and had her shoes on.

  “We have to move,” Kasumi said. “Now.”

  They all looked her way.

  “There’re men coming up. Men who aren’t the police.”

  Taking the hint, they scrambled out of the room. Jason started to lead them down the hall. The way he was going, they would have to pass by the tops of the stairs, where the men in black were coming up.

  Kasumi tried stopping him. “We can’t go that way, Jason!” she warned him in a harsh whisper, afraid her voice would carry down the hall.

  He turned back an
d held up Father Lance’s car keys. “The way out is back this way.”

  Father Lance limped over to Jason, put a hand on his shoulder. “Go,” he said. “Get her, and her, out of here.”

  Kasumi sucked in a breath. The man had no idea who he was dealing with. She came up to him, saying, “Those men aren’t your friends, Father Lance. They’re not the police. Most likely they’re some sort of clean-up crew. They’re here to make sure word of Theresa and what’s been happening here doesn’t get out.”

  He put a gentle hand to her shoulder now. “I know what I’m doing.”

  “No. You really don’t!”

  She saw her panic take root in his eyes but this man, whatever drove him to do what he does, squeezed her shoulder and stood straight. “They have ruined my life’s work,” he said, though she had the feeling he wasn’t talking to her. “Made a farce of all the good that I and Saint Nicholas represent.”

  “They don’t mess around, Father!”

  Father Lance ignored her pleas. He looked to Jason, to Theresa. “They’ve messed around too much.” He pushed her roughly in Jason and Theresa’s direction. “Go!”

  Jason grabbed Kasumi by the shirt and, with Theresa at his side, took off at a run down the hall. Kasumi sucked in her breath as they passed the stairway. Wishing she didn’t look that way, she saw two startled heads track them as they ran by. One of the men in black immediately called out for them to stop.

  Jason pulled them forward. Kasumi picked up her pace.

  Behind them, Father Lance’s voice boomed, challenging the men, telling them they would go no further until they explained their presence in his house. Kasumi’s back itched with anticipation of being shot or tackled from behind and it took all she had not to turn around, even when the sounds of a heated argument from Father Lance and at least two men chased Kasumi and the others down the hallway.

  The three pushed on, never looking back.

  Through a door, down two separate sets of stairs, and out through the back, and no pursuit as of yet.

  Kasumi knew what that meant. Hoped she was wrong. Relief tried settling down on her, but she fought against it because she could only think of one thing that could have possibly held the men in black back for so long. Kasumi almost felt a tear break free.