the curtains he was granted a view of blank wall and a fluorescent light—currently off. Whether it was intended to reflect the time of day, he wouldn’t know until dawn. He took a deep breath, scenting the air. All in all, it would’ve been welcoming, but for the cameras mounted in the ceiling and the underlying reek of old blood not quite concealed by furniture polish, mold, and pine-scented disinfectant. The cocktail of smells did nothing for the knots in his stomach.
Pointing upward, Liam asked, “Is that necessary?”
“You should know you’ll be filmed. Sound will be recorded as well.”
“On second thought, this is worse. At least a prison doesn’t pretend to be something it isn’t.”
“Your things are on the bed. You’ll find everything you need in the washroom and the kitchen. If you want extra blankets, or if they missed something, let me know. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Liam went to the old laundry bag resting on top of the bed. Loosening the square knot in the drawstring, it became obvious that someone had searched its contents. He’d been angry when he’d packed—more like terrified, not to put too fine a point on it. As a result, he’d stuffed his clothes in the bag without bothering about the wrinkles. Now they were neatly folded. He considered complaining, but nothing appeared to be missing. Retrieving the light blue flannel pajamas Father Murray had provided, Liam left them on the bed, tightened the drawstring on the bag and tossed it onto the floor. There was a chest of drawers made of a dark wood, but he wasn’t about to use it.
He straightened and took a long, deep breath to clear his head. Once again the scent of old blood haunted his nose. That’s when he noticed that Father Murray hadn’t moved from the doorway. Glancing over his shoulder, Liam wondered if the priest smelled it too, but it was clear by his expression there was another reason he was waiting.
“I must leave you here. Only for a little while,” Father Murray said.
“If I’m staying, so are you.”
“I’ll be back. I’ve a short conference with Bishop Avery.”
Liam’s eyes narrowed.
“It’s nothing. A briefing. Mere formality. He wanted to see me before tomorrow. While I’m there I’ll ask for a copy of the examination and testing schedule. It’s better this way. I don’t trust Father Conroy will take such requests seriously.”
“You’re going to leave me in this stinking place?”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Can’t you smell the blood?”
Father Murray’s eyes narrowed. “Blood?”
“Aye. Was quite a lot too.” Liam took another deep, slow breath. “Was some time ago. A month? Maybe two. Hard to tell, given what they cleaned it up with. Bleach. Something that smells like pine to cover. Doesn’t help much.”
“Interesting.” Father Murray looked uneasy. “I’ll keep it short. Less than an hour.”
Liam felt his jaw and shoulders tighten. His eyes burned from exhaustion, and he stifled a yawn. There were no clocks that he could see, but they hadn’t taken his watch from him, and he knew it was close to two in the morning.
“You look exhausted. Try to get some sleep,” Father Murray said.
“And if you don’t come back?”
“Stop your worrying.” Father Murray smiled but Liam sensed nervousness beneath. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Then Father Murray shut the door.
Liam listened for the lock and didn’t hear it. To be sure, he went to the bedroom door and opened it in time to see Father Murray exit the suite. Liam caught a glimpse of the guards in the hallway outside. Keys jangled, and the loud click-thump of the locking mechanism spiked Liam’s anxiety. Tired as he was, he didn’t think he could sleep. There was no television, no radio. Walking to the bookshelves in desperation, he examined the titles. All appeared to be of a religious nature. So, he returned to his room, defeated.
The only lock on the bedroom door was a deadbolt that required
Pointing upward, Liam asked, “Is that necessary?”
“You should know you’ll be filmed. Sound will be recorded as well.”
“On second thought, this is worse. At least a prison doesn’t pretend to be something it isn’t.”
“Your things are on the bed. You’ll find everything you need in the washroom and the kitchen. If you want extra blankets, or if they missed something, let me know. I’ll make the arrangements.”
Liam went to the old laundry bag resting on top of the bed. Loosening the square knot in the drawstring, it became obvious that someone had searched its contents. He’d been angry when he’d packed—more like terrified, not to put too fine a point on it. As a result, he’d stuffed his clothes in the bag without bothering about the wrinkles. Now they were neatly folded. He considered complaining, but nothing appeared to be missing. Retrieving the light blue flannel pajamas Father Murray had provided, Liam left them on the bed, tightened the drawstring on the bag and tossed it onto the floor. There was a chest of drawers made of a dark wood, but he wasn’t about to use it.
He straightened and took a long, deep breath to clear his head. Once again the scent of old blood haunted his nose. That’s when he noticed that Father Murray hadn’t moved from the doorway. Glancing over his shoulder, Liam wondered if the priest smelled it too, but it was clear by his expression there was another reason he was waiting.
“I must leave you here. Only for a little while,” Father Murray said.
“If I’m staying, so are you.”
“I’ll be back. I’ve a short conference with Bishop Avery.”
Liam’s eyes narrowed.
“It’s nothing. A briefing. Mere formality. He wanted to see me before tomorrow. While I’m there I’ll ask for a copy of the examination and testing schedule. It’s better this way. I don’t trust Father Conroy will take such requests seriously.”
“You’re going to leave me in this stinking place?”
“What are you afraid of?”
“Can’t you smell the blood?”
Father Murray’s eyes narrowed. “Blood?”
“Aye. Was quite a lot too.” Liam took another deep, slow breath. “Was some time ago. A month? Maybe two. Hard to tell, given what they cleaned it up with. Bleach. Something that smells like pine to cover. Doesn’t help much.”
“Interesting.” Father Murray looked uneasy. “I’ll keep it short. Less than an hour.”
Liam felt his jaw and shoulders tighten. His eyes burned from exhaustion, and he stifled a yawn. There were no clocks that he could see, but they hadn’t taken his watch from him, and he knew it was close to two in the morning.
“You look exhausted. Try to get some sleep,” Father Murray said.
“And if you don’t come back?”
“Stop your worrying.” Father Murray smiled but Liam sensed nervousness beneath. “I’ll see you in the morning.” Then Father Murray shut the door.
Liam listened for the lock and didn’t hear it. To be sure, he went to the bedroom door and opened it in time to see Father Murray exit the suite. Liam caught a glimpse of the guards in the hallway outside. Keys jangled, and the loud click-thump of the locking mechanism spiked Liam’s anxiety. Tired as he was, he didn’t think he could sleep. There was no television, no radio. Walking to the bookshelves in desperation, he examined the titles. All appeared to be of a religious nature. So, he returned to his room, defeated.
The only lock on the bedroom door was a deadbolt that required
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