“You made it!” Molly’s voice rang out. Her Mormon friend. She was happy to see him. “I suppose you’ll be wantin’ to meet him, so? Father Tim?” Molly called back to him. He turned around slowly to find — Doyle Murphy? Murphy returned Zach’s confused frown. That couldn’t be who Molly meant. Zach looked down at the short woman waiting in front of Murphy — and froze.
“This is Lucy Saint,” Molly finished.
He didn’t really hear her name through the rush of blood pounding in his ears. But he didn’t need the introduction — he’d know the woman standing across the table anywhere.
His little sister.
Lucy scraped her jaw off the floor. “Z —”
“Sweet sister Lucy!” Zach jumped in before she could finish his name in front of Molly — and Murphy.
“Actually, Father,” Molly interjected, “Lucy is the Mormon friend I’ve been tellin’ you about, and the teacher you’re meetin’ with on Monday.”
If he weren’t in a profound state of shock, he would’ve been relieved Molly’s Mormon friend wasn’t a guy. Instead, Zach was struggling to speak and act in a way that at least looked normal. “Of course. Since when do you live in Chicago, Luce?”
Was he so out of touch during his last case that he didn’t know his sister had moved a thousand miles from home and changed careers?
Still staring slack-jawed, Lucy hadn’t recovered yet — and he needed to make sure there was no mistake. “I guess even you should call me Father Tim now.”
“You two . . . know one another?” asked Paul — what the heck was the priest in training who’d come to him for advice doing here? He took a protective step closer to Lucy and looked uneasily from Zach to his sister. Zach could feel Molly giving him the same disconcerted gaze.
“Lucy and I go way, way back. Don’t we?”
Lucy filled her tone with sarcasm. “Oh, is that how you’d characterize it, ‘Father Tim’?”
“Didn’t I ever talk to you about joining the priesthood?” He glanced at Murphy. He didn’t seem to be paying attention, but it was impossible to tell with these guys.
“In all the discussions we’ve had about the priesthood, this was not what I pictured.”
Zach allowed himself a small laugh, which he hoped sounded casual. “Listen, I’d love to catch up, but we’ll have to talk later.”
“Now seems like a pretty good time to me.” She folded her arms across her chest.
He checked on Molly, who’d been silent far too long. She stared back at him, her lips set in a hard line. Zach turned to his sister and lowered his volume. “You’re holding up the queue, Luce.”
Lucy noted the children behind her clutching their tickets, patiently waiting for their candy and popcorn. Though she didn’t seem huffy or flouncy as she walked off, Zach recognized his sister’s sulky stalking. Paul trailed after her, bewildered eyes still wide.
But before Zach had time to think all that through — or give the long-suffering children their treats — another grown woman cut in front of Murphy. Zach shook his head and returned to finish with the popcorn.
“Hello, Father! Remember me? Emily?”
“Hi.” He glanced over his shoulder. Everything about the blonde screamed cheap, although her dyed hair and her skin-tight clothing had to be expensive.
“Thanks for inviting me. This is so fun!”
Had he invited her? Maybe — he’d only mentioned this activity to everyone in the parish. Emily turned on an artificial smile. “It’s so good to be back at church again,” she told Molly.
Zach watched Molly in his peripheral vision. Her expression softened almost imperceptibly — something only someone who knew her way too well could notice. “Well, welcome back.” She gestured at the now quite long line of children still waiting behind Emily. “If you’ll excuse —”
“Oh, dear, aren’t you cold?” With her supernatural ability for detecting a moral threat to a priest, Kathleen bustled over to cast a meaningful stare at Emily’s strapless shirt.
“No, I’m fine, thanks.”
“Excuse me,” Molly said firmly. “The children have been waitin’ patiently.”
Emily checked behind her and finally she understood. “You guys need any help?” She might have been addressing both of them, but her attention was fastened on Zach.
“We’re grand, thank you,” Molly answered for him.
Emily waited for Zach to respond. “Yep, we’re all set.”
Kathleen took Emily’s elbow to drag her away. “Have you met my son Teddy? I know he’d love to get to know you.” She was no less subtle than Emily.
“No, I haven’t met anybody but Father Tim.” She winked at him and finally allowed herself to be led off.
“Oh boy,” Zach muttered. Between Molly and Lucy, he really didn’t need yet another woman complicating this case. But he had little time to think about any of those women as he hurried to fill the children’s orders along with Doyle Murphy’s. Molly slipped out to restart the movie. The people in line quickly returned to their seats once the movie re-joined the flying car mid-plummet — and the mishaps of a pair of inept spies.
Zach settled into a folding chair behind the table, but he couldn’t focus on Chitty Chitty Bang Bang once he spotted Paul on the back row. Next to him, Lucy turned back to glare at Zach every few minutes. At least she had the sense not to confront him now.
What was she doing here? Last he heard, she was still living in Norfolk. Or was it Virginia Beach? Newport News?
They used to be close, but after practically his whole life became classified information, talking to his family had gotten harder and harder. When was the last time he’d spoken to Lucy? He’d definitely called for her birthday in February — eight months ago.
The third time she turned around, he smirked and waved at her, though he doubted she could see him in the dark. Okay, so maybe he wasn’t so good at keeping in touch anymore. But the FBI should’ve seen this. Hadn’t they checked the personnel files? What would he tell Lucy? And Sellars?
Of course, they also hadn’t seen fit to tell him Molly was a Guard —
What could he say to Molly about anything that happened tonight?
Zach rubbed his eyes. This was exactly what he needed. He’d have to explain this to Molly somehow — and tell Lucy enough to keep her quiet.
After the movie ended, Zach managed the final rush of concessions customers and made sure the cleanup was underway. He took care of the food, packing up candy bars and tying the extra popcorn bags shut. Molly was nowhere to be seen.
Lucy, unfortunately, was. Zach tried to escape to the projection room, but Lucy cornered him. “Hey, uh, ‘Father,’ we need to talk. Now.”
“Not now — I have to clean up, and I have early Mass tomorrow.”
Lucy lowered her voice. “I’m sure you want to ensure my full cooperation?”
Zach laughed, but shot pointed looks at Paul ten feet away, Father Fitzgerald and Cathal Healey walking into the cafeteria together — and Doyle Murphy approaching Molly. What could he want with her? Zach had to get over there. He glanced back at Lucy. “Don’t we have a meeting Monday?”
“I’ve been trying to meet with you for weeks.”
“Monday, then.” He kept his tone light — and his focus on Murphy looming over Molly.
“You better not slip out of this one, buster.” Lucy punctuated her warning with a poke to his chest. Paul bid him a hurried goodbye, affording Zach and his sister a second of privacy.
“Slippery,” Zach whispered, “and wise as serpents.” Lucy didn’t seem to get the quote from Matthew, but he slipped away from her without looking back.
Molly tried to keep her heart rate steady despite Doyle Murphy closing in on her. He didn’t know she’d discovered the datebook. He couldn’t. Would he ask for — no, demand — a meeting with Father Tim again?
“Hi, Molly.” He smiled as if contemplating the many ways he could have her killed. “I ta
ke it you’re the mastermind behind all this?”
She nodded slowly, hoping he meant the movie night, and not . . . well, nothing else made sense, but the fear threatening at the edges of her thoughts gave no heed to reason.
“Did you have something planned for the leftover food?”
Molly finally found her voice. “Em, no.”
“Could we take it down to the soup kitchen?”
“Sure now.” The vise around her rib cage disappeared once Doyle turned away. Before he could change his mind, Molly backtracked out of the cafeteria.
But as soon as she reached the stairwell back to the projection room, someone behind her grabbed her elbow. She gasped and jerked away from — “Tim?”
“What did he want?” His eyebrows knit together in concern before the stairwell door shut behind him, plunging them into shadows.
“Doyle?”
“Did he say something about . . . ?” He pointed in the direction of the office.
“Of course. He said —” She slipped into her best Chicago accent. “ — ‘Nice little shindig. By da way, if you say anything you’ll swim wid da fishes.’”
Tim ignored her joke. “I won’t let them hurt you.”
These people killed Jim Mulligan. They killed Gerald Flynn. They killed — no, even Doyle Murphy wouldn’t have killed Father Patrick. But how could Father Tim stop them? He stepped forward and Molly finally met his gaze again. His intense eyes searched hers — he had something to say.
The same mix of feelings from their last intimate moment washed over her, the cruel hope and the gnawing dread that exactly what she wanted was happening.
“I should explain about Lucy,” Tim said.
Why did he have to choose that topic? She folded her arms and tried to ignore a rising tide of jealousy. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me, Father.”
“I guess I don’t. But I will if you want me to.” The caution in his eyes now was the same guard he’d raised earlier when he’d spoken to Lucy.
She certainly didn’t want to confirm her suspicions. “Why should that matter to me?”
After a second of silence, Tim clamped his jaw, acknowledging her point with a curt nod, and walked back out the door, leaving her as weak-kneed as Doyle Murphy had, though for a far different reason.
Zach started off with a normal knock, but after being ignored a few times, he was pretty much pounding on Lucy’s apartment door. It’d taken him half an hour to hack into the school’s computers, find her address and walk here. She had to be done with Paul by now. Wasn’t like he’d be interrupting them making out or — or her telling him who Zach was.
“Come on, I know you’re home!” He banged on the door again.
“What do you want, Zach?” Lucy called through the door.
He immediately checked over his shoulders. No witnesses, but just to be safe . . . “It’s Father Tim.” He tried the knob. “Just let me in.”
Lucy still didn’t open up. “Are you alone?”
“What kind of question is that? You think I brought my friar friends?”
“What was I for Halloween in third grade?”
Zach threw up his hands. “Lucy, this is stupid.”
“If you were the real Zach, you’d know.”
“If you were the real Lucy, you’d know I don’t remember.” What had Lucy liked when she was little? “Were you Hello Kitty?”
Lucy groaned through the door. “No!”
“Maybe that was Tracey. Or was it your lunch box?”
“Try Barbie Princess Dream Castle.”
She was tormenting him on purpose. “Fine. Guess I’ll see you Monday.”
After another minute, she sighed. “Wait.” The deadbolt scraped and Lucy opened the door, but blocked him from entering. He didn’t really care — he hadn’t spoken to anyone in his family for months. But when he tried to hug her, Lucy pushed him away. “I don’t feel comfortable hugging a priest.”
Zach aimed a sarcastic smirk at her. He pulled out the plastic insert that formed the white square of his clerical collar and stuffed it in his pocket. “Better?”
“I guess.” Though she was obviously still mad, she gave him an awkward hug and finally let him in her apartment.
“Like I haven’t been a priest since I was sixteen.” Zach glanced around her place. Typical Lucy: open yet cozy, with tons of — did she have to have so many family photos on display? And if she was friends with Molly — “Has Molly been to your place before?”
“Why?”
Zach paced around the room, snatching up the framed photos of their family over the years. “Put these away and don’t get them out.”
“What’s your problem?” Lucy yanked the photos away. “You don’t want Molly to see what a dork you were in high school?”
He grabbed them back. “What do you think this is, a game?”
“You’re the one playing dress up.” Lucy stuck her hands on her hips like he owed her an explanation.
“Think about it.” This would be much easier if he only could tell his family he worked for the Bureau.
Lucy rocked onto one hip, her whole posture daring him to make her believe that one. “Are you pretending to be a spy or something? Give me a break.”
What was so incredible about that — especially since it was true?
“You really believe it, huh?” she choked out amid gales of laughter.
Zach resisted the urge to flash his gun or badge. He wasn’t about to lose his job over his obnoxious little sister’s teasing.
After a ridiculously long time, Lucy noticed that he hadn’t joined in her still-uproarious laughter. She stopped mid-hoot. “Wait — you’re serious? You’re not making this up?”
Apparently his cool demeanor about the situation wasn’t convincing enough. “No, I really do like pretending to be a priest. No one bugs me about when I’m getting married.” He shifted the photos in his hands and rolled his eyes.
Lucy fell back a step. “And you make money doing this?”
“It’s my job.”
“But I thought you worked for . . .” Realization flickered in her eyes. She finally got it. “Do Mom and Dad know?” Lucy’s voice was hushed.
Zach moved closer. “You can’t tell them — you can’t tell anybody.”
“Okay . . . wow.”
“Absolutely no one. Not a word.”
“’Kay.” Silence reigned while she contemplated the new reality of her brother — whom she apparently still thought was a first-class dork — as a top-secret government operative. “What are you doing as a priest impersonator?”
“I can’t say much — only that it’s an intelligence gathering assignment.” Kind of.
“Intelligence on the Catholic Church?”
He ignored the question. “Tell me you didn’t tell Paul.”
Lucy shook her head. “Is this why you never return my calls?”
“Usually. Sometimes I just don’t want to talk to you.”
She sank into the couch, ignoring his jibe. “Wow.”
That was all they would say on that topic — and not just because Lucy was thoroughly stunned. Zach changed the subject and settled on the couch next to her. “So when did you move to Chicago?”
“A headhunter recruited me a few weeks ago. Said he’d heard about my work in the outreach program.” Shock still filled her eyes. “Since when do you live here?”
“I’m still based out of D.C.” He set the family photos on the couch next to him. Awkward silence settled over them. “How’s the school?”
“Uh, good, I guess. Most of the kids hate me, I think.” She cringed. “At least some definitely do and the rest don’t care.”
Typical teenagers. “Still teaching math?”
“Yep, to the upper grades.”
Like any good brother, Zach reveled in the perverse joy of tormenting his sister. “Any of the kids you want me to talk to, put the fear of God into them?” he
joked.
“Uh . . .” Though they were — probably — safe inside her apartment, Lucy glanced over her shoulder. She was really thinking about it. “I don’t know who your people are, but maybe you could tell them something for me.”
He raised an eyebrow. “What?”
“Wait here.” She headed to the back for a few minutes of noisy rummaging, then returned and offered him a piece of paper.
Zach took the letter and read over it. You ask too many questions. Curiosity killed the cat. Keep quiet and this blows over, and then, a couple inches lower, You are being watched.
He jerked his gaze back up to her standing over him. What had she done?
“Actually, this is what I wanted to talk to Father — well, you — about. I think some of our students are involved with the mob. Or at least their fathers are.”
He hemmed noncommittally, disguising his surprise. “You watch too much TV. This is probably a student prank.” Come to think of it, that made more sense than Murphy getting bent out of shape over a math teacher giving his kid a college pep talk.
“No, really.” She wrung her hands, earnestness brimming in her wide brown eyes. “This one clique of kids at school has always been weird to me. They hate the idea of college, and their parents aren’t any help, either.”
Zach suppressed an impatient sigh. Lucy rambled when she was nervous — but did she really think there was some other reason for him to spy on this parish and school?
She pressed on. “Ian Murphy and Brandon Lonegan told me straight out they weren’t going to college, they were going to work in the family wholesale business. Then, the next day —” She broke off abruptly and reached for her ponytail.
“What, Luce?”
Lucy looked down. “I sent a note home to get their parents excited about college, show them how useful it would be in the wholesale business, I hoped. I got that on my car.” She pointed at the letter.
“Sounds like you should steer clear of those kids.”
“Gee, thanks, Zach, couldn’t figure that one out on my own. I was going to write back to invite them to tea.”
He mock-scowled. “Don’t think I forgot the Word of Wisdom.”
Saints & Spies Page 16
