book.”
“Because he didn’t kill her. He couldn’t have and you know it. It’s obvious they’ve both been attacked.”
“With all due respect, Sister,” Steve said, “Tammy’s been murdered, not attacked. And all he’s got is a bump on the head and a few scratches.”
“I’m telling you,” she said, “he didn’t kill her.”
“I know it’s hard for you to accept,” Steve said, his voice patronizing, “but I’m telling you what the facts say.”
“The facts?”
“The evidence, the crime scene,” he said. “I’ve been doing this a while and—”
“I’m telling you he didn’t do it,” she said. “And it’s not just that he wouldn’t, but that he
couldn’t
. He’s not capable.”
“That’s what everyone always believes about people they know, but—”
She shook her head in frustration. “Listen to me, please, and be quiet. I’m not talking about morally. I’m saying physically. Physically he couldn’t do it. This is supposed to be a secret so please don’t tell anyone, but Father Thomas is very sick. He doesn’t have long to live. He doesn’t have the strength to do what has been done to this poor girl.”
Steve shook his head in disbelief. “What’re you saying?”
“That you better come up with a different theory to fit your facts, because Tom couldn’t have done this and his doctor will testify to it.”
Chapter Twelve
“Don’t say a word,” Ralph Reid said to Father Thomas.
Father Thomas had just regained consciousness a moment before and was about to respond to Steve Taylor’s first question when Reid intervened.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Steve said.
The crime scene techs from FDLE taking measurements and collecting evidence all around us stopped momentarily to listen. There were six of them, wearing white jumpsuits, latex gloves, and vinyl slip-on booties over their shoes with the identifying “Police” pattern in the print. They worked quickly and quietly, seemingly oblivious to us until now.
“As counsel, I’m advising him not to talk to you yet,” Reid said.
“You’re an attorney?”
“Among other things.”
“I don’t need an attorney,” Father Thomas mumbled.
He was lying on a stretcher being examined by the same female EMT I had seen on the pier the previous morning. We were all standing around him. Across the clearing Tammy’s body, still facedown on the damp ground, had been covered with a white sheet.
“Oh, yes you do,” Reid said. “They think you killed Tammy.”
Father Thomas’s eyes widened. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I—”
“Need to talk with me before you talk with them. Do you want me to represent you or not?”
Father Thomas looked up at Sister Abigail, his eyes searching hers for reassurance.
“Let him, Tom,” she said.
“Is that the way you want it?” Steve asked. “‘Cause I can’t help you if you lawyer up—and doing it so quickly only makes you look guilty.”
“See what I mean?” Reid said. “That’s the mentality you’re up against.”
The night air was cold and moist, clumps of fog clinging to the bare branches above us. Beyond the clearing the woods were loud, as if to remind us we were trespassing into a living, largely unseen world we no longer belonged to.
“He works for Tammy’s family’s company,” Steve said.
“And
he’s
part of the family,” Reid said, jerking his head toward Steve, “but for now, we’re the only players in this little drama. You can get another attorney later if you want to, but at least let me help you through these crucial first hours.”
Father Thomas nodded. “Okay,” he said, “but I didn’t kill her.”
“Then just tell us what happened,” Steve said.
Father Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but Reid said, “Later. At the station. Let him get checked out at the medical center and give me a chance to confer with him, then we’ll cooperate fully.”
Father Thomas closed his mouth and nodded his
“Because he didn’t kill her. He couldn’t have and you know it. It’s obvious they’ve both been attacked.”
“With all due respect, Sister,” Steve said, “Tammy’s been murdered, not attacked. And all he’s got is a bump on the head and a few scratches.”
“I’m telling you,” she said, “he didn’t kill her.”
“I know it’s hard for you to accept,” Steve said, his voice patronizing, “but I’m telling you what the facts say.”
“The facts?”
“The evidence, the crime scene,” he said. “I’ve been doing this a while and—”
“I’m telling you he didn’t do it,” she said. “And it’s not just that he wouldn’t, but that he
couldn’t
. He’s not capable.”
“That’s what everyone always believes about people they know, but—”
She shook her head in frustration. “Listen to me, please, and be quiet. I’m not talking about morally. I’m saying physically. Physically he couldn’t do it. This is supposed to be a secret so please don’t tell anyone, but Father Thomas is very sick. He doesn’t have long to live. He doesn’t have the strength to do what has been done to this poor girl.”
Steve shook his head in disbelief. “What’re you saying?”
“That you better come up with a different theory to fit your facts, because Tom couldn’t have done this and his doctor will testify to it.”
Chapter Twelve
“Don’t say a word,” Ralph Reid said to Father Thomas.
Father Thomas had just regained consciousness a moment before and was about to respond to Steve Taylor’s first question when Reid intervened.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Steve said.
The crime scene techs from FDLE taking measurements and collecting evidence all around us stopped momentarily to listen. There were six of them, wearing white jumpsuits, latex gloves, and vinyl slip-on booties over their shoes with the identifying “Police” pattern in the print. They worked quickly and quietly, seemingly oblivious to us until now.
“As counsel, I’m advising him not to talk to you yet,” Reid said.
“You’re an attorney?”
“Among other things.”
“I don’t need an attorney,” Father Thomas mumbled.
He was lying on a stretcher being examined by the same female EMT I had seen on the pier the previous morning. We were all standing around him. Across the clearing Tammy’s body, still facedown on the damp ground, had been covered with a white sheet.
“Oh, yes you do,” Reid said. “They think you killed Tammy.”
Father Thomas’s eyes widened. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I—”
“Need to talk with me before you talk with them. Do you want me to represent you or not?”
Father Thomas looked up at Sister Abigail, his eyes searching hers for reassurance.
“Let him, Tom,” she said.
“Is that the way you want it?” Steve asked. “‘Cause I can’t help you if you lawyer up—and doing it so quickly only makes you look guilty.”
“See what I mean?” Reid said. “That’s the mentality you’re up against.”
The night air was cold and moist, clumps of fog clinging to the bare branches above us. Beyond the clearing the woods were loud, as if to remind us we were trespassing into a living, largely unseen world we no longer belonged to.
“He works for Tammy’s family’s company,” Steve said.
“And
he’s
part of the family,” Reid said, jerking his head toward Steve, “but for now, we’re the only players in this little drama. You can get another attorney later if you want to, but at least let me help you through these crucial first hours.”
Father Thomas nodded. “Okay,” he said, “but I didn’t kill her.”
“Then just tell us what happened,” Steve said.
Father Thomas opened his mouth to speak, but Reid said, “Later. At the station. Let him get checked out at the medical center and give me a chance to confer with him, then we’ll cooperate fully.”
Father Thomas closed his mouth and nodded his
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