The Devil's Labyrinth

“Perhaps I put it badly,” Father Sebastian said evenly. “The point is that he’s gone off before, hasn’t he? And he always came back home?”

When Gordy Adamson only glowered at the priest, his wife spoke. “He’s right, Gordy.” She tried to put her hand over his, but he pulled it away.

“We sent him to your damn school so he wouldn’t run away anymore,” Gordy said, his voice grating. “If you’re just going to let him take off, what’s the point? Maybe we shoulda kept him home. He coulda run away from here and it wouldn’t cost us a dime!”

“Gordy, please—” Anne begged.

Gordy Adamson’s expression darkened and he moved slightly away from his wife. “I’m just sayin’—”

“It’s all right, Mrs. Adamson,” Father Sebastian cut in quickly. “Actually, he’s got a point. But the odds are Kip will be back by morning.”

“And if he’s not?” Gordy challenged.

“Then we’ll talk about it in the morning,” Father Sebastian calmly replied. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned in dealing with kids over the last few years, it’s never to borrow trouble. And so far, there’s no evidence Kip is in any trouble.”

“But isn’t there anything we can do?” Anne fretted. “It seems like there must be something!”

Father Sebastian smiled at her. “Actually, there is. You can make a list of anyone Kip might have gotten in touch with, and start calling. I’m talking about all his friends from before he came to St. Isaac’s — everyone that you can think of. And give us a copy of the list so we can follow up, too.”

“And maybe we should call the police,” Gordy said, his tone as challenging as the look in his eyes.

“We certainly can,” Father Sebastian said, refusing to rise to Adamson’s bait. “On the other hand, given that Kip has no criminal record, the police aren’t likely to do anything at all for at least twenty-four hours, but if you want to spend most of the night answering questions, I’ll be happy to get the ball rolling.”

Brother Francis watched as Gordy Adamson visibly deflated.

Ten minutes later, the list of Kip’s friends and their phone numbers in hand, the two clerics left.

“Well, we didn’t learn much there,” Brother Francis sighed as he started the car.

“Actually, we did,” Father Sebastian replied. “We learned that Gordy Adamson is a thoroughgoing son-of-a- bitch, and that wherever Kip goes, it won’t be home.”

As he started back toward Boston, Brother Francis decided that he liked Father Sebastian.

He liked him a lot.

CHAPTER 7

TERI MCINTYRE’S KNEES THREATENED to buckle when she saw Ryan’s battered face, ashen beneath the swelling and bruising. Tom gripped her arm to steady her as she moved to her son’s bedside. All around him was the machinery of the hospital, but blessedly he didn’t seem to be attached to more than two of them — one an I.V. drip, the other monitoring his vital signs.

“Oh darling, I’m so sorry,” she whispered, leaning close, not wanting to wake him if he was sleeping, but wanting to be sure he heard if he was awake. Ryan opened his eyes and gazed at her for a moment. Then his eyes shifted to Tom Kelly, and Teri thought she saw them narrow for a split second before he let them fall closed again.

Tom brought over a chair, and Teri sank into it, taking hold of her son’s limp hand. “Who did this?” she asked gently. “Someone from school?”

Ryan opened his eyes again and looked at her, his swollen lips attempting a grim smile.

“Don’t try to talk,” Teri told him. “Just nod or shake your head if it doesn’t hurt too much. Have the police talked with you?”

Ryan nodded.

“Do they know who did this?”

Ryan shook his head.

“Well, we’ll find them,” Teri assured him. “They won’t get away with this.” Her voice began to rise. “We’ll send—”

She felt Tom’s hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently, and took a deep breath.

Once again Ryan’s eyes opened, and now he tried to form a word with his battered mouth. Teri poured a glass of water from the plastic pitcher on his nightstand, took the wrapper off a fresh straw, and held it to his lips as he sucked weakly. Still, the little water he managed seemed to help. “Just — just forget it,” he whispered.

Teri stared at him. “Forget it?” she echoed.

Ryan took as deep a breath as he could, exhaling it in a rattling sigh. “It’ll just make it worse for me,” he said, struggling to pronounce each word clearly.

“How could anything be worse than this?” Teri asked, but even as she spoke, she knew exactly what worse could look like.

Ryan could be dead.

As if he’d read the thought in her expression, Ryan closed his eyes and sank deeper into his pillow.

Teri sat back in her chair, unconsciously smoothing her skirt. How long had he lain in that bathroom? she wondered. Had he been lying there unconscious in a pool of his own blood all the time she’d been sitting in the restaurant with Tom? How could she have done it? How could she have gone out on a date — a date! — without knowing exactly where her son was? What kind of mother was she? If only she could trade places with him; she should have been beaten up, not him.

If only Bill were here! He’d know what to do. Why did he have to die? He ought to be here helping her. Helping her, and helping Ryan! Tears welled behind her eyes, but she steeled herself against them; the last thing Ryan needed right now was to have her start crying.

The hospital room door opened and a young doctor with a stethoscope hanging around his neck strode in and offered her his hand.

“Mrs. McIntyre? I’m Dr. Barris. Your boy here seems to be a lot stronger than he looks right now. We took CAT scans of his head and torso, and he actually looks a lot worse off than he is. There’s some bruising, but he’ll be just fine.”

Teri felt a little bit of her burden of guilt lift at the doctor’s words. “When can he come home? Tonight?”

Barris shook his head. “It’s bad enough to make us want to keep him overnight for observation, but if nothing worrisome develops, I’ll discharge him tomorrow. Sunday at the latest.”

“Well at least that’s good news,” Teri sighed. She gave Ryan’s hand a quick squeeze. “Did you hear that?”

Ryan nodded, but didn’t open his eyes.

“We’ve given him something for the pain,” Barris went on. He should be down for the night within about ten more minutes.”

“Can I stay with him?” Teri asked. “Just sit here?”

The doctor shrugged noncommittally, but Tom Kelly shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. Just let him sleep.”

“But what if he needs something?” Teri pleaded and suddenly Tom understood exactly what was really in her mind.

“He’s not going to need anything, and if he does, he’s got a whole nursing staff to take care of it for him. But I’ll bet he’d like you to be awake tomorrow, instead of passing out whenever he tries to talk to you.”

Teri looked helplessly at Ryan. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be breathing regularly and easily. Tom was right — there was nothing she could do for him tonight. “Okay,” she said, rising shakily to her feet.

“I’ll see you all in the morning, then,” Dr. Barris said. His pager beeped, he glanced at it, then said a quick good-bye and left the room.

Teri leaned over the edge of the bed and kissed Ryan on the cheek, then smoothed his hair, which was still damp from the nurse washing the blood out of it. She looked down at her son, her chest tight. “Good night, honey,”