“I can’t,” she said. “Can’t judge you without judging myself. I’m no saint either.”
She’d had more than her fair share of underage lovers, after all. For some reason it didn’t seem so bad with a teenaged boy dying to lose his cherry to a sexy, experienced older woman. But now she had to wonder…if she could give the keys for the time machine to Wes or Noah or Michael, would they take them? Would they take them and go back and turn left when they would have turned right and met her?
She had to wonder.
Her phone buzzed with a message. She glanced at it.
“Cyrus,” she said. “He’s on his way over.”
“I’ll let him in.” He started to leave. “I remember rocking you, after we’d saved you and you were too scared to sleep. Do you remember that night?”
“Of course I remember. I remember you offering to die for me, too. And you would have.”
“I would have. I would again. Now.”
“Is that what Father Ike did? He died to save Melody? Was it really suicide or was he killing the man who was going to hurt her? Is he a hero? Is he a monster? Was killing himself heroic? Or was it cowardly?”
“I don’t know,” Søren said.
“You’re supposed to know. You’re a fucking priest.”
“A priest, not God,” he said. “I don’t know, Eleanor. I wish to God I did. But this I believe—God was in that room with him when Father Murran died. And wherever he is right now—heaven, hell, or purgatory—he can’t hurt anyone anymore.”
She looked up at him. “Then why does it hurt?”
Søren reached out to touch her face.
“Please don’t,” Nora whispered, moving her head away from his hand. “Not yet.”
She’d said “Not yet,” but what she meant was “Not you.” She didn’t want him touching her. Not him. Not any man. And the one person she did want wasn’t there…and would never be there again.
He pulled back his hand. “Of course.”
“Sorry.”
The doorbell rang.
Chapter Forty-Three
“Drink?” Nora asked Cyrus. They were in the sitting room, the same one they’d sat in together a week ago when he’d first come here asking about Father Ike. Only a week ago. Felt like ten years.
“Please,” he said. “A big one.”
She poured him a double whiskey, poured one for herself.
Last time they had talked in that room, Cyrus had taken the chair, as far from Nora on the sofa as possible. Now they sat together on the sofa, facing each other.
“Tell me the bad news first,” she said, clutching her highball glass in both hands, scared she’d drop it.
“No, good news first. Detective Naylor says he never touched her,” Cyrus said. “Pretty clear he was planning to, but he hadn’t yet. Except for a couple long hugs, he never raped or molested the girl.”
Nora exhaled so hard she almost fainted. All the air just whooshed right out of her. Her whole body sagged with relief. And for no reason she could name, she started to cry.
“Keep talking,” she said to Cyrus. “Please.”
“That’s the good news. Best news,” Cyrus said. “Detective Naylor said Melody’s mother had no clue at all that her daughter had formed a ‘friendship’ with Father Ike. She’d only met him a couple times at school. They think Ike started hanging out at the house on Annunciation just because it was two blocks from Melody’s house. He’d given her the keys to wait in his car parked by her house. When he didn’t show up by six in the morning to take her to Grand Isle, she walked to the house to see where he was.”
“Dead.”
“Dead for over six hours by then. They’re trying to keep as much as they can from Melody. She doesn’t know about the stuff in the trunk, or the house he rented for two months where he was going to keep her.”
Nora took a long shuddering breath.
“Go on.”
“So there was no crime committed,” Cyrus said. “Nothing really for the cops to do but have a good long talk with Melody’s mother. They may let Melody get some counseling, maybe find an aunt or somebody to spend more time with her. Lonely kids with busy parents got targets on their backs.”
“I know,” Nora said. “I was one of those kids, too. Go on.”
“Like I said, no crime committed. Nothing to do now. That’s the bad news. We know what happened. We know why he killed himself. It’s over.”
Nora put her drink down.
“Over? It can’t be over.”
“The cops can’t arrest a dead man, Nora. What do you want them to do?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “But not nothing.”
They sat in silence and drank their drinks.
“I’m sorry,” Cyrus said.
“I thought it would fun, you know, solving a case.”
“It’s not the Sunday crossword.”
“I know. I know. I didn’t know,” she said. “Now I know.”
Nora looked up when she heard the sound of doors opening and closing, hushed voices whispering. Kingsley walked past the sitting room, and when he saw them in there, came inside. Nora had to smile. Céleste was passed out on Kingsley’s shoulder. She had a habit of falling asleep on any drive that lasted longer than five minutes.
“What’s going on?” Kingsley asked, his voice half a whisper.
“Just talking about the case,” Nora said, wiping her face.
Juliette followed him into the room, with Søren close behind. Nora saw Cyrus sit up a little straighter when Juliette made her entrance.
“Evening, ma’am,” Cyrus said to her, with a wide smile. Nora lightly punched him in the shoulder. Juliette pretended not to see Nora’s reprimand, though there was a twinkle in her eyes.
“I can take our daughter to her room,” Juliette said to Kingsley. Kingsley had sunk into the big armchair. Céleste, still on his shoulder, hadn’t stirred a muscle.
“She’s out, she’s fine,” he said to Juliette. “What’s the news?” Kingsley asked Cyrus and Nora.
Nora looked at Cyrus, who nodded. She told everyone everything.
Søren sat on the edge of the love seat, elbows on knees, hands clasped between, and head down as if praying. Juliette sat next to him, arm over her stomach like it was a shelf, head on her hand, elbow on the back of the seat. Kingsley listened intently and made no comment and showed no emotion. But Nora saw him drop a kiss onto his daughter’s sleeping head while they quietly recounted the events of the week.
“So it’s over,” Nora said at the end. “We figured it out but the police can’t do anything with it.”
“Would you want them to?” Kingsley asked.
“Maybe,” Nora said. “Like Cyrus said, Archbishop Dunn had told the police not to bother with an investigation. That’s why they asked Cyrus to look into it. What if they knew something?”
Søren raised his head. “Even if Father Isaac had confessed his plan to the archbishop, he wouldn’t be allowed to tell anyone or act on that knowledge.”