She picked up a pencil and began drawing lines through some of the names.
"Does that mean you have a suspect?"
Renny chewed the inside of his lip. He'd have to be real careful here.
"We don't have a name, but we do have an old photo."
She handed back the list, then took her seat again.
"Well…?"
Renny pulled the photo out of his breast pocket and placed it on the coffee table between them. He wished he could have arranged for one of those computer-generated drawings that aged a suspect's face.
"A priest?"
Anxiously, Renny watched her face, searching for some hint of recognition as she picked it up and studied it.
"A Jesuit. As I said, this is an old picture. No doubt he looks a lot different now."
She said, "And you say he's been here less than five years?"
"We believe so. That's when he disappeared. Give it a good look. He might have a beard or a mustache these days." He thought he saw her stiffen. "Remind you of anyone?"
She shook her head quickly. "No. No one."
A thrill shot through Renny as he realized she might be lying. Those last two words, the extra, unnecessary emphasis, gave her away. What was that look in her eyes now? Uncertainty? He caught her quick glance at the list in his hand. The photo must remind her of someone at her party.
"Sure?"
"Positive."
If he'd been on his home turf, Renny would have jumped all over her, maybe even gone so far as to bring her down to the station. But he was in a legally precarious position here. If the department got even a whiff of what he was up to, he'd be in big trouble. So he stood and stuffed the guest list in his pocket. He reached across and took the photo from her.
"Thank you, Miss Whitman. You've been a big help. Maybe we'll finally track down this pervo."
She was staring at him.
"Your accent… you sound like a New Yorker now."
Damn! Time to beat it.
"Yes, well, I spent part of my youth in Queens. Hard to kick some things, don't you think?"
She said nothing.
"Okay, well, I've got to get back to Raleigh. Thanks again."
He hurried out the door and fairly danced down the steps after it closed behind him. Somewhere on that list in his pocket was the new identity of Father Bill Ryan. He was closing in. He could taste it.
And when he found him, he'd drag him back for trial. But not before he'd extracted down payment on five years worth of rage from his worthless hide.
Wouldn't be long now. Not long at all.
Rafe showed up only moments after the detective had departed. Lisl told him about the encounter but didn't mention how the photo of the priest had reminded her vaguely of Will. But it was so hard to tell. The priest in the photo had been so young and fresh-faced, with a straight nose and unscarred forehead, so different from Will. But still, there was something there. Plus the fact that Will had been working around Darnell less than three years now, and a beard was a good disguise if you were on the run…
She shook off the apprehensions. Groundless. Silly. Will was the gentlest of men. She couldn't imagine him hurting anyone, especially a child. And besides, Will had been nowhere near the phone when it rang. She distinctly remembered seeing him standing in the middle of'the room.
But why had Will disappeared immediately after?
No matter. She was sure he'd have a good explanation the next time they talked. And she didn't have to worry about the cop bothering him—Will had been so adamant about not coming, she hadn't bothered to put his name on the guest list.
Rafe brushed off her puzzlement as to why the State Police were getting involved, saying it had nothing to do with them, that they had more important things to concern them.
But she noticed that he was unusually quiet and pensive as they drove through town on their way to his mystery destination.
They wound up sitting at the curb near the rear parking lots of County Medical Center for a good twenty minutes or more. With Rafe so quiet she found herself thinking about Will again. Why had he disappeared from her party like that? Right when that awful phone call had come through. She could have used a little comfort from him then.
She wished she could find him and talk to him but she hadn't seen him since the party. Christmas break had a lot to do with that. The students were gone and campus routine was on hold until the second week in January. The few times she'd been back to her office she'd checked the old elm tree but he'd been nowhere in sight.
And she couldn't call him because he had no phone…
Phone… she wondered if there was any connection between his aversion to phones and the call at the party. But how could there be?
The only way to find out would be to ask him, and that would have to wait until she saw him again. Right now she was chilly and bored.
"What are we waiting for?" she asked Rafe for the fourth time.
"A face. The face we will be targeting. Just watch that nine-twelve over there."
"What's a nine-twelve?"
"A car. A Porsche. That little black one, third from the right in the lot over there."
Lisl spotted the car he meant. A sleek, sporty-looking two-seater. It looked built for speed.
"That's the doctor's parking lot."
"Yes. I know."
Lisl was just beginning to get an inkling of why they might be here when she saw him. A tall, dark-haired man in brushed wool slacks and a camel hair overcoat.
"Oh, God! It's Brian!"
"Yes. Dr. Brian Callahan. Your ex-husband. Very good-looking. I compliment you on your taste. Reminds me a little of Mel Gibson. I suspect he tries to emphasize the resemblance."
Lisl felt something akin to panic gripping her throat.
"Get me out of here."
"Why? Does he frighten you?"
"No. I just don't want to have anything to do with him."
"Why not?"
Lisl didn't answer. How could she? She wasn't sure herself. She hadn't seen Brian for years, and hadn't thought of him much at all since she'd met Rafe. But seeing him now brought back that awful, searing moment outside the attorney's office. The look on his face, the contempt in his voice, the words… I never loved you…
And with the memory came the pain.
She couldn't face him again, couldn't bear to have those hard, cold eyes pierce her again. She had come so far since that day. She couldn't risk letting him drag her down again. And he could do it. She knew he could look at her with that face and make her feel like nothing. Lisl never wanted to feel like nothing again.
Yes. She was afraid of Brian. He had never struck her, never harmed her physically. She almost wished he had. That would have been easier to deal with than the punishment he had meted out to her at the end of their marriage.
"Why not?" Rafe repeated.
"He's simply not worth the time," Lisl said.
"Oh, but he is. You helped put him where he is. You worked to pay the rent, you cooked his meals, you made it possible for him to get through medical school while he was sticking it to anything in a skirt."
"Drop it, Rafe. It's yesterday's news."
"And then when he was ready for his residency and could start making some money on his own, he dumped you."
"Enough."
"Look at him, Lisl. Tall, handsome, prosperous—only a couple of years into private practice and already he's driving an expensive sports car, wearing Armani clothes. And he owes much of it to you."
"I don't want anything from him!"
"Yes, you do." Rafe's eyes were fierce. "You want to be free of him."
"I am free of him."
"Legally, yes. But are you?"
Lisl heard/Brian's car start, saw him back out of his space, then race to the -lot exit. When the gate rose to let him out, he roared away with squealing, smoking tires.