“The thing is,” Casey began, his gaze far along the snow cave, “I… I think about my life here often, and how different it might be if… if you, maybe some of the others, weren’t here anymore. I guess that’s why I resented JC. I was afraid he might snatch my family.” He stared at Sebastian. “You’re my family. I never really had much of one other than you.”
“We love each other here like brothers,” Sebastian said, shifting his eyes from Casey’s earnest gaze to the icicles hanging from the spruce trees. An image of Casey naked in the shower flashed across his mind. He shook his head. “That won’t stop, no matter what.” When Casey remained silent and brooding, Sebastian lowered his sunglasses and said, “We better head back. It’s getting near the afternoon work period.”
Red faced, Casey moved toward the abbey, and Sebastian and Delores followed tight behind him. Snow crunched under their heavy snowshoes and fell in between the tree branches in a shower of diamonds. Silent save for their heavy breathing, they focused on the path ahead. They stopped once outside the snow tunnel to catch their breaths.
Distant, steady rumbling pulled Sebastian from his persistent meditations. Casey glanced up, and Delores lifted her snout, testing the air with her mouth partly open. She barked when two bright specks grew closer among the maze of trees, along with the roar of engines.
Two men on snowmobiles came to a stop a few yards from their feet. Sebastian recognized their parkas as belonging to the forest service, although their faces were unfamiliar. Heat from their engines distorted the landscape around them. “Hi there,” one of the rangers said above the din of idling engines. “How goes things up here?”
“Hello there,” Sebastian said, grinning nervously in return. “What a sight you are. We haven’t seen a stranger since—” He halted, realizing the first lie perched on his tongue “—since for a while.”
“We were taking advantage of the break in the storms and thought we’d stop up here and see how everything’s going with you fellows.”
“Did you have a chance to stop at the abbey?”
“We were about to, but noticed your fresh snowshoe tracks and followed them instead. Winter treating you all right?”
“It’s been fine.” Sebastian held back Delores from getting too gregarious with the rangers. “Any exciting news?”
“Been a quiet winter thus far, if you don’t include the storms,” the second ranger said, lifting his goggles above his blue eyes, which sparkled against the white landscape.
“Sure has been a lot of snow,” Sebastian said. “A beautiful day today, though. Nice change. How far in you headed?”
“This is the end of the line for us,” the first ranger said, glancing over his shoulder. “We’ll need every ounce of octane we got left to make it back into Silverton.”
“We can give you some gasoline if you need. You can stop in at the abbey for some hot cocoa while you refuel.”
“No thank you, Brother. We should head back right away if we’re to beat out that snowstorm coming in from the west. We’ll have plenty of fuel for the trip back. We just wanted to make sure you’re doing well up here. Don’t stay out too long.”
“Thanks for stopping by. Come back and see us when spring arrives.”
“We’ll do that. Good day, Brothers.”
“Good day.”
In the silence left in the wake of their growling engines, Sebastian stared at the snowmobiles disappearing into the outlying trees, and sighed. Two shrinking plumes of snow coalescing into a single point of light. He’d worried the rangers might mention a missing man fitting JC’s description and ask if they’d seen him. He was relieved when they hadn’t.
The quiet that lingered hobbled Sebastian. He sensed Casey studying him. Why hadn’t Sebastian said anything to the forest rangers? Why hadn’t either of them shouted they needed help? Told them that the winter hadn’t treated them kindly, that it had held them captive, like Father Paolo, who pointed a figurative gun at each of the brother’s heads. Why hadn’t he screamed for them to call in the state police?
Yet Sebastian had resisted giving away what was stowed in the barn, not too far from the fuel he’d offered to the rangers. His breathing had relaxed when they had declined his offer. With the scent of unleaded gasoline lingering in the cold air, Sebastian realized that Father Paolo’s stubborn refusal to notify authorities had ceased bothering him many days before. At this stage of the game, Sebastian wanted to discover the truth of JC’s murder on his own, without the snooping of outsiders.
His stubborn pride made him cringe with shame, and he worried Casey disapproved of his inaction. Still, a shivering anticipation, the same sensation he’d experienced while hard on a case back in Philadelphia, delighted him.
Reluctantly, he looked Casey’s way. His mouth was tense, but a sparkle lingered in his brown eyes. Casey had followed Sebastian’s lead in keeping his mouth shut. Perhaps Sebastian’s word meant more to him than Father Paolo’s. He cherished that idea as they retraced their tracks to the abbey.
Chapter Seventeen
AS THE forest rangers earlier in the day had predicted, a fresh snowstorm blew over Mt. Ouray that night. It fell heavy and wet, beating downward on the already hoary landscape, splashing against Casey’s cell window. In the darkest hour of morning he lay supine in bed, allowing the blizzard to underline his thoughts about his snowshoeing adventure with Sebastian.
Sebastian’s refusal to tell the rangers about JC hadn’t disturbed him as much as he’d have expected. He’d understood his covertness, in a way. They were ordered to keep their mouths shut. Yet Casey sensed Sebastian might have refrained from divulging the truth even without the father’s stern instructions.
Detective Harkin. Strong and purposeful, unburdened by indecisiveness. That was Sebastian’s way. He smiled. They had shared a moment together. More tender and intimate than when they’d ogled each other in the shower stalls. Another sturdy pillar had been erected to fortify their communion. Casey had known the moment Sebastian had asked him to hike with him and Delores.
He stared at the dark ceiling, quivering. Good feelings had evaded him for quite some time. Lingering doubts he’d had about his vocation seemed sucked under the doorframe and carried away by the abbey currents. No need for a physical interlude. They had each other. Extraordinary brothers. For the rest of their lives.
And that’s all that mattered for now.
He sat upright. Someone lurked outside his door. He recognized the same rustling from a few minutes before. It wasn’t coming from the storm outside, he was certain. This time he refused to disregard it.
He tiptoed to the door and cracked it open. Faint light from the subdued corridor lights cut into his eyes. He waited, listening. He opened the door wider and peered around. A wispy breeze brushed his cheeks, followed by the flash of a shadow from his side vision. The hushed slap of bare feet on the terracotta tiles receded farther into the abbey. Someone was hurrying away. And whoever it was had intentionally left off his sandals so no one would hear his prowling about.
Casey slipped on his sandals and stepped into the corridor. Should he awaken the others, see which one among them went missing? It was past midnight. Let them sleep. He’d find whoever skulked in the abbey late at night.
Careful to avoid making any noise, he followed after the shadow. Several paces down the corridor, near the cloister garden, he perceived murky movement out of the corner of his eye. An outline fluctuated. Was it the radiators causing heat distortion? A subtle bending of nothing?
Like a feline, he tiptoed toward it. Another sound behind him jerked him around. Near the kitchen. More slapping of feet on the tiles. Then silence. He stopped, waited for the shadow’s next move. Creepiness kneaded its way over Casey’s body. Footsteps again. Quieter. Casey inched to the sound’s location.
Someone shut a door. Casey slinked to the kitchen. He peered inside, vigilant in case the shadow might be waiting to jump him. Conjuring more courage, he stepped fully into the kitchen and looked a
round. Nothing but the glint of stainless steel and the leftover aroma of baked bread.
A few feet from the kitchen entrance was another door that led to the generator and incinerator. He scurried back to the corridor, placed his ear to the cold door and listened. He began to open the door, but froze. The hinges screeched. An echoing explosion wrapped in silence. The shadow couldn’t have gone in there. Casey would have heard the same eerie, high-pitched sound. Had the shadow taken the service elevator? No, that was even noisier.
Slowly, he shut the door and peered over his shoulder. Worried his sleepy eyes might be playing tricks on him, he followed what he guessed was movement coming from near the sacristy. With less conviction, he slumped along the wall, holding his hands before him should he need them in self-defense.
“The Dalakis Curse.” He shook the image of ghosts and goblins from his head. They didn’t exist. Couldn’t exist. No matter how sick and twisted the past owners had behaved, summoning demons onto their turf for some diabolical summit, God did not permit earthly hauntings. “Man is destined to die once, and after that face judgment,” Scripture stated. He hoped recalling the passage might calm him, but he also remembered Apostle Mark, who warned of the “unclean spirits” that dwelt side by side with man.
The looming slap of bare feet further curdled his blood. The sound moved closer, to his right, his left, receded. A long shadow slid across the corridor, blocking his path. Growing longer as Casey stared in alarm. The game had changed. The shadow no longer wanted to avoid Casey, but sought to reach him. In a switch, Casey had become the prey.
His increased heart rate sounded like a dozen drums thumping inside his head. He paid scant attention to the mouse scurrying across the corridor for the kitchen, and he slipped inside the sacristy and shut the door.
Shaking, he listened for any rustling in the corridor. Everything went silent. The windowless storage room kept out the ruckus from the blizzard. Gloomy shadows prowled in every corner. Smells of dust and musk hung heavy. Casey detected the scent of Sebastian, who’d spent many winter hours in the sacristy crafting rosaries. That same hard-worked odor he’d relished his first day as a retreatant last summer. The whiff of honest labor that had rushed to meet Casey’s nose when Sebastian had escorted him to the cottage house.
The faint light under the door dimmed. Someone was standing on the other side. Was the stalker whispering for him to come out? The knob jittered. This was no work of his imagination. Casey flinched backward. He ducked lower behind a column of boxes and inhaled more of Sebastian’s scent for strength.
Millimeter by millimeter, the door creaked open. Abruptly, it shut. Light under the doorway brightened. Bare feet slapped recklessly against the floor, fading farther into the abbey.
Casey exhaled and brought his hands to his sides to keep himself from gnawing on his knuckles. He waited for his heart to stop beating in his ears before he had the nerve to open the door.
Delores stood outside, wagging her tail and panting. Casey patted her head. “Good job, girl,” he whispered. “You scared off the stalker.” And he traipsed back to his cell.
Cocooned in bed, he wished Father Paolo permitted locks on the cell doors. Not until that moment had Casey feared for his well-being inside Mt. Ouray.
BY NEXT morning, Casey had shaken off the prowler. He took comfort in Sebastian’s being close by. Though they could not speak around the other brothers, a smile or nod from him while passing each other in the corridors or the canonical hours reassured Casey.
Father Paolo had not requested Casey work in the administrative office in more than two weeks. Casey suspected his banishment had something to do with his snooping on the “off-limits” computer. He spent most of his subsequent work periods sweeping and scrubbing the corridors or helping Brother Micah in the kitchen.
He was washing the breakfast bins for his morning work assignment when he slapped the soapy water in a sudden revelation. Brother Micah, cutting open a box of frozen onions for tomato soup, pivoted his shoulders to gape at him. Casey minded him little.
He finished the dishwashing as quickly as possible, then excused himself to sweep the corridors. He spent most of his time outside the sacristy, moving the broom near the same spot where he’d run to hide from the stalker the night before, while waiting for Sebastian to open the door and appear.
Nearing Sext, the door swung open and Sebastian and Brother Eusebius stepped out. Sebastian smiled at him, and his eyes asked, “What are you doing?”
Casey fluttered his eyelids in response.
They waited another hour for siesta to begin before they could convene alone in private. Casey found Sebastian reading in the library.
Sebastian closed the book (Casey noticed the author on the spine, Conrad Baars) and slid it aside. “What has you so excited?” Sebastian whispered with a grin.
“I was thinking, and it just came to me. Before… before JC died, I had a short conversation with him in the kitchen. He mentioned something about Puerto Rico, about how he wished he was there, about liking the warmer weather. He used a lot of unusual Spanish slang. At the time I didn’t think much of it, but now I’m wondering. Do you think he’s from there?”
“Might be. Certainly looked Puerto Rican. And he did use a lot of slang.”
“He also mentioned his age to be twenty-one. Does that mean JC might have lied about his amnesia?”
“Not really. From what I know, and from what Brother Jerome has told us, you can remember bits and pieces without knowing why.”
“Even he had said that. Makes sense, I guess.”
“About the only thing.”
Casey gazed out the window, where the slim sun rays cut through the gray clouds and shrouded the forest in a hazy yellow mist. He still cursed himself for wasting prime investigative time during his access to the administrative office. He figured the abbot or Brother Hubert had conducted research of his own, but neither was likely to share whatever information he’d learned. Casey wanted to state his suspicions about why the abbot would want to keep them in the dark, but he didn’t want to come across as sour. He had never told Sebastian about the cached porn sites he’d found on the computer either. What difference did it make to their investigation?
He also balked at mentioning the overnight stalking. Sebastian might call him off the case if he worried for his safety. For now, the investigation operated as a glue to hold them together. United for a singular cause.
Casey mirrored Sebastian’s warm smile and placed his hand alongside his on the tabletop. With all his might, Casey tried to will him to toss caution aside and grasp his hand. Why not? Theirs was a religious order based on affection and kindness. Fidelity was of the utmost importance.
“Will any of this be useful helping us find the killer?” he asked.
Sebastian cast his blue eyes to his lap.
“What is it, Sebastian?”
“Father Paolo asked me to stop the investigation. Flat out. Once and for all. But I disagreed with him, I’m afraid. I can’t see how we can ignore any of this. Someone will find out sooner or later.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I said I understood his position but that I would most likely continue to explore possibilities into his death.”
“Was he too upset?”
“We left on amicable terms. We’ll see.” Sebastian stood with a dull skid of his chair. “We best get ready for work. We’ll chat later. In the meantime, though, Casey, why don’t you back off yourself? I don’t want you getting into a mess either.”
“As long as you’re on the case, I’m on the case.”
Sebastian chuckled. “Just stay out of trouble. I’ll see you at dinner.”
Half an hour later, Casey was ready to help Brother Rodel clean the radiators when Brother Lucien tugged on his sleeve and insisted Father Paolo wished to speak with him. Bewildered, Casey left his scrub brush behind and followed Brother Lucien to Father Paolo’s private office.
The father was standing by the r
ound table before the lifeless fireplace, sorting through papers. Brother Lucien bowed out of the office, and with a wide grin, Father Paolo approached Casey.
Casey’s legs trembled. He hadn’t been called before the abbot alone since he’d first entered the abbey as a postulant and he’d tried to seduce him with wine and chocolates and flickering candles.
This time, no wine or chocolates sat on display, and no candles illuminated the office.
The abbot stood in front of his desk, his hands folded behind his back. His tunic rustled against his ears as he moved to scratch his neck. Casey scrutinized his expressionless face. The glint in his glasses concealed his eyes. No way to judge his intentions.
Finally, the abbot leaned against his desk and locked his hands across his scapular skirt. After Casey obeyed his offer to sit, Father Paolo remained standing.
Casey gripped the armrests of the Bergère chair and tried to ignore the juniper-laced air that stung his eyes. He focused on the father’s woven fingers, short and fat with veins pumping thick blood. Was he finally going to receive the lecture he’d feared for invading the off-limits computer? Did it have to do with his running about the abbey late at night? Or something worse?
Father Paolo peered at Casey above his wire-framed eyeglasses. Moistened lips glistened against the sole illuminated lamp. “Brother Casey,” he finally spoke, “I have news for you. You might dislike what I have to say, but I beseech you, remember the words of St. Benedict. ‘Carry out the superior’s order as promptly as if the command came from God himself.’”
Casey exhaled. “What… what is it?”
He barely heard Father Paolo’s response, spoken toward the ceiling as if Casey weren’t even in the room. The abbot’s Portuguese accent blurred with the drumming in his ears. Listening to the father, he blinked back the hot tears accumulating in the corners of his eyes and barely breathed. Casey wanted to shield himself, as if the abbot had chucked his words at him like ice-glazed snowballs.
The Rule of Sebastian Page 18
