“She knows me. What other profile is there?” Paul stood away from the body. His stomach twisted at the casual tone of his voice. He knew it was wrong to work over Bertha’s body without praying, without crying, without feeling for her. “I’ve got to get out of here.”
“Go then. We’ll send someone over later.”
“You don’t need a statement. You know everything I know already.” Paul turned on his heel and walked out.
Keren showed up at the mission an hour later.
Paul saw the dark circles under her eyes. Her hair looked like she hadn’t done more than run her fingers through it and twist it into her barrette for days. He was tempted to smooth the riotous curls. He wanted to take her in his arms. He wanted to share his strength with her and take some of hers for himself. But was that the cop who wanted that or the preacher?
Because he couldn’t be sure, he led her toward the coffeepot.
He got her a cup and one for himself, and, remembering that Caldwell had been watching the mission, Paul dragged her away from the front windows and they sank down at the table closest to the lunch counter.
“He hasn’t called?” Keren asked.
“I’d have let you know,” Paul said with more bite than he’d intended.
Keren nodded and closed her eyes. She held her coffee cup like her hands were freezing, even though it was seventy-five degrees outside. “Sorry. That just slipped out.”
“I know.” Paul drank his stout, bitter brew until he’d emptied the cup.
“So are you still spending the nights at the hospital?”
Paul shook his head. “Rosita is pretty much living there. It’s safer than her going back and forth.”
“You moved back into your apartment?” Keren asked idly.
“No. I don’t think I ever will. There’s another one on that floor. Not big and not in good repair. But I think I’ll move into it permanently.” He got up to refill his cup. He got back and noticed hers was empty. He refilled hers, too, without asking.
“Thanks,” she said, again gripping the cup.
“What about you?” Paul asked. “Are you going back?”
Keren shook her head. “I’m already hunting for a new place. I’m sleeping at the precinct for now.”
“Those cots’ll kill your back.”
“Tell me about it,” Keren muttered. “O’Shea said I could stay at his place when his wife comes back. I know her pretty well. She’s a nice lady. It would work for a couple of weeks if I can’t find something soon.” She shrugged. “Who’s got time to apartment hunt?”
Paul didn’t respond.
“Are you okay?” Keren looked up from her cup. “Are you getting yourself back a little?”
“I’m trying.” Paul took a long drink of the acid coffee. “I don’t know how much success I’m having. I know I should be helping more, but I just can’t. Not right now.”
“I understand. I respect your desire to get away from it.”
“Why would you?” Paul slapped his cup onto the table with a sharp click. “You can’t get away from it. The women who are dead can’t get away. But I bail out when it gets tough. I’m not firm enough in my faith to work beside you and still be a Christian.”
Keren fell silent. She looked up from her coffee and met his eyes squarely for the first time since she’d come in. She studied him. She opened her mouth once then closed it again. After a few silent moments, she said, “I’ve decided to give you a break, now that it doesn’t matter, and tell you where we met.”
Paul was instantly alert. They’d started getting along so well he’d forgotten the little fact that Keren had started out hating his guts. “Okay.”
“You never really met me. Everything you did was on paper and on TV.”
Paul tried to remember.
“I arrested a man who was wanted for a string of crimes, including one you were working on. It was a B and E, nonviolent. No gun.” Keren’s eyes lost their focus as if she were looking into the past. “It was the weirdest thing, the way I caught him. It was a pure accident. I was just new to the detective unit, and we were called in, hours after the fact, to this B and E. I was poking around in the alley behind the high-rise, and here comes this boy out of a ground-floor window. We had a decent description of him and I was sure he was our guy. He should have been long gone. There was no reason why he would have still been hanging around. It was like he was delivered into my hands. I yelled, and he just lay down. I never even drew my gun. I slapped the cuffs on him and while I was securing him, I sensed the demon.”
“He was possessed,” Paul said.
“Yeah. The other cops were all over him so I couldn’t do anything right then, but I rode back to lockup with him. I never left his side while he was booked. Then I got a chance to talk to him alone in the interrogation room. I only said a few words to him about the demon. The boy was so ready to turn to God, I’ll always believe that somehow he stayed behind, waiting for me. It was all in the hands of God from the minute I responded to that call.”
“So you led him to the Lord?” Paul asked, feeling the spurt of pleasure that always lifted him when he heard of someone turning their life around.
“Right there in that dingy room.” Keren smiled at the memory. “And he really was changed. I visited him every day in jail. I was afraid for him to be in such a bleak place with his new faith. I spent hours talking to him. I had my pastor go in to see him, and a group from our church that ministers to prisoners virtually adopted him. The poor guy was swamped with Christian support.”
Paul said, “And he was one of my cases?”
Keren nodded. “Lucas Vilsack. You probably remember him because he was six foot seven and had bright green hair when he was arrested.”
Paul snapped his fingers. “He got out of jail and went to college. He’s playing forward for Notre Dame.”
“That’s the guy.”
“I remember him. I tied him to a string of burglaries that went back two years.”
“Sixteen months. He started in when he became possessed. Ran away from a really good home, lived on the street.”
“So what’s the problem?”
“The problem is—”
Paul cut her off as the light dawned. “I came stomping in on that case and found out he was being given probation and community service. He was going to walk.”
“Because I had been working my butt off arranging for him to walk. While he was out on bail, he’d met with every one of his victims and arranged to pay them back. He had plans to do community service by speaking to high schools about the mistakes he’d made with his life. He’d already given a couple of speeches and they were wonderful. He could really have reached some kids. And he was back in school and involved in a youth group in my church. I had contacted every jurisdiction where he was wanted. He was making no effort to cover up any offenses, because he admitted to things that hadn’t even been connected to him. I’d talked to everyone and urged them to meet him and judge for themselves if his remorse was genuine. And that includes you. I called you and—”
“I wrecked it. I wanted to make an example of him. I couldn’t be bothered to meet him, and I was sure he was just conning a rookie detective. I used my influence to make sure he did some real time.”
“Five years. He got out in two because he was a model prisoner.”
Paul closed his eyes as more details came back. “And I did my best to have you, and every other cop who was letting him off the hook, busted back to a uniform.”
“There were four of us. One was older and he took early retirement. The other two ended up walking a beat for a while, but they eventually left the force. They were all three good cops who didn’t see a future for themselves once they had bad paper in their jackets from the charges you filed against us.”