Finding Forever (37 page)

Three days. It had been three days since Brooklyn's encounter with Beckett in the pantry. Before leaving the house, Beckett had promised he would text her the next day, but as of yet Brooklyn had heard nothing.

Holden's research had proved equally unproductive. Even he had not been able to get any closer to identifying the security guards. Brooklyn's own research into possible rehabs in Southern California didn't yield any breaks, either. And no leads or any hint of where Taylor could be had come from Twitter or Instagram.

Gnawing at her fingernails until the cuticles bled, Brooklyn had grown more agitated, more unable to focus on anything but the story. Brooklyn had gone to swim practice with Holden on Friday. She had also tried to read a book, but kept re-reading the first page over and over because she couldn't focus. Beckett held the key to unlocking the secret to Taylor's whereabouts, and Brooklyn kicked herself for not getting more information out of him when she had the chance. If Beckett flaked out, it would be the journalistic equivalent of a detective letting a serial killer go free after an interrogation without a confession. Disastrous.

Brooklyn felt she had no choice but to restore some order to the chaos. And it being Saturday night, she could engage in the ultimate ritual in her Fourmation playbook.

The brown-brick Cathedral of St. Francis stood on Main Street, next door to a Wells Fargo and across the street from the Twin Oaks Police headquarters. St. Francis was where Brooklyn had been baptized, where she had made her First Communion, and, just two years ago, where she had her Confirmation.
It was also where she had mourned her father's death four years ago in a ceremony fit for a fallen general.

Brooklyn walked up the stone front stairs in a long, white, ankle-length cotton skirt and canary top. Her mom had said this outfit made her look like an Easter egg—white, yellow, and red on top—but it remained Brooklyn's favorite.

On her father's funeral day, Brooklyn had dressed appropriately dark. Brooklyn remembered the white-gloved officers carrying her father's flag-draped coffin down the center aisle to the awaiting hearse, the touching remembrances of fellow cops, and of friends, and a homily from Father McGavin. The church had been standing-room-only that afternoon, with an overflow crowd in the lobby to pay their respects.

On this Saturday evening, however, the sanctuary echoed with near emptiness.

Brooklyn picked her favorite pew. She performed the sign of the cross and slid onto the bench, placing the kneeling pad down, closing her eyes, and folding her hands in silent prayer.

Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with you . . .

Brooklyn believed that traditional prayers such as “Hail Mary” opened up the ears of the Holy Father, as well as departed spirits. So once the prayer was completed, Brooklyn began silently talking to her own father.

Dad, I miss you. But I feel your presence, and I know you are always there for me. Your spirit is always with me. I know you are watching me and I want to make you proud. Like you, my work is my mission to spread the values of truth and justice. But I am stuck. I fear that Taylor Prince could be in danger. I could use some divine inspiration or a sign or any guidance. I know you and God are very tight. So if you could please put in a good word for me, I will not let you down. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Brooklyn liked that each Catholic Mass was anchored with four parts: the Introductory Rites, the Liturgy of the Word, the Liturgy of the Eucharist, and the Concluding Rites. The physical act of performing the four-pointed sign of the cross offered her a calm like no other. Yet she questioned the authenticity of stories more than two thousand years old. She knew how slippery the truth could be and that there could be as many versions of events as there were people who witnessed them. But she didn't question the calming peace she found in the Mass, or her ability to communicate to God and her father. She hadn't lost faith.

“Today's reading is from the book of Revelation,” announced Father McGavin from the pulpit. “Chapter one, verse eight. ‘I am the Alpha and the Omega, who is and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty.' Alpha is the first letter of the Greek alphabet and Omega is the last. God is not only saying that he is the first and the last of everything, the one who can create and end life, but also that he is eternal. You need not look any farther than Him, for he is, what we in modern parlance might say, the end-all and be-all. We will find eternal life through faith in Him.”

And then that's when Brooklyn experienced a revelation of her own.
Alpha and Omega.
An
A
and an
O
. Letters. The license plate.

Thank you, Dad.

“The Singularity,” Dr. Kensington lectured his two disciples in his high-pitched voice. “The idea is to live long enough to experience what is known as the Singularity. That is the moment in human evolution where computer intelligence, our understanding of human biology, and our brain-computer technologies have developed to such a point that humans will possess a technological super-intelligence. At this stage, we'll be able to extend our lives indefinitely. That is why we must live healthfully, and we must follow the Program.”