Gravewriter
Page 24
“I haven’t slept in a week,” the priest admitted. His eyes were translucent blue, like Bo’s eyes. “I was so worried—I can’t let you kill him, Billy.”
A smile spread over Billy’s face. “You figured out what trial I was on and tracked me down to my house.” He pointed at the padre. “You broke your vow of the confessional! You acted on something I said in the booth.”
“Shhhh!”
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Not if I can help it,” the priest said. He hiked up his pants. Tears gathered in his eyes. “Now are you going to get in the car, or must I rough you up some more?”
Billy stared at him. The priest sank into a wrestler’s crouch. He was ready to fight for Billy’s soul—to fight until they both were bloody. He had been stalking Billy, watching him, making sure he went nowhere near Maddox.
Billy was awed.
He fell to the ground, hugged the priest around the knees, and let a tear drip.
“I’m not here to kill him, Father,” Billy confessed. “I was wrong—a friend found the proof.”
“What? But then—the officer wasn’t drunk in the crash?”
“Who knows?” Billy said. “The cops didn’t test Maddox that night because he wasn’t driving.” He sighed. “Angie was.”
“Oh, dear Jesus.”
“Maddox persuaded his buddies to help him take the rap, as the driver who had screwed up. That’s why the police report was rewritten.”
Father Capricchio patted Billy’s head. “He sacrificed his own reputation to save hers.”
The priest held Billy a minute, then pushed him roughly away. He put his hands on his wide hips. “Then why the heck are you here?”
“My boy wants his mom’s cat,” Billy said. “Maddox has it.”
“Are you here to steal it?”
“I’m here to ask for it,” Billy said. “If he says no, then I steal.” He grinned.
The priest picked up his cap, punched it back into shape, and snapped it over his head. “Tell me about it tonight—in confession.”