Silent Witness by Richard North Patterson Page B

existed nowhere in life.
    When Sam stepped to the podium, Tony saw the sweat on his forehead, felt Sue’s tense fingers curling around his. Sam seemed to swallow. ‘Last night,’ he said in a shaky voice, ‘I really wasn’t ready for this.’
    Tony saw Sue’s eyes close. Pausing, Sam seemed unsteady. ‘I was waiting to be filled with the spirit of the Lord. Instead I began feeling sick . . .’
    â€˜What is he doing?’ Sue whispered.
    â€˜Then I listened to some beautiful music, about the beauty of God’s rain falling on God’s creations, and found myself saying to my friend Tony Lord, “Tony, you just can’t do it alone . . .
    â€˜â€œTony,” I said, “you can’t find life’s joys without a partner. Someone you can feel deep inside . . .”’
    Jesus fucking Christ .
    â€˜â€œAnd that can only be”’ – here Sam paused, giving Tony a small smile of moral superiority – ‘“God.”’
    With a kind of fascination, Tony stared back.
    â€˜God,’ Sam intoned, ‘is the way to fulfillment, to thawing the coldness around us, of realizing our deepest desires in the deepest possible way.
    â€˜God is the climax of our lives.’
    Tony recognized the hushed intensity – it was, to the life, the manner of Richard Burton’s ultimate sermon in The Sandpiper . But he was not reading Tony’s speech.
    â€˜God alone can touch us where we most need to be touched.’
    Tensing, Tony wondered when everyone else would get the joke. But when he glanced around, the congregation was attentive, unsmiling. Sam grew more vibrant.
    â€˜God alone can relieve our suffering.
    â€˜God alone can fill the empty places.’
    God alone , Tony thought, can make our toes and fingers numb .
    â€˜God alone,’ Sam said softly, ‘can give us what we really need.’
    Sam, Tony saw, was even more pale. He gripped the podium tighter and spoke in his own voice. ‘I should finish now, ’cause I don’t want to go on too long. But I can’t tell you what a comfort that feeling was to me – I hope to Tony too. Maybe even to all of you.’ He paused, as if in search of inspiration, and then finished. ‘Because I know what I need to do. What I think we all need to do. In the words of the old hymn, “Rock of Ages, cleft for me. Let me find myself in thee.”’
    He sat abruptly. The effect was one of extreme preoccupation; Tony guessed that Sam was close to becoming sick.
    Moving behind him, a teen choir began singing.
    Sue bit her lip, and then Tony saw the tears in her eyes. ‘You’ve got to get him out of here, Tony. Before something happens.’
    â€˜I know.’
    The choir finished; mercifully, the pastor said a prayer and invited everyone inside for coffee and orange juice. As they stood, Sue’s father turned and remarked to Tony affably, ‘That was pretty good. Actually, Sam surprised me some.’
    â€˜Me too.’
    Quickly, he said goodbye to Sue and went to Sam.
    Sam stood with his head bent over, listening to a husband and wife, who, in Tony’s mind, were most notable for refusing to let their daughter date Catholics. ‘Sam,’ the husband said seriously, ‘I don’t want to put pressure on you. But you may have a calling here . . .’
    â€˜Excuse me,’ Tony cut in, and turned to Sam. ‘You promised to go to Mass with me, remember? I don’t want us to be late.’
    The man’s hawk-faced wife shot Tony a sharp look of irritation. Ignoring her, Tony grasped Sam by the elbow and hustled him across the lawn with such hurry that no one interrupted them.
    They got in the car. Swiftly, Tony cranked down the windows and drove away. Sam leaned forward, breathing hard.
    â€˜Never again,’ Tony said. ‘Never again.’
    Sam did not answer. Tony drove quickly down Erie