I went on. “Your whole world has changed. Your dad moved out of the house.”
“He cheated on Mom,” she said.
When I only stared at her, she explained, “Casey told me. He said Dad likes to pay women to do things to him. He said Dad does drugs and is a terrible person.”
While I couldn’t contradict any of those statements, I felt irritated at Casey for sharing such lurid details with his little sister. I wondered how graphic Casey’s descriptions had been, then decided I didn’t want to know. “Your mom will keep you and your brother safe.”
“I hate Dad.”
“I understand.”
“Casey hates you even more.”
I stiffened.
“He doesn’t think you’re a good man. He says you’re worse than Dad.”
“Carolyn, that’s not—”
“He said the demon showed him what was inside people. He said he saw inside you, and you were thinking about Mom naked.”
I blanched.
“He said you wanted to touch Mom and do things to her. Casey said you’re pretending to be a good person, but you’re really not. He says you’re a fake priest. He says you…”
Carolyn went on in that vein, her words gushing out in a torrent. I’m not sure at what point the change began to come over me. All I know is that Carolyn’s words enkindled in me an anger unlike any I had experienced. Was it too much, I wanted to demand, for me to pursue Liz without everyone, even her nine-year-old daughter, standing in judgment? We could develop a relationship if everyone would just get out of our way. Because if it wasn’t Danny screwing things up, it was Ron. If it wasn’t Father Patterson judging me, it was Casey. And now, even this sniveling whelp of a girl was deigning to pass judgment on me too, the girl too young and stupid to fathom all I had been through, too ignorant of men and women to understand how happy Liz and I could be if everyone would just fucking leave us alone!
“Father Crowder?” she asked.
I froze, my breath coagulating in my chest.
My hands were reaching for her throat.
Gasping, I yanked them away and scrambled toward the opposite wall. I was shaking all over, an inexpressible horror grabbing hold of me. I glanced at Carolyn, who had risen, her eyes staring moons. Her gaze shifted to the doorway, a few feet to my left. She was plainly terrified and wanted to escape. I couldn’t blame her, and though I wanted desperately to reassure her, to demonstrate how harmless I was, I understood that such a demonstration would be impossible.
Moaning, I lurched toward the door.
Never in my life, not when I was being tortured by the demon, not when I was slashed from hip to hip by Danny Hartman, not even when I learned that I had killed an innocent man… never had I wanted to die more than I did as I fled that basement.
The only blessing was that neither Casey nor Liz saw me as I escaped up the stairs.
What use was I to the world if I could be manipulated to commit horrific crimes? I had joined the clergy out of a desire to do good. And that, I realized as I raced through the foyer and burst through the front door, was why Malephar had chosen me as his host.
It all came down to power. Control. The demon had possessed a helpless teenager and had wrought terrible deeds through Casey. Now the accursed entity was flexing his spiritual muscles, showing me that evil was the dominant power in the universe, that the devil could wield an instrument of God to inflict harm on others.
Whimpering with guilt and shame, I started my car and drove to St. Matthew’s, where Father Patterson had instructed me to meet him. Would he read the guilt in my face? Would he denounce me as the fraud I was?
Was Carolyn even now informing Liz of my near-violence?
I clung to a faint hope that Carolyn might have misread my homicidal lapse as a show of concern. My hands had rested as much on her shoulders as on her neck, and it was possible she was now reassuring herself that I had merely attempted to soothe her, albeit in a spectacularly awkward way.
But it was doubtful, I decided as I motored toward the cathedral. Far more likely, Liz was listening to her daughter’s story now, frowning and telling herself it couldn’t be true. The man who helped save Casey couldn’t have attempted to strangle Carolyn.
Would Liz suspect me of being possessed?
As central as it was, it was a question I hadn’t pondered. I made a left turn, shaking my head grimly and marveling at how events were spiraling out of control. I sensed that things were reaching a breaking point. I would either lose my sanity or, manipulated by the demon, commit some detestable crime. Or Liz would tell the police what I’d done, and I’d be arrested. I signaled a left turn and imagined Danny Hartman—with Tyler Raines in tow—arresting me for the assault on Carolyn. How dreadful the irony would be!
A sick lump in my throat, I parked opposite the cathedral. Climbing out, I spotted Father Patterson’s white Buick LeSabre sitting catty-cornered from me. The car seemed like something an older person would drive, but in his early fifties, I didn’t think Patterson qualified for senior citizenship. I strode to his car, endeavoring to appear as calm as possible. He rolled down the window, eyed me from his seat. “I thought the bubonic plague had died out.”
I mopped my brow, and my hand came away slick with cold sweat. I forced a smile. “Not enough sleep, I guess.”
“You’re green, Father Crowder. Like the inside of an avocado.”
I glanced at the cathedral. “Maybe I’m coming down with something.”
Patterson studied me. “Uh-huh.”
“Should I get in?”
“You didn’t happen to bring a breathing mask, did you?”
I mimed checking my pockets. “Sorry.”
He sighed, started his engine. “Climb in, then. I’ve got a feeling this is gonna be nasty work.”
Part Three
Requiem
Chapter Fifteen
Locating Danny and Raines wasn’t difficult. Their beat was near St. Matthew’s, and they’d been working nights. We found them only ten blocks from the cathedral and proceeded to tail them through the nearby neighborhoods.
Father Patterson and I talked little, our silences brooding and uneasy. After having unburdened himself to me earlier, I had wrongly believed he might feel more at ease with me, but the converse seemed true. Patterson was a strong, proud man, and perhaps he didn’t like the idea of someone knowing what was likely his darkest secret and the source of unimaginable emotional pain. I tried several times to lighten the mood by commenting on the Cubs and their prospects for the newly-begun baseball campaign, but after getting little response from Patterson, I asked him if he liked baseball at all.
“I’m a Sox fan,” he explained.
It figured.
We rode on in silence, pulling over when Danny’s cruiser stopped, hurrying to catch up when Danny drove on. The police car was an unmarked black Chevy, and though it was nondescript when compared to the cars with lights affixed to the roof, it was still noticeable enough to track with little trouble. Dusk approached.
Patterson broke the silence by saying, “Sister Rebecca thinks a lot of you.”
I searched his face for signs of irony or disapproval. Seeing neither, I said, “Sister Rebecca is an angel. We’re lucky to have her at St. Matthew’s.”
“You’re playing dumb.”
I hesitated. “She was patient with me the other day.”
“You mean when you impaled yourself with my letter opener?”
I stared out the side window. “She helped me when I needed it.”
“She claims she didn’t do much of anything for you. Said she’s never seen anyone heal that quickly.”
I didn’t answer.
“Neither have I,” he said.
I nodded. “It looks like they’re turning right.”
I sensed Patterson grinning at me. “Not gonna give up your secrets, huh?”
“I don’t have any.”
“We all have secrets, Jason.”
It hit me lik
e a smack in the face, those words. They were eerily like the ones uttered by Danny on the sidewalk in front of Father Sutherland’s house: We all have our secrets, Father. I’ll keep yours if you keep mine.
“I say something wrong?” Patterson asked. “You look like an avocado again.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Would you like to date Sister Rebecca?”
I sat up straighter. “You know that’s against the rules. The impropriety… I couldn’t possibly—”
“Maybe you’re too attached to Liz Hartman?”
This time I turned in my seat to stare at him. I expected this type of clairvoyance from the demon, but from Father Patterson… I had no idea how he could surmise such a thing.
He laughed. “You forget, we priests are perceptive.”
My heart was thumping, but I didn’t detect any malice in his face. I could never tell Patterson everything, but perhaps I could confide in him a little. After all he’d told me earlier that day, perhaps this sort of reciprocity was what he was seeking.
“Sister Rebecca is a breathtaking woman,” I said. “But as we both know, it would be unseemly for us to embark on a romantic relationship.”
Patterson’s grin broadened. “You sound like a Victorian romance.”
I scowled at him. “I’m just trying to be respectful.”
“Be real,” he answered. “It’s better.”
“Assuming she’s interested in me—”
“She’s interested. I could tell by the way she tended to you.”
I tried not to show how pleased I was.
“I bet she’s worried about the age difference, though,” he remarked. He goosed the accelerator to get us through a yellow light so we wouldn’t be separated from the cruiser.
“I’m not that much younger,” I said.
“She turned forty-six in February.”
I shrugged. “I’m more concerned with our vows.”
“Smart boy,” Patterson said. I flushed with pride. It was the closest thing to a compliment Patterson had given me. “But the one you really want is Liz Hartman,” he said. “That about right?”
I had no idea how he knew about my affinity for Liz, but after a moment’s debate, I concluded there was no reason to deny it. I didn’t believe Patterson intended to use the information against me, which demonstrated how far our relationship had come in the past several hours.
“Liz is an amazing person,” I said. And meant it.
He nodded, his eyes tracking the cruiser as it angled through another stoplight. Again, we made it through on yellow. “I’ve always liked Liz. Her husband, not so much.”
“I didn’t think Ron ever attended mass.”
“He doesn’t. I had an in-home visit with the Hartmans a month ago. They were going through a…” He made a face, appeared to debate.
I waited.
He flapped a hand in annoyance. “Oh, I don’t suppose it’ll hurt anything to tell you…”
“What happened?”
“I guess you’d say they had a family crisis.”
“This was unrelated to Casey?”
He shook his head. “Casey was alright. The little girl too.”
“Carolyn,” I supplied.
“The kids were fine, and Liz was okay, but she was worried about her brother-in-law.” He nodded at the cruiser we were following. “She said he was staying with them but wouldn’t tell me why. Said she needed me to intervene because of the way her husband was treating Danny.”
I listened, my mind racing. I knew Danny had been staying with Liz and Ron—Danny had been struggling with alcoholism and had holed up at his brother’s house in an attempt to dry out in a supportive atmosphere. I was convinced that Danny’s murderous rampage was the catalyst for the demonic visitation in the Hartmans’ home.
“The reason I’m telling you this,” he explained, “is that it might be germane to what’s happening with Tyler Raines.” The cruiser halted at a stoplight, and three cars behind, we did too. Patterson looked at me shrewdly. “What do you know about Danny Hartman?”
Immediately, I felt the warning tightness in my chest, as though Malephar were grasping my heart and preparing to crush it to a meaty pulp the moment I broke our agreement.
Taking care to choose every word carefully, I said, “I knew Danny had been staying with his brother’s family, and I knew about the drinking problem.”
Ass-licking maggot, Malephar hissed. But I knew the demon wouldn’t harm me. Though a diabolical, depraved being, he had thus far operated with an inexplicable species of honor, if such a word could be applied to one of Satan’s emissaries.
“I assumed you did,” Patterson answered. “I think the drinking was a poorly-kept secret, mostly because Ron told anyone who’d listen what a sad sack his kid brother was.”
“What happened at the family meeting?”
“Fireworks. Danny and Liz tried to be diplomatic, Ron not so much. I could tell he held religion in contempt. And though I don’t usually go hunting for racism, I’m pretty sure he disliked me because I’m black.”
“Wouldn’t surprise me.”
“Ron’s a loathsome person. I think he was cheating on Liz, and the fact that he’s moved out sort of backs that up, don’t you think?”
Careful not to let on I knew too much, I grunted noncommittally.
“Anyway,” Patterson went on, “when I left that night, I had a weird feeling. You know that sixth sense we priests sometimes get about people?”
I nodded, though recent events had called into question the accuracy of my own perceptions. I hadn’t a clue that Danny was the Sweet Sixteen Killer until he admitted it.
The light turned green, and we followed the cruiser through the business district, the brick row houses and lush spring foliage giving way to taller buildings and ubiquitous concrete.
Patterson laughed embarrassedly. “I don’t know, Crowder. It’s crazy, but I wondered then about Danny Hartman, and since you accused Raines earlier, I’ve been wondering even more.”
I ached to say something, but that clenching sensation around my heart was intensifying. Perhaps Malephar was ready to discard all vestiges of honorable behavior and kill me on the spot.
Patterson said, “Do you suppose Danny could have something to do with the murders?”
The fist squeezed my heart, knocking my wind out and doubling me over.
“Crowder?” Patterson asked, alarmed. “You okay? I can pull over—”
“Follow them,” I managed to croak.
“You sure? I can get you to a doctor…”
I gritted my teeth, gave a curt snap of the head. “Uh-uh. This is more important.”
And it was. The pain persisted for several minutes, but by degrees, it abated. In its place entered the memory of what had happened with Carolyn. Patterson asked me a couple times if I was all right, and physically I was. Yet I couldn’t get her frightened face out of my head, along with the self-loathing that came with being frail enough to be governed by the demon.
Patterson said, “Look.”
The cruiser had slowed to a crawl. It was moving apace with a pair of pedestrians. One, I saw, was a woman of forty-five or fifty. The other looked like her daughter, a tall girl whose pink skirt and black tank top were a bit too snug. Something about her gait seemed familiar. Her dishwater blond hair was cut to a boyish shortness, but I couldn’t see her face. The cruiser glided into a parking spot along the road, and thankfully, a space opened up just fifty feet behind them. Patterson parked there, and for a moment I mused on the peculiarity of the moment: We were watching Danny and Raines watch the mother and daughter. The women didn’t seem aware of the officers, and I was certain the cops weren’t cognizant of our presence.
“There they go,” Patterson murmured. “Come on.”
Indeed, the policemen were shutting their doors and merging with the milling pedestrians. As we climbed out, I noted that the women were perhaps twenty yards beyond the cops and moving at a leisurely clip. The
mother and daughter spoke little to each other, and the cops didn’t speak at all.
I didn’t like the feeling I was getting.
I knew the killers wouldn’t attack the daughter—who, upon further reflection, did appear about sixteen years old—with her mother in tow, but the fact that Danny and Raines were tailing the girl seemed too suggestive to be coincidence.
“Not too fast,” Patterson said under his breath.
I realized I’d sped up considerably. I didn’t know what would happen when we finally revealed ourselves to the policemen, but I knew I didn’t want that discovery to occur yet. Patterson seemed to know what he was doing, and I was placing my trust in him. Not unlike, I realized, the unconditional manner in which I’d placed my faith in Father Sutherland. Patterson didn’t exhibit the same affection for me that Sutherland had, but at least he didn’t seem to despise me anymore.
Or maybe he was just concealing it better.
“The Red Line,” he said.
Frowning, I followed his gaze and saw mother and daughter entering a canopied walkway. It led to the train called the Red Line. Father Sutherland and I had often taken it to Cubs games.
Danny and Raines followed.
“You bring your transit card?” Patterson asked, his strides lengthening to keep up with the cops.
“It doesn’t have any money on it.”
He gave a rueful shake of the head. “We don’t have time to stop at the teller. Pay me back tomorrow.”
I nodded, but at that moment, all thoughts of money fled. The mother and daughter had turned right to descend the staircase that emptied into the underground loading area. I realized why the daughter looked familiar. I also identified another face in the montage of nightmarish images I’d glimpsed when Malephar had seized Danny’s arm and I’d witnessed the Sweet Sixteen Killer’s gruesome thoughts, both of his past and future victims. I had seen Liz, whom I knew was still in danger. I had seen Julia Deveroux, whom Tyler Raines had disemboweled.
And I had glimpsed a voluptuous blond girl who wore too much mascara, a girl who’d seemed familiar to me even at the time.
Now I realized who she was.
As we pelted toward the train, Patterson said, “What’s on your mind, Crowder? You look spooked.”
Exorcist Falls Page 27
