“Unresponsive.”
“Yes, detective. Unresponsive, so you see why I couldn’t come down to talk to you at the station.”
Lynch let her calm down and allowed what he had just heard to sink in. Could Reilly have helped with the beating? He went through the previous evening’s events in sequence. When did Reilly leave the squad room? He suddenly had a sharp recollection of the odor of mint tea. Indeed, Reilly stormed out right after he heard about Ryan.
Keep me in the loop! You hear me! In the loop!
Lynch didn’t see him again until he got to the barn. Suddenly a chill darted up his back. There was something else. Reilly said something at the crime scene. It meant nothing at the time, but now…
“Did anyone else see this happen?”
“The intern…I mean the guy at the desk. I don’t know what he’s called. I’m pretty sure he saw.”
“Okay, that means we won’t need you as a witness if it comes to it. You hear me?”
He handed her his napkin so that she could wipe her eyes. She took it and nodded.
“Good. Now, I’m not going to jump to any conclusions with this. I’m just going to take what you told me and start asking some questions. I think that’s all you want anyway. Right?”
“No. I want you to burn those sons of bitches!”
“If they had anything to do with Jeremy’s beating, they’ll burn. I promise.”
He hesitated.
“What else can you tell me about Samuel?”
“Nothing. I told you everything last night.”
He was dying to call bullshit.
“Anything would help. Just a way to get his last name would help. Did he work? Could I talk to his boss? How did he join the UJ?”
“I’m not sure. I think he and Arthur met at the Iron Wall. Work? I think he mentioned running errands for a photographer, but that was a couple years ago.”
“You mean like a P.A.?”
“I don’t know. I’m so fuckin’ exhausted I can barely remember my own name.”
They sat for a while. Then Kelly sniffled, offered her gratitude with a refreshingly firm handshake, and left. Lynch remained at the café table sitting in the middle of a cop’s worst nightmare. He finished off his coffee and considered going over to the station. The drive would give him time to think. His phone buzzed. It was Julie’s latest text message. It came with a picture.
Holy mother of…!
Reilly could wait.
8. Uncle Walter’s Woods
Philip lay flat on his back, looking up at the tree where he was perched the minute before. A few feet from his head was the bottom part of his uncle’s tree stand.
Yup, that was embarrassing. I’m reasonably intelligent. Why is this so damned difficult?
In the end, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to actually use the tree stand. He just needed to see the basic design. Though this fact didn’t make his back hurt less.
“Pruners! I’ll need pruners!”
9. En Route to St. Matthew’s
Father Aiden O’Rourke had screwed up. He knew it, and he was pretty sure he was about to be told how badly. He was just helping out a family friend. At least that’s what it felt like at the time. What else could he do? Reilly was shaking with rage over Bishop Ryan’s murder. Aiden simply answered his question:
“What do you guys know about it?”
What could Aiden tell a cop that he didn’t already know? That night…Saturday…standing in the rectory’s front door, the young priest repeated what Leo said about the surveillance footage. He told Reilly about the black trench coat and how they all recognized it from the neighborhood. He told Reilly about the Unjudged, and divulged that he knew where the gang hung out on weekends. He had more to say, but he didn’t get the chance. The instant Reilly heard about the barn, he slapped his phone to his ear and rushed off towards his car, whispering angrily all the way.
Uneasily, the young priest shut the chapel door and returned to the meeting with Fathers Karney and Pascucci, the rest of which was a blur.
Now he was headed to the Pastor’s office at St. Matthew’s. He’d been summoned by the Archbishop. This was not good. He knew nothing of the law. He didn’t know what possible ramifications could exist for his actions. He maniacally flip-flopped between believing what he did was no big deal and envisioning himself being removed from the priesthood.
He parked and exited his car. There was someone practicing on the sanctuary organ. Aiden could hear it from the parking lot. He felt himself getting smaller with each step he took towards the church entrance. He wasn’t sure where the office was. He piled disorientation onto his fragile mental state and started to sweat. The entrance was locked. He pressed the buzzer, and a familiar voice boomed out of the intercom.
“Father O’Rourke?”
“Yes, Your Grace. I’m a little early.”
“Excellent. Come one in. The office is to the right after you walk in. Father Pascucci will flag you down.”
The door clicked. Aiden entered. As he turned right, he silently observed how all the churches on Prospect Street smell the same. Indeed, Leo was down the hall motioning Aiden forward. He was smiling.
A minute later, Aiden was seated at the head of a hand-carved meeting table facing two men each of whom possessed the power to ruin him if he so chose. They had already exchanged pleasantries and had moved on to intimidating silence.
The Archbishop turned to Leo and nodded. Leo spoke.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush here, Aiden. You’re about to be used, and you’re not going to have much choice in the matter. Are you okay with that?”
The two seasoned men on either side of the table watched as the confused expression on the young priest’s face morphed into a smile.
“Well, sure…as long as you put it that way.”
The smile was mistaken for one of enthusiasm, rather than what it was: relief over not getting shit-canned.
10. Still Uncle Walter’s Woods
Philip stood looking up at the
