Saints & Spies

by Jordan McCollum

  “What did you learn?” Zach found himself leaning forward, too, echoing Lonegan’s eagerness.

  Lonegan raised a hand like the sheer size of his understanding awed him. “I can’t even tell you. I know it. I don’t know why — I mean, I don’t understand it — but He’ll do it.”

  “And if Christ will do it, then —”

  “Then I can do it,” Lonegan interjected.

  Zach savored the pride of satisfaction. But was this too good to be true? “Exactly, Cally.” Out of habit, he shifted to check the side mirror — and found headlights behind them. Lonegan turned left and the headlights followed. “Hey, Cal, I think Father Fitzgerald has a meeting at the parish house tonight. Why don’t we go back to your place?”

  “You got it.” Lonegan drove past the church parking lot. The headlights stayed with them.

  “So, what helped you get it?” Zach hoped he didn’t sound too distracted.

  “Like you told me, Father — I listened to what He said.”

  “Sounds like you got a lot out of the Bible.”

  “Yep.” Lonegan took a right. The headlights were still on their tail.

  Zach stayed focused on the mirror. “Do you know what’s next?”

  “Already started. I was just talking to Doyle.”

  That could be bad. “What about?”

  “About getting out. I’m done. Finished. Free.”

  Zach eyed Lonegan, then glanced in the side mirror again, concentrating on the hood of the car behind them. Was it his imagination or was that maroon?

  Zach propped his ankle on his other knee to bring his holster within reach. They passed under a streetlight. Yep. The car following them was a maroon sedan.

  Lonegan really might be finished. They both might be.

  He pulled into his building’s parking lot. The maroon sedan pulled in behind them.

  In less than a minute, they were parked and getting out. Zach watched the sedan drive past. A coincidence, or had they had another near-run-in with Gallaher?

  Lonegan opened the back door to his car and fished out a fast food bag. “Lisa’ll jump all over me if I don’t toss this.”

  Zach waited at the car, and Lonegan headed to the Dumpster pen. They were forty feet apart when Zach saw the car round the middle row of the lot — a maroon sedan. Zach’s blood pressure inched higher. He started for the Dumpster, but his feet weren’t moving fast enough. “Cal!”

  “Yeah?” He turned around.

  The sedan began to slow, the driver searching the lot. Zach picked up his pace.

  Lonegan opened the Dumpster and tossed his trash in. The lid slammed shut, alerting the driver. The sedan sped up, closing the distance to Lonegan.

  “Get down!” Zach tried to run, but it suddenly seemed like the Dumpsters were a mile away, and he was trapped in a bad movie’s slow-motion. Yet Lonegan barely had time to look at him as Zach charged across the car’s path.

  In the corner of his vision, Zach saw it — a dark cylinder emerging from the back passenger window.

  “Gun!” At full speed, Zach tackled Lonegan. They hit the concrete; the first gunshot hit the Dumpster. The metallic echo was swallowed by a second shot. Zach could barely hear the engine gunning and wheels spinning as the assailants made their escape.

  “Cally, you okay?” Zach rolled off him and helped Lonegan sit up. His eyes wide, Lonegan nodded. He released a shuddering breath.

  “Let’s get inside before they try again.”

  Still in shock, Lonegan nodded again. Zach dragged him to his feet and pushed him into the building. What if another trap was waiting inside?

  No. Murphy couldn’t have had time to organize a backup plan. But Zach kept his hand free to draw his gun until he and Lonegan sank into Lonegan’s brown leather couches.

  “What was that about?” Zach huffed.

  A shaken Lonegan shook his head. “Maybe I shouldn’ta talked to Doyle.”

  “You and me both.”

  “Hm?”

  Zach glanced at him. How much could a mobster obviously on the outs know about that plot? “He came to see me, actually. About ‘business.’”

  Lonegan sighed heavily, and tugged at his frayed shirt cuffs. “So you know.”

  “Is this what you’ve been involved in? Extortion? Price gouging? And — the church?”

  “I shouldn’ta let them drag my kid in. He even liked Father Patrick.” He massaged his forehead like he could scrub away that memory. “We all did.”

  “What kind of ‘business’?”

  “Wholesale.”

  Zach suppressed a laugh. Not quite what he meant. “Are we talking organized crime?”

  Lonegan rubbed his face. “You see why I thought this’d be so hard?”

  “Yeah, I understand.” He waited for the other man to meet his gaze. “Are you sure you want out?”

  “Little late to rethink that.” Lonegan puffed out a sigh and looked to the ceiling. “What am I gonna do?”

  It was too good to be true — but Zach was willing to take that chance with the adrenaline still in his veins. He leaned in and kept his volume at a whisper. “I know people at the FBI.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If you’re getting out, don’t let Doyle and them get away with what they’ve done to you and Father Patrick.” Zach shifted closer on the couch. “Witness protection.”

  “But . . . we’d lose everything — our home, our friends — our family.”

  “Your friends and family are the ones making your son lie, the ones who just tried to kill you. And who knows what else they’re into?”

  In the silence, Lonegan fidgeted, tugging at the cushion corner. “I do,” he finally said.

  “Put them away, Cally. Save this parish.”

  “I don’t know.” Lonegan shifted, the leather couch crinkling beneath him.

  Zach contemplated his hands. He wasn’t supposed to let things get personal with Molly and Lucy — but with Lonegan, this was exactly why he’d befriended the guy. “Doyle’s going to say. . . I’ve been doing inappropriate stuff. Excommunicable stuff.”

  “Nobody’d buy that.”

  “And they would’ve bought it about Father Patrick? You know how Doyle operates. He’s got people ready to lie about it.” Zach sighed. “He’s even threatened to kill more innocent people — teachers at the school. You’re the only one that can stop this.”

  Lonegan’s gaze grew distant for a long moment. “Can they really keep us safe?”

  They’d do a better job than Zach had tonight. “They’ve never lost anyone following the program. I’ll call my friends. The Marshals might even be able to start the process tonight.”

  “That fast?”

  “Yep.” Normally it’d take days or weeks, but Zach had it on good authority that if Lonegan was sure about this, they’d extract him and his family at a moment’s notice.

  Lonegan nodded slowly. “All right. Make the call.”

  “Thank you, Cally. I’m pretty sure they’ll want to pick you up tonight. We’d better stay inside until they get here.”

  Lonegan skewered him with a sarcastic glare. “Think I learned my lesson.”

  Zach managed to rein in his satisfied smile until three hours later, when the Lonegans were in protective custody and Zach on his way home. He grabbed his burner cell and dialed Sellars’s office. Naturally, after eleven o’clock on a Monday night, the voicemail picked up.

  “Sellars,” he said, “mission accomplished.”

  The case was effectively finished — or it would be once they got Lonegan’s full statement in forty-eight hours. Zach only had two regrets: not officially closing Father Patrick’s murder, and . . . Molly.

  Zach was still trying to ignore the tug of regret the next afternoon. He ventured over to the school to make sure Lucy’s college activity hadn’t attracted any angry fans. He was sidetracked, however, by a Hispanic seminarian volunteering to read the Christmas stor
y for the talent show Friday night.

  “Ricardo,” called someone behind them. Zach and the seminarian turned to find Paul, flushed and frowning. Once he saw Zach, the crease between Paul’s eyebrows grew deeper, and his blush grew even darker.

  Paul took Ricardo by the shoulder. “Can we go?”

  “Of course.” Ricardo shook Zach’s hand and started to leave with Paul.

  “How did the thing with Lucy go?” Zach asked.

  Paul whirled around, his eyes wide. “What?”

  Zach pointed to the cafeteria door. “Lucy’s college fair thing?”

  “Oh.” He looked around like the linoleum tile held the answer. “Fine.”

  “Very well,” Ricardo commented. He subtly watched Paul, concern in the wrinkle of his brow.

  Paul met Zach’s eyes and opened his mouth to speak. But as soon as he started, Paul shook his head and turned away. “We’d better hurry. Don’t want to miss the bus.”

  Why was the kid so evasive today — and was it a coincidence he freaked out when Zach mentioned Lucy?

  He’d better find out. “It’s raining out there. Want a ride home?”

  “Thank you, Father.” Ricardo accepted without glancing at Paul.

  “I’ll see if Lucy’s ready to go.”

  “No!” Paul’s shout echoed in the hallway. Zach blinked, and Ricardo stepped back in stunned silence.

  “I mean.” Paul rubbed his neck. “She’ll probably be a while, and we have to get back to study.”

  Zach definitely wouldn’t let Paul get away now. “Wait here.” He hurried into the cafeteria. He scanned the thin crowd for his sister, but she was nowhere in sight.

  “What’s up, Father Tim?” DeWayne got up from the nearest table, jerking his chin in greeting. “Been looking for you.”

  “Sorry, can’t talk. Have you seen Miss Saint?”

  DeWayne nodded toward the stage at the end of the room. Zach found Lucy behind the black curtain, sitting on the floor, crying. He dropped to one knee next to her. “What happened?”

  Her head jerked up, and she tried to scrub the tears from her cheeks. “I — Paul —” She buried her face in her hands.

  What had he done? Zach wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “Should I shoot him?”

  “No. Unless it’s to put him out of his misery. And you shoot me first.”

  “Should I go get Molly?”

  “I —” She took a deep, ragged breath. “I just want to be alone.”

  He nodded. “I know this isn’t a great time, but can I borrow your car?”

  Lucy narrowed her puffy eyes in incredulity. “You’re unbelievable.” But she waved a hand at a canvas bag on a desk by the curtain. He found her keys and headed back to the hallway.

  “I’m sure Father Tim is too busy,” Paul was saying as Zach arrived.

  “Nope,” Zach said, coming up from behind. “I caught a terrible cold running around in the rain. I’d hate to see you two getting sick before the talent show.” He winced at his tone, false and bright. He’d rather give the kid the third degree until he admitted what he’d done to Lucy.

  Zach held up the keys. “Lucy loaned me her car.”

  Paul’s eyes grew wide again. “Is she okay? Did she say anything?”

  “She was kinda busy.” Zach opened the door for them.

  Paul led the way, trudging to Lucy’s gold car like the condemned approaching the guillotine. He reached for the passenger door, then thought better of it and got in the backseat. Ricardo took over as navigator. Zach monitored Paul’s sulking slump in the rearview the whole ride to the seminary.

  Zach parked by the brick dorm and exchanged a glance with Ricardo. Zach pointed at himself and Paul, to signal he’d try to talk to him. Well, his real goal was to try not to shoot him, but whatever Ricardo got from the gesture was close enough. He made an excuse about Latin homework and hurried off, leaving Zach and Paul in the parking lot.

  “Everything okay?” Zach asked.

  “Finals are next week. I’m sure he wants to study.” Paul shrugged.

  Zach laughed a little. “I meant with you. You’re acting weird. Nothing to do with Lucy?”

  Paul pondered the asphalt for a long moment. “Did you ever do something you couldn’t undo — something so terrible there was no taking it back?”

  Something terrible he’d done to his baby sister. Zach set his jaw, but his pulse still pounded. “What?” he demanded, his voice tight. Was Paul being dramatic, or was this way more serious than he’d realized?

  “You wouldn’t understand. Even I don’t understand how we could do this.” Paul sighed and turned away.

  Zach grabbed his shoulder. “If you hurt Lucy,” he said through clenched teeth, “I swear, I’ll —” Paul met his gaze. The raw pain in the younger man’s face stopped Zach short.

  “I know. But I’ll probably beat you to the punch.” Paul backed away, and Zach let him go.

  But what had he done to Lucy? First regrets, and now this? Did everything have to fall apart?

  Zach was set to corner Lucy in the hallway and force her to tell the full story, but he’d only handed her keys back when Cathal Healey approached them. “Hey, Father. Got a minute?”

  Zach didn’t bother hiding his groan. Did Healey know who he was? Lucy, her eyes still red and puffy, took the opportunity to duck back into the cafeteria. Zach signaled for Healey to follow him to the parish house. Once the other agent was inside, Zach shut the door and locked it. “I’ve got to hand it to you,” Healey started.

  Zach held up a finger to silence him. “Bruce?” he called. No answer. “Hand what to me?”

  “I thought you two had to be totally oblivious to let this kind of stuff happen in your parish.”

  “Oh yeah?” So he didn’t know who Zach really was. He did his best to bite back a triumphant smile and leaned against the door.

  Healey shook his head. “How’d you get Lonegan to come in?”

  “I only suggested it, really. He was ready to come clean.”

  “Bringing down Doyle Murphy’s crew,” said the other agent. “Bet you’re relieved.”

  Zach raised an eyebrow.

  “I mean, now you won’t end up like that last priest. I mean, assuming that’s what actually happened. Didn’t come up in Lonegan’s preliminary interview.”

  Something twisted in Zach’s gut.

  After Flynn died, Lisa said Lonegan’s change of heart had to do with Father Patrick. Could Cally Lonegan have held back something about Father Patrick’s death? Zach had no idea. It had never come up again. Father Patrick’s murder might never be officially solved now.

  “Well, good job, Father.” Healey stepped forward and offered a hand.

  Zach opened the door and shook Healey’s hand. He waited until Healey was on the doorstep before leaning closer. “Oh, and Special Agent Healey? The ‘t’ in Cathal is silent — and you should invest in a gun belt.”

  Healey whirled around, his eyes wide. “What are you —?”

  He shut the door on Healey’s denial. Zach knelt on the couch to peer through the lace curtains. Healey stared down at the scratches on his belt, frowning.

  Zach waited for Healey to shuffle off. As soon as the coast was clear, he could go track Lucy down. His gaze gravitated to where he’d parked her gold sedan — gone.

  He sighed and sank into the couch. He’d call her, but ten bucks said she wouldn’t answer. But that might not be his biggest problem. If Healey was right, somehow he’d forgotten the whole reason he’d been able to come to the parish.

  Maybe it’d all come out in Lonegan’s formal statements. Zach was supposed to stay in the parish until they made all the arrests; he’d have a few more days to figure it out. And maybe he’d get a chance to bid Molly a proper goodbye.

  But even that thought couldn’t take the edge off the anxiety eating at his gut in earnest.

  The elevator doors slid open, revealing her floor. Molly’s rib c
age constricted. Everyone in the building knew the whole Lonegan family had disappeared. Hardly seemed like a coincidence after what Molly had done for the FBI.

  Did her neighbors know about her role?

  She started down the corridor, fixedly staring past the mobsters’ doors. Just as she reached her flat, a door swung open. Molly raked through her handbag. Where were her keys?

  Footsteps padded over the carpet. In her peripheral vision, Molly glimpsed a shadowy figure approaching. She seized her keys, but they slid from her clammy palms.

  “Molly?”

  She jumped. Her handbag tumbled to the ground.

  “Uh . . . hi?”

  She knew that voice. Molly finally dared to check. Father Tim stooped to pick up her keys and handbag, raising a half-mocking eyebrow. “You okay?”

  “I am, only a bit —”

  A deadbolt down the hall scraped open. Molly snatched the keys, jammed the right one in her lock and pulled Tim inside.

  “I know it’s none of my business,” Father Tim said once the door closed, “but you might want to consider moving.”

  Molly gave half a laugh. Already done, but Tim didn’t know that. “Give me a raise so I can afford rent in the area or the commute.”

  “Done.”

  “Can I get that in writing?” she joked. “What brings you by?”

  Tim frowned solemnly. “Jay Gallaher was arrested tonight. Kim’s mom called us.”

  One knot around her heart loosened. She wasn’t happy because his family was upset — but she certainly felt safer.

  If the arrests had begun, she wasn’t the only one who was safe. Tim didn’t need her protection anymore. Perhaps this was the last thing holding her back, and now she could finally believe.

  But even if she believed, could she really leave her family’s church, leave Tim?

  She flinched at her own thoughts. Was she really hesitating because of her futile, futureless feelings for him?

  “You okay, Moll?” He peered at her in concern, as if he sensed her thoughts.

  Molly nodded. “I’ve just been thinkin’.”