when he heard one. Sure enough, McCain answered his own question without so much as a pause.
“I think this guy was after something specific.”
Morgan shrugged. “Maybe so. But what? Mrs. McIntyre didn’t seem to think anything was missing except some jewelry, and she said what was gone wasn’t worth much.” “Exactly,” McCain said. “And nobody’s going to take junk jewelry, except to make it look like a burglary. Most of the junkies know how to spot the good stuff these days.” He picked up the report folder, flipped it open and twisted his penlight. “I’ve just got a funny feeling about this. Something hinkey about the whole thing.” “You want something hinkey, how about this traffic?” Morgan grumbled. “How come people don’t just stay home once in a while?” “Ah, crap,” McCain groaned. “You’re going to love this.” “What?”
“No signature on the form.”
Morgan looked at the clock on the dash. 9:47. Their shift ended at ten. “Christ.” “We gotta go back.”
“We’re almost at the station,” Morgan protested.
“And we can’t go in with an unsigned sheet.” McCain sighed. “Turn it around.” “Maria’s not going to be happy,” Morgan said. “I told her I’d be home in time to say good night to the kids—” “Okay, how about I drop you off at the station and I go back by myself? It was my stupid mistake.” Steve Morgan thought about it for no more than a second. If McCain was alone, and a call came in, either he’d have to respond to it alone, or the department would be short a car. “Forget it,” he said, turning on the flashing lights and swerving the cruiser around the grid- locked traffic.
The kids would just have to stay up an extra hour.
CHAPTER 46
RYAN?” FATHER SEBASTIAN asked, his voice sounding slightly puzzled, but keeping his flashlight squarely in Ryan’s eyes, making it impossible for him to see the priest’s face, let alone read his expression.
Ryan had been caught — there was no escaping that fact — but he had no idea if Father Sebastian knew he’d been following them and had watched them put Jeffrey Holmes’s body into the stone sarcophagus. Maybe if he just played dumb…
“What are you doing down here?” Father Laughlin asked, giving Ryan an opportunity.
“I don’t even know where I am,” he said, making his voice as plaintive as he could without overdoing it. “Clay Matthews — my roommate — told me there was a shortcut to the gym, but I got lost.” He tried to shield his eyes from the beam of the flashlight. “I was really getting scared ’til I saw your light a minute ago. I didn’t think I was ever going to get out of here.”
“Well, you’re certainly not anywhere near the gymnasium,” Father Sebastian said, still holding the blazing light steady. “How long have you been down here?”
Ryan tried for a helpless shrug as his mind worked furiously. “I don’t even know. It seems like hours, but I guess it couldn’t be. What time is it now? It was about eight-thirty when I left my room.”
“And it’s almost nine, now,” Father Sebastian told him. “So it hasn’t actually been hours.”
A trickle of perspiration trailed down the side of Ryan’s face, but he couldn’t tell if the priests noticed it.
“You know, it’s against the rules to use the tunnels as a shortcut,” Father Sebastian said.
Ryan shook his head. “Nobody told me that, and everyone uses them for shortcuts.”
“And too often people get lost,” Father Sebastian replied. “Which is exactly why it’s against the rules.”
“I’m sorry,” Ryan said, putting as much conviction into his voice as he could muster. “I really didn’t know, and I can tell you after tonight I’ll sure never do it again.”
He could almost feel the two priests weighing not only his words, but the tone of his voice, and the expression in his eyes as well.
“All right,” Father Sebastian finally sighed, lowering the light. Ryan took a deep breath of relief. “Come with us.”
As sheepishly as he could — and keeping his head down — Ryan followed close behind the two priests as they walked quickly through the maze of tunnels, up and down various short flights of steps that had been put in where the levels of the various basements didn’t quite match. The flashlight beam illuminated only the floor in front of their feet, but Father Laughlin seemed to know exactly where they were and where he was going.
Ryan began rehearsing what he’d do once he was above ground.
The first thing would be to find the nearest door to the streets and get as far away from St. Isaac’s as he possibly could.
Then call his mother.
Then call the police.
And then, with his mother and the police, he’d come back and show them where the two priests had put Jeffrey Holmes’s body.
And he’d get Melody out of the infirmary and into a real hospital.
Except how was he going to show the police where Jeffrey Holmes was? He’d been trying to keep track of all the turns they’d made, and how many steps they’d gone up and down, but he’d already forgotten some of it, and—
“There’s something here you should see,” Father Sebastian said, his voice breaking into Ryan’s reverie. He put a key in the lock of an old wooden door that was set deep in the wall of the tunnel. “Come and take a look.” He pushed the door, and it swung wide, its rusty hinges creaking.
Just the sound was enough to make Ryan’s skin crawl. “I–I really need to get back to the dorm,” he stammered.
“Just a quick look,” Father Sebastian urged. “Given who you’re with, I doubt Brother Francis will be too hard on you if you’re a little late. And this is part of the school’s history. Actually, it’s one of the most interesting parts.”
Once again Ryan’s mind raced. If he insisted on going back to the dorm, they’d figure out he’d seen something. Better to pretend he wasn’t worried about anything at all, even though the hairs on the back of his neck were all standing on end, and he was overwhelmed by an urge to turn and run. But there was no choice — he had to maintain his masquerade of innocence.
The sooner he looked at whatever Father Sebastian wanted to show him, the sooner they’d be out of here. Steeling himself against the tide of apprehension that was rapidly rising around him, Ryan stepped in front of Father Laughlin and peered into the dark room.
“Go in,” Father Sebastian said. “Light a candle.” He shined the flashlight on a candle box in a niche a few feet away and the sand receptacle that stood next to it.
Ryan took two steps into the room.
The light went out.
The door slammed behind him.
Ryan wheeled around and threw his weight against the heavy wooden door, but the unmistakable sound of an old and heavy bolt being thrown echoed in the small room, and Ryan knew his act had failed.
They knew exactly what he’d seen.
The tide of apprehension of a moment ago built into a giant wave of panic, and Ryan turned with his back to the door, pressing himself hard against it as he took deep breaths, willing the panic away. After a moment, his mind cleared enough to remember that there were candles, and certainly matches, and he didn’t need to be in absolute darkness.
He felt for the chapel door behind him, trying to remember exactly where the niche with the candles was. To the left, and not very far away. Holding his hands in front of him, he groped slowly and blindly through the darkness. But after he’d taken half a dozen steps he found nothing, and hesitated. Should he try to go back to the door and start over again? But what if he couldn’t even find the door? He didn’t even know how big the room was — he might wander for hours in the blackness!
That thought alone was enough to bring his panic surging back, and a soft moan of terror rose in his throat.
