The Priest (The Original Sinners #9) - Tiffany Reisz Page 0,113

the time machine to Wes or Noah or Michael, would they take them? Would they take them and go back and turn left when they would have turned right and met her?

She had to wonder.

Her phone buzzed with a message. She glanced at it.

“Cyrus,” she said. “He’s on his way over.”

“I’ll let him in.” He started to leave. “I remember rocking you, after we’d saved you and you were too scared to sleep. Do you remember that night?”

“Of course I remember. I remember you offering to die for me, too. And you would have.”

“I would have. I would again. Now.”

“Is that what Father Ike did? He died to save Melody? Was it really suicide or was he killing the man who was going to hurt her? Is he a hero? Is he a monster? Was killing himself heroic? Or was it cowardly?”

“I don’t know,” S?ren said.

“You’re supposed to know. You’re a fucking priest.”

“A priest, not God,” he said. “I don’t know, Eleanor. I wish to God I did. But this I believe—God was in that room with him when Father Murran died. And wherever he is right now—heaven, hell, or purgatory—he can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

She looked up at him. “Then why does it hurt?”

S?ren reached out to touch her face.

“Please don’t,” Nora whispered, moving her head away from his hand. “Not yet.”

She’d said “Not yet,” but what she meant was “Not you.” She didn’t want him touching her. Not him. Not any man. And the one person she did want wasn’t there…and would never be there again.

He pulled back his hand. “Of course.”

“Sorry.”

The doorbell rang.

Chapter Forty-Three

“Drink?” Nora asked Cyrus. They were in the sitting room, the same one they’d sat in together a week ago when he’d first come here asking about Father Ike. Only a week ago. Felt like ten years.

“Please,” he said. “A big one.”

She poured him a double whiskey, poured one for herself.

Last time they had talked in that room, Cyrus had taken the chair, as far from Nora on the sofa as possible. Now they sat together on the sofa, facing each other.

“Tell me the bad news first,” she said, clutching her highball glass in both hands, scared she’d drop it.

“No, good news first. Detective Naylor says he never touched her,” Cyrus said. “Pretty clear he was planning to, but he hadn’t yet. Except for a couple long hugs, he never raped or molested the girl.”

Nora exhaled so hard she almost fainted. All the air just whooshed right out of her. Her whole body sagged with relief. And for no reason she could name, she started to cry.

“Keep talking,” she said to Cyrus. “Please.”

“That’s the good news. Best news,” Cyrus said. “Detective Naylor said Melody’s mother had no clue at all that her daughter had formed a ‘friendship’ with Father Ike. She’d only met him a couple times at school. They think Ike started hanging out at the house on Annunciation just because it was two blocks from Melody’s house. He’d given her the keys to wait in his car parked by her house. When he didn’t show up by six in the morning to take her to Grand Isle, she walked to the house to see where he was.”

“Dead.”

“Dead for over six hours by then. They’re trying to keep as much as they can from Melody. She doesn’t know about the stuff in the trunk, or the house he rented for two months where he was going to keep her.”

Nora took a long shuddering breath.

“Go on.”

“So there was no crime committed,” Cyrus said. “Nothing really for the cops to do but have a good long talk with Melody’s mother. They may let Melody get some counseling, maybe find an aunt or somebody to spend more time with her. Lonely kids with busy parents got targets on their backs.”

“I know,” Nora said. “I was one of those kids, too. Go on.”

“Like I said, no crime committed. Nothing to do now. That’s the bad news. We know what happened. We know why he killed himself. It’s over.”

Nora put her drink down.

“Over? It can’t be over.”

“The cops can’t arrest a dead man, Nora. What do you want them to do?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “But not nothing.”

They sat in silence and drank their drinks.

“I’m sorry,” Cyrus said.

“I thought it would fun, you know, solving a case.”

“It’s not the Sunday crossword.”

“I know. I know. I didn’t know,” she said. “Now I know.”

Nora looked up when she heard the sound of doors opening and closing, hushed voices whispering. Kingsley walked