Atonement (28 page)

Seeing her like that, Con could imagine her with a kid or two hanging over her shoulders. It floored him, making him take a step back. It was difficult enough picturing Nic as a serious girlfriend, but as a mother?

“Let's get this over with. After what I did, I'm pretty sure you'd rather get me out of here than look at me.”

Her statement threw him. He gaped at her before shaking his head, realizing what she was attempting to do.

“Bloody hell, Nic.” He tromped over and crouched down to her level. “I'm not mad at you. If anything, I can understand why you needed to do it, but you didn't have to do a disappearing act. I would have taken you there.”

She continued to keep her focus on Cadno. “It wasn't something I wanted you to be present to see.”

“Are you that blind, or just too stubborn to see what's in front of you?”

Her hand stilled in Cadno's fur. Snapping his fingers, Con barked a command for Cadno to fetch. The dog hesitated a fraction before rolling off Nic's lap and trotting to the fence line to search for the KONG Con had hidden among the bushes a day ago.

Taking her hands, Con pulled Nic to her feet and trapped her in his arms. She didn't struggle, just stood there stiffly.

“Part of me realizes I can't flip a switch inside of you and make you quit doing what you've always done. But the other part wants you to just stop it and let me in.”

“Why does it matter so much to you?”

“Can't you figure it out?”

The stiffness left her posture, and she slowly relaxed against him. “I don't know what it's like to have someone care for me.”

“You do; why else would your sister be here?”

“That's not what I mean. I … I'm not talking about that.”

Either he had gone daft, or she was confused. What did she mean? Realization smacked him upside the head. She didn't know what it was like to be loved by a man or have a male care for her. Her father hadn't done either.

“Oh, Nic, I'm so sorry.”

She frowned, making her lips pucker in a cute pout. “Why?”

Gently, he tucked stray wisps of her hair behind her ear, brushing his fingertips over the bruise on the side of her neck. “You should have never been made to feel unloved. Did Aiden even say he cared for you?”

She swallowed and averted her eyes. “Not that I can remember. We weren't exactly thinking half the time we were together.”

“Why were you with him?”

Somehow she managed to get an arm between them, and she rubbed her forehead. “Some perverted sense of payback at The General, I guess. At one point I thought I had feelings for Aiden, but by then, things had gotten ugly.”

“Is that what you think will happen with us?”

Nic wagged her head. “I don't know. It's just too much right now.” She struggled in his arms, and Con freed her. She staggered to the patio furniture and sagged into one of the chairs.

Cadno took that as permission to return to her. This time, he laid his head in her lap and stared at her. With her head bowed, Nic stared back, but she didn't touch the dog.

Uncertain how far he could push, Con remained rooted where he stood. He racked his brain to find something to use as a safety net. Obviously, he meant something to her, or she wouldn't have bitten his head off for making the assumption that she'd used sex with him as a means to an end for her. It was that newness of emotions that must've had her running scared.

Finally he took the chair beside her and stroked Cadno's fur. The German Shepherd made a contented sound and shifted his attention from Nic to Con.

“There's one male in this whole circus who's taken to you. He risked his neck for you. Even took on a family of raccoons for you.”

Nic's head came up, and she blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

He smiled and roughed Cadno's fur. “This guy was the one who found you last night. And when he did, he stood over your body to make sure raccoons wouldn't attack you.”

“Raccoons don't normally attack humans unless they're rabid.”

Con shrugged. “Cadno seemed to think so.”

With his tongue hanging out of his mouth, Cadno winked at Nic. His actions were rewarded with her laugh.

“Apparently my hero needs a medal for his valor.”

“I know for a fact he prefers his steaks rare.”

More laughter rang out. The sound of it filled Con with warmth. He reached out and took her hand. She stilled but didn't resist.

“Let me show you that Cadno's not the only one.”

“What I said in the hospital wasn't a ploy to make you leave, Con. I'm going to keep fighting back. It's in my nature, I was conditioned to do it, and it's hard to stop.”

“I haven't given up yet.”

She sighed. “Maybe not, but what about when it gets dangerous and tough?”

Standing, Con pulled her upright but didn't wrap her in an embrace. “We'll face that situation when it presents itself.”

“It might come sooner than you think.”

“And like I said, we'll face it then. Right now, I'm starving, and I believe there's still half a package of bacon left from yesterday.”

“What about work?”

“You've been banned from coming in until the sheriff and the chief can sort out how to handle the fallout from yesterday's events. And the good doc has restricted you to house rest pending another exam tomorrow or the day after.”

“There's still a killer out there.”

Con flicked her shoulder. “Nothing says we can't work from home. After all, your dining room table is loaded with the case files.”

“Well, when you put it like that … Let's eat, then go to my place. Your house is too small to lug all of those cases over here.”

“I should be offended that you think my home is small.”

Another smile appeared. It was getting so that he thought this wasn't the real Nic Rivers. “It's fine, for its purpose.” She gave him a peck on the lips, then entered the house with Cadno hot on her heels.

“Kissing me like that will get you everywhere,” he called after her.

“Who said we had to stop at kissing?”

• • •

Nic managed to convince Con to let her come to the church alone. He put up a good fight, but her begging—a tactic she hadn't used since she was a child—seemed to take him unaware and gave her the foothold to change his mind. She had to do this on the sly or Sheriff Hamilton would have her hide in a sling. So here she sat in her sister's car—because no one would recognize her in something other than her Jeep—staring at the stone and brick building, trying to gather the fortitude to enter.

A few people had come and gone, keeping their heads low and speed-walking to and from their vehicles. Doug Walker's public death had sent the town into a tailspin. People were clinging to their beliefs and their prejudices.

The midmorning newscast on the car radio focused on the shooting. Tension coiled through Nic as she listened to the vile things the
eyewitnesses
spewed at the police for their inaction. Who the hell cared that the person who killed himself in front of the children was a cop, or that he held a child hostage? These eyewitnesses claimed that “Doug Walker just wasn't capable of such a heinous act.”

Bullshit!

One woman claimed that maybe the sheriff's department should look at their female deputy. After all, hadn't she killed Dusty Walker?

Even though Nic hadn't pulled the trigger or killed Doug, they still found a way to place the blame on her for all of this upheaval, whether saying it outright or implying.

Damn them and their narrow-mindedness.

Nic gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white and throbbed. What a bunch of pricks. Soon as she put a cap on this Priest case, she was out of here. The people of Eider could take their self-righteous attitudes and shove them up their …

Sniffing, Nic closed her eyes. Tears spilled over her eyelashes and trickled down her cheek. For days, she'd tried not to let their intolerance get to her, tried to look past it and still care for them, but she couldn't take the weight any longer.

Rubbing away her tears, she turned off the battery and then vacated the car. After locking it, she crammed the keys into her pocket and, with head bowed, made the trek into the church. With each step she shoved her emotions into a secret place in her mind and dragged out the numbness that had gotten her through her sniper training and all the missions thereafter. The same sense of unease she'd experienced the last time she stepped into St. Mary's fell over her again. Like she belonged with the unclean instead of the holy ones. She drew in a deep breath and let it out. No sense of guilt would make her run. She did what she could do. That didn't make her a murderer.

A door on the right side of the altar opened, and Father Evans emerged from a little room. He gaped at Nic for a brief moment before plastering a horrible attempt at a welcoming smile on his face and came to greet her. “Deputy Rivers, what a surprise.”

“I'm sure it is.” She pointed at the room he vacated. “Is that your office?”

He peered back at the door and shook his head. “No, that is a small waiting room the parishioners use to enter and leave the confessional if they prefer privacy.”

She noticed the small boxed room off to the right of the door. “Does it have a back exit?”

“Yes, it leads behind the alter to a door that opens outside, or they can take a hallway that leads into the kitchen in our fellowship hall.”

How convenient for the guilty to come and go without detection from their fellow congregants and to avoid the gossip sure to follow.

She scrunched her nose at the errant thought. The person aiding the victims in their suicides knew about their sins. Had he been using the confessional to gather his intel and then hold it against them? “Is there a way for you to get inside from this back passageway without anyone seeing you?”

Father Evans mimicked her screwed-up facial features. “Actually, yes. I don't use it, but there is a back door to my side of the confessional that leads to the same hallway.”

“Can I see it?”

“Of course.” He turned and beckoned for her to follow.

She fell into step behind him. For a middle-aged man Father Evans moved smoothly, but he had the gait of a man who'd spent too much time on his knees.

“Am I to assume that yesterday's events have brought you here?” Father Evans asked as he opened a side panel that hid in the wall.

“Something like that.”

She followed him into the passageway, which was wide enough for one person to move through. To the left a door led outside, and to the right she spotted an opening leading into what he'd said was the kitchen. This is probably where the sound of a closing door came from the last time she was here.

“Is there a special sign outside to let another parishioner know someone is using the confessional?”

“Uh, yes. Each person is supposed to flip it when they come and go.” Father Evans pointed toward the kitchen. “We don't have that route set up this way, because not many people use it.”

Nic backed out of the hall and waited for him to join her. “Have you caught anyone back here at inappropriate times?”

“How do you mean?” Suspicion tinged his question.

“I mean, have you seen anyone using the confessional when they're not supposed to?”

“I don't think I care for what you're implying, Deputy Rivers. The church is open at all times for those in need.”

Licking her lips, Nic suppressed the urge to give him a feral smile. Back him in a corner and make him squirm. Con might think she was out of line to push people until their tempers popped, but she'd found it a good tactic when dealing with the uncooperative.

“Like today? I sat out in the parking lot and watched a lot of people come and go. How many of them used your secret passageway to confess their sins? Or better yet, who slipped into your side of the confessional and pretended to be you?”

“That's preposterous.” Red blotches appeared on his face. “The people who came here did so because they needed comfort and answers for what happened yesterday. My members would never defile the sanctity of the confessional by pretending to be me.” For a member of the clergy, he had a short fuse, something she hadn't picked up on the last time she was around him. And a problem that could land him as a suspect.

“Father Evans, how long have you been pastoring this church?”

“Sixteen years.”

Too long for what Agent Hunt had suggested was the killer's time frame. Father Evans had removed himself from the list, but there still remained the question of how the killer knew what his victims' sins were. And the confessional made perfect sense.

“Father, you see, there have been some things that have popped up since I last spoke with you. And more than just Deputy Walker committing suicide for all to see.”

Losing his stern posture and red face, Father Evans rocked back on his heels. “I see.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “You'll have to forgive me for my momentary ire at your questioning. I've been dealing with the tragic fallout over that incident with most of the townspeople. The clergy of Eider have created a crisis group to help with the mental and physical well-being of the folks after situations like this. I'm somewhat out of sorts.”

“No more than I am for being the one to watch him do it, and there was nothing I could have done to stop it.” Now, how to ask Father Evans her next question without making her sound like a lunatic? “You know Doug Walker was spouting religious things before he died. But we've learned that Dusty, Seth Moore, and Giselle Tomberlin had done the same.”

“Religious things such as atonement?”

“Atonement. Commandments. Sins. It's why they killed themselves. They broke a commandment like adultery, and they needed to atone for their sin. All things I would suspect were confessed in private to someone like ... yourself.”