Father Ramon opens his driver’s-side door then addresses Paige. “Paige, may I speak with you?”
Reluctantly, she exits the car. In the passenger’s-side mirror, I can see them talking at the rear of the car. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but from the shaking of her head, I know she’s reluctant to leave.
It’s hard to say no to Ramon. He has a calm, reassuring voice—a voice of certainty and reason that’s difficult to contest. It’s what makes him a good priest and an excellent exorcist. Father Ramon has attempted five exorcisms on me and conducted three confessions, and not once has he let Dudley take control of me. Though we have been unsuccessful in expelling the demon from my body, Ramon is the only priest who’s been able to keep it in check. I trust Paige with my life, but I trust Father Ramon with my soul.
Whatever he says makes its way through to her. She turns and starts hiking up the dirt road. The rear hatch opens, and Ramon starts digging around. We’re actually going to do this.
I wrap the lap belt around both my wrists then pull until the safety lock engages. My heart is racing, anticipating what’s going to come next. I hope it stays under one hundred ninety beats per minute.
The rear hatch slams shut. Ramon’s footsteps crunch on the dirt road as he makes his way to the passenger side. I take deep, measured breaths to stay calm—a little trick I learned watching Lamaze videos on YouTube.
The door opens. Ramon has a bible in his hand and his purple stole wrapped around his shoulders.
“Oh shit,” I mutter, unable to control myself. My body tenses from anxiety, trying to steel itself for the experience.
Ramon grabs my seat and pulls it forward, further tightening the belt. “Ready?”
“Yes.” I shake my head. Nope.
He crosses himself, and my stomach twists like the worst cramps I’ve ever had.
“In nomine Patris et Filii et Spiritus Sancti…”
He’s doing it in Latin. Shit.
I scream. It’s so loud my throat strains and cracks. My body writhes in the confines of the seat belt, twisting and turning. I close my eyes, trying to block out the pain.
Father Ramon presses his hand firmly on my chest. It burns as if it’s searing my flesh. The overwhelming pressure keeps me trapped in my seat. The pain courses through me, but I’m unable to move from beneath his grasp.
The alarm on my watch goes off. My heart rate is now over one hundred sixty BPM. This is par for the course, and I know Father Ramon will be able to keep Dudley at bay. He always has.
“Deus meus, ex toto corde pænitet
“Me omnium meorum peccatorum
“Eaque detestor, quia peccando.”
An inhuman wail escapes my lips. It’s agonizing, and I scream the whole time. The taste of blood pools on my tongue.
“Non solum pœnas a te
“Juste statutas promeritus sum.”
I keep screaming. How Father Ramon manages to keep performing the prayer is a mystery, because I scream for a solid five minutes, and I don’t stop until he says his final “Amen.” Then I pass out.
* * *
It’s dark when I wake up. I look at my alarm clock to see it’s 3:33 a.m. Perfect.
I don’t remember what happened after the confession. I don’t remember how I got home or how I got into bed. Knowing Paige, she probably drove me home, threw me over her shoulder like a lumberjack, carried me upstairs, and tossed me into bed.
My muscles ache, and my throat is sore, probably from all the screaming. On a lark, I sit up and look at my nightstand. Sitting there are a full glass of water and two aspirin.
Thank you, Paige. I take the aspirin, drink the water, and go back to sleep.
Chapter 20
____◊____
LUPE’S FUNERAL IS AT the Westwood Memorial Cemetery. It’s a strange little burial ground, small and unassuming, just a patch of green grass surrounded by skyscrapers amid the Wilshire Corridor. That suits me just fine. I stand on the roof of a nearby parking structure with a bird’s-eye view of the ceremony. I want to be here, but since I’m unable to stand on cemetery grounds, this is the closest I can get. Out of respect, I wear my best outfit—a black pantsuit with my thick wool overcoat and pumps.
It’s an intimate ceremony with maybe thirty people in attendance. I recognize a few coworkers as well as Paige, who’s wearing a modest black flare dress. Lupe’s son stands at the head of the casket, saying a few words that I can’t hear.
I scan the rest of the cemetery. David Resnick and Ed Snyder stand a respectful distance away. Once again, Snyder is clutching his daily can of sugar and caffeine. For a change, both are wearing black suits. I can’t help but notice this is yet another new suit for David. Maybe Ed finally convinced him to update his wardrobe.
They stand near David’s blue Dodge Charger, his police-issued cruiser. That means they’re here on official business. It could also mean they’re looking for me.
The services conclude, and the attendees slowly make their way past Lupe’s son to offer final condolences. As the people head back to their cars, David intercepts Paige. They exchange a few words, marked mostly by Paige shaking her head.
Finally, she moves past him. When no one else is around, it looks like Snyder starts reprimanding David, who takes it on the chin, nodding and listening. Snyder ducks into the passenger side of the car and disappears. David does a quick check of the area—no one is around, so I’m the only one who sees him flip off Snyder before he slips into the driver’s side.
I head down the stairwell to my car on level three. The last of the other guests’ cars are pulling away when I hear the click of Paige’s heels echoing in
