thirty-five.
The kid turned back to Byrne. 'Yeah.'
Byrne absently thumbed the rubber band around the fat envelope. He had never counted the contents. When he had taken it from Gideon Pratt that night, he had no reason to think it was a penny less than the five thousand dollars they had agreed upon. There was no reason to count it now.
'This is for Mrs. Watts,' Byrne said. He held the kid's eyes for a few, flat seconds, a look that both of them had experienced in their time, a look that needed no embellishment, no footnoting.
The kid reached out, cautiously took the envelope. 'She gonna want to know who it's from,' he said.
Byrne nodded. Soon the kid understood that no answer was forthcoming.
The kid stuffed the envelope into his pocket. Byrne watched as he swaggered across the street, up to the house, stepped inside, hugged a few of the young men standing sentinel at the door. Byrne looked through the window as the kid waited briefly in the short receiving line. He could hear the strains of Al Green's 'You Brought the Sunshine' playing.
Byrne wondered how many times this scene would be played out across the country this night-too-young mothers sitting in too-hot parlors, presiding over the wake of a child given to the beast.
For all that Marius Green may have done wrong in his short life, for all the misery and pain he may have spread, there was only one reason he was in that alley that night, and that play had nothing to do with him.
Marius Green was dead, as was the man who killed him in cold blood. Was it justice? Perhaps not. But there was no doubt that it all began the day Deirdre Pettigrew met a terrible man in Fairmount Park, a day that had ended with another young mother with a ball of damp tissue in her hands, and a front room full of friends and family.
There is no solution, just resolution, Byrne thought. He was not a man who believed in karma. He was a man who believed in action and reaction.
Byrne watched as Delilah Watts opened the envelope. After the initial shock set in, she put her hand to her heart. She composed herself, then looked out the window, directly at him, directly into Kevin Byrne's soul. He knew that she could not see him, that all she could see was the black mirror of night, and the rain-streaked reflection of her own pain.
Kevin Byrne bowed his head, then turned up his collar and walked into the storm.
66
FRIDAY, 8:2 5 PM
As Jessica drove home, the radio predicted a huge thunderstorm. High winds, lightning, flood warnings. Parts of Roosevelt Boulevard were already inundated.
She thought about the night she had met Patrick, so many years ago. She had watched him work in the ER that night, so impressed with his grace and confidence, his ability to comfort the people who came in those doors, looking for help.
People responded to him, believed in his ability to relieve their pain. His looks certainly didn't hurt. She tried to think rationally about him. What did she really know? Was she able to think about him in the same terms she had thought about Brian Parkhurst?
No, she was not.
But the more she thought about it, the more it became possible. The fact that he was an MD, the fact that he could not account for his time at crucial intervals in the time line of the murders, the fact that he had lost his kid sister to violence, the fact that he was a Catholic, and, inescapably, the fact that he had treated all five girls. He knew their names and addresses, their medical histories.
She had looked again at the digital photographs of Nicole Taylor's hand. Could Nicole have been spelling out F A R instead of P A R?
It was possible.
Despite her instincts, Jessica finally admitted it to herself. If she didn't know Patrick, she would be leading the charge to arrest him, based on one immutable fact:
He knew all five girls.
67
FRIDAY, 8:55 PM
Byrne stood in the ICU watching Lauren Semanski.
The ER team had told him that Lauren had a lot of methampheta- mine in her system, that she was a chronic user, and that when her abductor had injected her with the midazolam, it did not have quite the effect it might have had if Lauren had not been full of a powerful stimulant.
Although they had not yet been able to talk to her, it was clear that Lauren Semanski's injuries were consistent with those that might have been incurred by someone leaping from a moving vehicle. Incredibly, although her injuries were numerous and serious, except for the toxicity of the drugs in her system, none was life threatening.
Byrne sat down next to her bed.
He knew that Patrick Farrell was a friend of Jessica's. He suspected that there was probably more to their relationship than mere friendship, but he would leave that for Jessica to tell him.
There had been so many false clues and blind alleys in this case so far. He was not sure that Patrick Farrell fit the mold, either. When he had met the man at the Rodin Museum crime scene, he had not gotten a feeling of any kind.
Still, that didn't seem to matter much these days. Chances were good that he could shake hands with Ted Bundy and not have a clue. Everything pointed to Patrick Farrell. He'd seen many an arrest warrant issued on much less.
He took Lauren's hand in his. He closed his eyes. The pain settled above his eyes, high and hot and murderous. Soon, the images detonated in his mind, shunting the breath in his lungs, and the door at the end of his mind swung wide…
68
FRIDAY, 8:55 PM
Scholars believe that a storm rose over Calvary on the day of Christ's death, that the sky grew dark over the valley as He hung upon the cross.
Lauren Semanski had been very strong. Last year, when she tried to take her own life, I had looked at her and wondered why such a determined young woman would do such a thing. Life is a gift. Life is a blessing.Why had she tried to throw it all away?
Why had any of them tried to throw it away?
Nicole had lived with the ridicule of her classmates, an alcoholicfather.
Tessa had survived her mother's lingering death, andfaced her father's slow descent.
Bethany had been the object of scorn for her weight.
Kristi had problems with anorexia.
When I had treated them,I knew that I was cheating the Lord.They had set themselves on a path and I had
