I tried to imagine what it would be like to be Shay-easily confused and unable to communicate well-and to suddenly have a pistol thrust in my face.
I would have panicked, too.
'There were sirens,' Shay said. 'He'd called them in. He said they were coming for me and that no cop would believe any story from a freak like me. She was screaming, 'Don't shoot, don't shoot.' He said,
'Get over here, Elizabeth,' and I grabbed the gun so he couldn't hurt her and we were fighting and both our hands were on it and it went off and went off again.' He swallowed. 'I caught her. The blood, it was everywhere; it was on me, it was on her. He kept calling her name but she wouldn't look at him. She stared at me, like we were playing our game; she stared at me, except it wasn't a game... and then even though her eyes were open, she stopped staring. And it was over even though I didn't smile.' He choked on a sob, pressed his hand against his mouth. 'I didn't smile.'
'Shay,' I said softly.
He glanced up at me. 'She was better off dead.'
My mouth went dry. I remembered Shay saying that same sentence to June Nealon at the restorative justice meeting, her storming out of the room in tears. But what if we'd taken Shay's words out of context?
What if he truly believed Elizabeth's death was a blessing, after what she'd suffered at the hands of her stepfather?
Something snagged in the back of my mind, a splinter of memory.
'Her underpants,' I said. 'You had them in your pocket.'
Shay stared at me as if I were an idiot. 'Well, that's because she didn't have a chance to put them back on yet, before everything else happened.'
The Shay I had grown to know was a man who could close an open wound with a brush of his hand, yet who also might have a breakdown if the mashed potatoes in his meal platter were more yellow than the day before. That Shay would not see anything suspicious about the police finding a little girl's underwear in his possession; it would make perfect sense to him to grab them when he grabbed
Elizabeth, for the sake of her modesty.
'Are you telling me the shootings were accidental?'
'I never said I was guilty,' he answered.
The pundits who downplayed Shay's miracles were always quick to point out that if God were to return to earth. He wouldn't choose to be a murderer. But what if He hadn't? What if the whole situation had been misunderstood; what if Shay had not willfully, intentionally killed
Elizabeth Nealon and her stepfather-but in fact had been trying to save her from him?
It would mean that Shay was about to die for someone else's sins.
Again.
'Not a good time,' Maggie said when she came to the door.
'It's an emergency.'
Then call the cops. Or pick up your red phone and dial God directly.
I'll give you a call tomorrow morning.' She started to close the door, but I stuck my foot inside.
'Is everything all right?' A man with a British accent was suddenly standing beside Maggie, who had turned beet red.
'Father Michael,' she said. 'This is Christian Gallagher.'
He held out his hand to me. 'Father. I've heard all about you.'
I hoped not. I mean, if Maggie was having a date, clearly there were better topics of conversation.
'So,' Christian asked amiably. 'Where's the fire?'
I felt heat rising to the back of my neck. In the background, I could hear soft music playing; there was half a glass of red wine in the man's hand. There was no fire; it was already burning, and I had just thrown a bucket of sand on it. I'm sorry. I didn't mean-' I stepped backward.
'Have a nice night.'
I heard the door close behind me, but instead of walking to my bike, I sat down on the front stoop. The first time I'd met Shay, I'd told him that you can't be lonely if God is with you all the time, but that wasn't entirely true. He's lousy at checkers, Shay had said. Well, you couldn't take God out to a movie on a Friday night, either. I knew that I could fill the space a companion normally would with God; and it was more than enough. But that wasn't to say I didn't feel that phantom limb sometimes.
The door opened, and into the slice of light stepped Maggie. She was barefoot, and she had her power-suit coat draped over her shoulders.
I'm sorry,' I said. 'I didn't mean to ruin your night.'
'That's okay. I should have known better than to assume all the planets had aligned for me.' She sank down beside me. 'What's up?'
In the dark, with her face lit in profile by the moon, she was as beautiful as any Renaissance Madonna. It struck me that God had chosen someone just like Maggie when He picked Mary to bear His
Son: someone willing to take the weight of the world on her shoulders, even when it wasn't her own burden. 'It's Shay,' I said. 'I think he's innocent.'
Maggie
I was not particularly surprised to hear what Shay Bourne had told the priest.
No, what surprised me was how fervently he'd fallen for it-hook, line, and sinker.
'It's not about protecting Shay's rights anymore,' Michael said. 'Or letting him die on his own terms. We're talking about an innocent man being killed.'
We had moved into the living room, and Christian-well, he was sitting on the other end of the couch pretending to do a Sudoku puzzle in the newspaper, but actually listening to every word we said. He'd been the one to come outside and invite me back into my own home. I fully intended to pop Father Michael's bubble of incensed righteousness and get back to the spot I'd been in before he arrived.
Which was flat on my back, with Christian's hand moving over my side, showing me where you made the incision to remove a gallbladder-something that, in person, was far more exciting than it sounds.
'He's a convicted murderer,' I said. 'They learn how to lie before they learn how to walk.'
'Maybe he never should have been convicted,' Michael said.
'You were on the jury that found him guilty!'
Christian's head snapped up. 'You were?'
'Welcome to my life,' I sighed. 'Father, you sat through days of testimony.
You saw the evidence firsthand.'
'I know. But that was before he told me that he walked in on Kurt
Nealon molesting his own stepdaughter; and that the gun went off repeatedly while he was struggling to get it out of Kurt's hand.'
At that, Christian leaned forward. 'Well. That makes him a bit of a hero, doesn't it?'
'Not when he still kills the girl he's trying to rescue,' I said. 'And why, pray tell, did he not gift his defense attorney with this information?'
'He said he tried, but the lawyer didn't think it would fly.'
'Well, gee,' I said. 'Doesn't that speak volumes?'
'Maggie, you know Shay. He doesn't look like a clean-cut American boy, and he didn't back then, either. Plus, he'd been found with a smoking gun, and a dead cop and girl in front of him. Even if he told the truth, who would have listened? Who's more likely to be cast as a pedophile- the heroic cop and consummate family man... or the sketchy vagrant who was doing work in the house? Shay was doomed before he ever walked into a courtroom.'
'Why would he take the blame for someone else's crime?' I argued.
'Why not tell someone-anyone-in eleven years?'
He shook his head. 'I don't know the answer to that. But I'd like to keep him alive long enough to find out.' Father Michael glanced at me.
'You're the one who says the legal system doesn't always work for everyone.
