very short, with Sheila or one of the other psychologists.
Mac had gone through five sessions with her after Claire died on 9/11. It had helped. He looked down at Danny’s hands on the keyboard. The tremor in the right hand was definitely there, but Danny managed to type, sometimes having to delete things and go back over keys.
Mac didn’t have a tremor after Claire’s death. He had a sudden pronounced tic of his right cheek. It wasn’t something he could hide. He had taken time off and seen Sheila Hellyer. The tic had gone, but its disappearance had caused him to feel a constant guilt. While it made no sense, Mac felt that the tic was a reminder, maybe even a punishment, not just for his wife’s death, but for the vanished guilt. There were times when he missed the comfort of that affliction.
A little more than a year earlier, Danny had been through a psychological evaluation after he had shot and killed a murderer who was shooting at him. At first Danny had simply seemed slightly distracted after the shooting. Gradually, he had begun to go into distant, dazed states for a minute or so. After the evaluation, Danny had gradually returned to his usual self, though the smile he had so often displayed appeared less and less.
“Fingerprints all over the crime scene,” Danny said. “Most are what you’d expect, father, mother, daughter. Other ones, two in blood on the bed, look like a kid’s, but we have no prints on record for Jacob Vorhees, though prints in his room do match. But there are some other very interesting ones.”
“Kyle Shelton,” said Mac.
“His prints are all over the daughter’s room,” said Danny. “Some of them in blood.”
“We have an address?” asked Mac.
“Yeah. Should we get a pickup order out for him?”
Mac looked at his wristwatch and said, “I’ll go on my own. You make it to your appointment with Sheila Hellyer.”
Danny nodded, resigned.
Joshua sat erect, a compact black leather Bible open in his hands. His black suit and white shirt were without wrinkles, recently cleaned. He wore no tie and was freshly shaved. He looked up over reading glasses when Aiden and Stella entered the room. He had been waiting for them.
The two women sat across from him. Joshua closed the book and put it in his jacket pocket.
Aiden put the printout on the table. Joshua didn’t look at it.
“Your shoes had sawdust on them,” said Stella. “The sawdust matches the dust at the murder scene.”
“Aren’t you supposed to tell me now that I can have a lawyer?” he asked.
“You’re not under arrest,” said Stella. “But if you want a lawyer…”
Joshua shook his head “no.”
“I was there yesterday,” he said. “I went into that room and left a message on the wall: ‘Christ is King of the Jews.’ I did not criminally trespass. The doors to the synagogue were open. It is a house of worship. I did not deface property. The paint I used is easily washed off.”
“Then let’s try harassment,” said Aiden.
“I welcome it,” said Joshua. “A reprimand from a judge. Publicity for our beliefs. There is an evil among us, the devil. ’Be sober. Be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walks about, seeing whom he may devour.’ I Peter. Chapter five. Verse seven.”
“Verse eight,” said Stella.
Joshua looked up. Their eyes met. He took the Bible from his pocket, flipped through the pages, found what he was looking for and said, “Verse eight.”
“When you read it almost every day, you don’t forget,” said Stella.
“Nuns, priests?” Joshua asked, his voice betraying a slight quiver as he wondered who had influenced her.
Stella didn’t answer. There were lots of things Stella didn’t forget. She had been one year old when she went into the city institute for orphans. When she was old enough, she was told that her father had abandoned her mother and his newborn baby and gone back to Greece, where he died in a knife fight in a bar.
Mac had gone through five sessions with her after Claire died on 9/11. It had helped. He looked down at Danny’s hands on the keyboard. The tremor in the right hand was definitely there, but Danny managed to type, sometimes having to delete things and go back over keys.
Mac didn’t have a tremor after Claire’s death. He had a sudden pronounced tic of his right cheek. It wasn’t something he could hide. He had taken time off and seen Sheila Hellyer. The tic had gone, but its disappearance had caused him to feel a constant guilt. While it made no sense, Mac felt that the tic was a reminder, maybe even a punishment, not just for his wife’s death, but for the vanished guilt. There were times when he missed the comfort of that affliction.
A little more than a year earlier, Danny had been through a psychological evaluation after he had shot and killed a murderer who was shooting at him. At first Danny had simply seemed slightly distracted after the shooting. Gradually, he had begun to go into distant, dazed states for a minute or so. After the evaluation, Danny had gradually returned to his usual self, though the smile he had so often displayed appeared less and less.
“Fingerprints all over the crime scene,” Danny said. “Most are what you’d expect, father, mother, daughter. Other ones, two in blood on the bed, look like a kid’s, but we have no prints on record for Jacob Vorhees, though prints in his room do match. But there are some other very interesting ones.”
“Kyle Shelton,” said Mac.
“His prints are all over the daughter’s room,” said Danny. “Some of them in blood.”
“We have an address?” asked Mac.
“Yeah. Should we get a pickup order out for him?”
Mac looked at his wristwatch and said, “I’ll go on my own. You make it to your appointment with Sheila Hellyer.”
Danny nodded, resigned.
Joshua sat erect, a compact black leather Bible open in his hands. His black suit and white shirt were without wrinkles, recently cleaned. He wore no tie and was freshly shaved. He looked up over reading glasses when Aiden and Stella entered the room. He had been waiting for them.
The two women sat across from him. Joshua closed the book and put it in his jacket pocket.
Aiden put the printout on the table. Joshua didn’t look at it.
“Your shoes had sawdust on them,” said Stella. “The sawdust matches the dust at the murder scene.”
“Aren’t you supposed to tell me now that I can have a lawyer?” he asked.
“You’re not under arrest,” said Stella. “But if you want a lawyer…”
Joshua shook his head “no.”
“I was there yesterday,” he said. “I went into that room and left a message on the wall: ‘Christ is King of the Jews.’ I did not criminally trespass. The doors to the synagogue were open. It is a house of worship. I did not deface property. The paint I used is easily washed off.”
“Then let’s try harassment,” said Aiden.
“I welcome it,” said Joshua. “A reprimand from a judge. Publicity for our beliefs. There is an evil among us, the devil. ’Be sober. Be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walks about, seeing whom he may devour.’ I Peter. Chapter five. Verse seven.”
“Verse eight,” said Stella.
Joshua looked up. Their eyes met. He took the Bible from his pocket, flipped through the pages, found what he was looking for and said, “Verse eight.”
“When you read it almost every day, you don’t forget,” said Stella.
“Nuns, priests?” Joshua asked, his voice betraying a slight quiver as he wondered who had influenced her.
Stella didn’t answer. There were lots of things Stella didn’t forget. She had been one year old when she went into the city institute for orphans. When she was old enough, she was told that her father had abandoned her mother and his newborn baby and gone back to Greece, where he died in a knife fight in a bar.
Similar Books
