Jane looked around, almost-empty bottle in hand, took off her lab coat and draped it on the chair, walked to the door and turned off the lights.
The thought came to her fleetingly. She realized it wasn't the first time. What was the relationship between Mac and Stella? All business? Friends? Something more? It really wasn't Jane's business and normally she saved her curiosity for the secrets the microscopic strands of DNA could reveal. Each day she learned something new. Some days she discovered something new.
Mac's office was dark. She didn't look at it as she headed for the elevator, deciding that she was more hungry than she was tired. Whatever was in the refrigerator or pantry would have to do.
"Find 'em," said Mac.
There was enough light from the street lamps and the almost-full moon for Mac and Rufus to make their way up the stairs, past the room where the Vorhees massacre had taken place, and into the room of Jacob Vorhees, where Mac took separate pieces of cloth from two evidence bags. He placed the first piece of cloth in front of Rufus, who smelled it and began to move around the room. He picked up Jacob Vorhees' scent almost everywhere. Then Mac placed the second piece of cloth in front of Rufus, who turned, bent his head to the floor and immediately moved to the partially opened closet door. Mac followed, paper bag in hand. Mac pushed the door open and reached up to pull the chain that turned on the hundred-watt bulb in the ceiling.
Mac took out his flashlight and pointed it upward.
"Jacob," he said. "My name is Mac Taylor. I'm with the police."
No response.
"You must be hungry. I've brought sandwiches, an egg salad, a tuna salad and a chicken salad. Choice is yours."
Still no response.
Mac looked at Rufus, who continued to look up at the ceiling inside the closet.
"We'll wait here till you make up your mind," said Mac. "But I don't see that you have much of a choice."
It took about two minutes. Mac was sitting on the bed when he heard the sliding sound. He moved to the closet and looked up. A wooden panel was moving, revealing darkness behind it and then the face of Jacob Vorhees. The face was dirty. A red bump stood out on his left cheek. His thick glasses were smudged.
The boy looked down at Rufus and Mac and saw something reassuring in Mac's face. The space in the ceiling was small, but there was enough room for the boy to ease his way through it, put a hand on the hanger rod and drop gently to the floor.
"Show me your badge?" said Jacob.
Mac removed it from his pocket and held it up. In his years on the job three people had actually examined the badge. Jacob Vorhees was the fourth. When he was reasonably satisfied, the boy nodded and Mac put the badge away.
Jacob was wearing faded blue jeans, a pair of Nike shoes with no socks, and a loose-fitting blue T-shirt that needed cleaning. His arms, neck and face were spotted with red bumps. Jacob knew what Mac was looking at and said, "Bugs up there. Lots of them. I kept killing them but they kept coming. Rats too, but they didn't bite, just ran past me or even over me."
Rufus moved next to the boy and rubbed against his leg. Jacob looked at Mac for permission. Mac nodded and the boy reached down to pet the dog and said, "Bloodhound."
"His name is Rufus," said Mac. "Let's go down to the kitchen and have a sandwich."
When they got to the kitchen and Mac turned on the light, Jacob said, "Tuna."
"Tuna," Mac repeated, removing a wrapped sandwich from the bag he was carrying. He handed it to Jacob.
They sat at the table. Mac took the chicken salad, unwrapped it, removed the top slice of bread before putting it on the floor for Rufus, who was waiting patiently.
"Some of those sores on your arms and neck are infected," said Mac. "We'll stop at the hospital on the way back."
"Am I going to prison?" asked Jacob, before taking a bite of sandwich.
"Tell me what happened," said Mac.
Jacob understood. He finished the mouthful of sandwich, adjusted his glasses, looked up and began.
Joshua walked down the dark street, passing a few people, determined. He came to the steps of St. Martine's, went up and tried to open the door. It was locked. On the wall to the left of the door was a button. Joshua pushed it. Nothing. He pushed it again and kept pushing till someone inside opened the door.
Father Wosak was in sweatpants and a Fordham T-shirt. He wore sandals.
"I want to talk," said Joshua.
The priest saw the clenched fists, the tight jaw of his visitor and stepped back to let him in. Then the priest closed the door.
There were a few dim lights, enough to see by, enough to walk down the aisle toward the altar, where a crucified Christ was illuminated by a small yellow light at his feet. Joshua moved quickly, the priest following him.
Joshua stepped up on the low platform, disappeared for an instant behind the statue and found the tote bag just where he had been told it would be. He unzipped the bag, reached in, came up with a sharpened iron bolt, put it back, came up with a heavy-headed hammer, reached in again and came up with a thick piece of white chalk. He held each item up for the priest to see. Finally he came up with a small gun, which he held in his right hand and pointed at the priest.
"Kneel," said Joshua, bag in one hand, gun in the other.
"No," said Father Wosak. "If you plan to shoot and crucify me, I will not cooperate. I will pray." The priest had clasped his hands and added, "Pray with me in the name of Christ our savior."
"Hypocrite," said Joshua.
"And what does that make you?" said the priest. "You preach. You pray. You murder. Why are you doing this?"
"You know," said Joshua, aiming the gun at the man before him.
"No, I don't," said Father Wosak.
Joshua shook his head. He didn't know how much time he had. There was no time for discussion. This was a Jesuit. If Joshua let him talk, answered his questions, he would be caught up in an explanation, a discussion of religious ethics he would almost certainly lose. No time.
"I didn't lock the door," said the priest. "I pretended to. Someone could walk in any time."
Joshua willed himself not to panic. He stepped closer to the priest, aiming at his chest.
The door to the church did open, with a bang. Flack, Aiden, Stella and two uniformed police officers, all with weapons in hand, stepped in.
"Put it down," Flack called out to Joshua.
Aiden had taken the call from Stella, the call that told her that the man who had called himself Harbaugh had followed a man who had been stalking the priest.
"You don't understand," Joshua said. "This has to be."
"No it doesn't," said Flack, gun aimed straight, held in two hands.
Father Wosak was no more than three feet from Joshua. He held out his right hand. The gun in Joshua's hand was now aimed at the priest's head.
"God is not speaking to you," the priest said. "It's a devil or a demon."
"You believe in devils and demons?" asked Joshua.
"They live inside our heads. They speak to some of us, tell lies. But not often. Usually the voices we hear are our own in disguise."
Joshua laughed. The police had moved forward. Flack was sure he could take Joshua out with one shot.
"Does God also live in my head?" asked Joshua.
"Joshua, God lives in our heads, our bodies, the universe."
"And he speaks to you?" asked Joshua.
"Not in words."
Joshua handed the gun to the priest. Flack, Aiden and the two policemen moved forward with Aiden, who said, "Don't touch that bag. Father, put the gun down on the bench next to you."
The priest did, and turned to put his hand gently on Joshua's shoulder. Joshua wept.
10
JACOB VORHEES LOOKED DOWN AT THE KITCHEN TABLE and softly, without hesitation, said, "I was sleeping. I heard a noise from Becky's room. It was different from the other noises on other nights. I knew Kyle sometimes came through her window and they had sex. Sometimes she made a little noise. None of my business, but this was different. I got up and went down the hallway to Becky's room. I saw my father going in. When I got to Becky's door I saw it. Becky was on the floor. Kyle was on top of her. He had a knife and was stabbing her. My mother was on his back trying to stop him. Kyle was going crazy. I should have done something but I just stood there. Kyle stopped stabbing Becky, pushed my mother off of him and began stabbing her. Then my dad came in and went to help my mom and Becky. Kyle got up and ran at my dad with the knife. I ran out of the room."