Deliver Us From Evil Part 16

"Why?"

"I need to know."

"Does this prove your satanic ritual theory?"

"I never believed it was a satanic ritual," Anthony said. Not in the way Rod did.

"Altar." He closed his eyes as if mentally going through files, then opened them and said, "Hatch, forty-seven, six foot even, one hundred eighty-six pounds."

A sick feeling crept in.

"Does that mean something?"

"Yes." Anthony frowned.

"What?"

"Do you have the time of death for all the men?"

"Time of death is an inexact science. We established they all died between four and five Monday morning."

"Do you know in what order they died?"

"Three or four fatal fights broke out at once. I can tell based on blood spatter and foreign material in each body who was stabbed first, for example, but I don't know the exact time they died. Not until we finish the autopsies, and even then we're talking about minutes apart."

"What about the man on the altar?"

"I can look it up at the office. Why? What do you think happened?"

"I need to know if he was the last to die. I need to know how he died."

Rod stared at him for a long minute. "Skye would have my job if she knew I was telling you this. The guy on the altar had been stabbed in the shoulder, but that's not what killed him. The wound was superficial. He died of a heart attack."

"He was young."

"Forty-seven isn't too young for a heart attack. I've had victims as young as thirty-five on the table. But-" He stopped.

"What?"

"He had a healthy heart. No sign of an attack. His heart just-stopped."

Because the demon tried to possess him. And something happened.

Had Rafe interrupted the process? Did Hatch have a change of heart? Right now, Anthony believed Jeremiah Hatch was intimately involved in the ma.s.sacre. He had to have been one of the three. He sat on the altar watching the violence. Waiting. To willingly give up his soul. If Ianax has a willing human possession, he becomes twice as powerful than if he has to fight his way in. A willing human gained the immortality of the demon as long as they were united.

Walk with the willing dead.

A willing possession always ended in death once the demon was exorcized, but it was much more difficult to defeat the demon when the possessed soul wasn't fighting.

It was no coincidence Rafe had been on the floor next to the altar. He would have been dead or possessed had Anthony not come when he had. Rafe must have known what Hatch was doing. Stopped the ritual. But he'd been too late to save the others. He'd been held captive in his room-evidenced by the scratch marks and wounds on his hands-until the actual possession began and the demon couldn't hold Rafe off.

Why hadn't Rafe been poisoned? Was it as simple as the fact that he wasn't a priest? Or that he'd never seen evil incarnate? Or- "Do you know how the poison was given to the priests?"

"I know how they consumed the last dose. In stew served late the night before."

"Stew."

"Everyone but Hatch and your friend Cooper. There's no evidence of heavy metal poisoning in Cooper's body."

"Rafe is a vegetarian," Anthony said.

"Since you and Skye are on the outs right now," Rod said, "you probably haven't heard. But it might be important. The psychiatrist treating the priests was shot today. All files related to the mission are missing."

Anthony froze. "Someone tried to kill Charles Wicker?"

"Yep, he's in surgery." He drank half his rum. "I heard through the grapevine that Skye put out an APB on you. She thinks you're the one who poisoned her coffee."

"Why?"

"Your fingerprints, and hers, were the only ones found in the kitchen."

Skye was looking at the facts, the evidence-and thought he'd planned to kill her. That she had such a low opinion of him ached, but he didn't have time to wallow in self-pity or indignation.

"If I'm supposed to be in prison, why did you talk to me to begin with?"

Rod drained his rum and said, "Because I've been in this business a long time and something doesn't add up. h.e.l.l, a lot of things aren't making sense to me." He stared at Anthony. "I don't think you're a killer, and G.o.d help me if I'm wrong, but I think you're the only one who can stop whatever's happening."

Anthony sat in Rod Fielding's personal car outside the sheriff's department watching Skye's police-issue Bronco. He'd talked Rod into swapping cars with him, though he wasn't confident Rod wouldn't let it slip if Skye called again that night. He could only hope the scientist pa.s.sed out before that happened.

It hurt and angered him that Skye thought he'd poisoned her. Her doubts-or guilt-told her he must be involved. He couldn't convince her with words; only seeing would lead her to believe him.

He called Father Philip. "What do you have?"

"Not much, I'm afraid."

"Give me everything." He told Father Philip about the altar, Jeremiah Hatch, and his theory.

Silence.

"Father?"

"I fear you are right."

"What do you know?"

"Monsignor Hatch was never supposed to be at the Santa Louisa Mission. He returned to his home parish in D.C. after Guatemala and then one day asked his local bishop for a sabbatical. He asked if he could spend time at the Santa Louisa Mission, but the bishop felt he'd be better served at a retreat in Canada. He never showed up, and the bishop filed a missing persons report with the police department."

"How'd he get into the mission?"

"You know they were very reclusive. They wouldn't have turned away one of their own who was hurting."

Hurting.

"What about Hatch's childhood?"

"I spoke with the Mother Superior at Sisters of Mercy and she couldn't find his records."

"Missing records?"

"It happens, Anthony. But-"

"It's suspicious, given what we know now."

"It's a theory."

"How did his parents die?"

"I don't have that information."

"It should be in his seminary records." The same seminary where Rafe was studying. Had he learned something about Jeremiah Hatch? Or had he been ignorant up until the final hour?

"I'll check, but they may not talk with me."

"This is important, Father. Maybe Cardinal Ciccoli can ask."

Silence again. While Father Philip was satisfied to be considered a relic in the church who saw demons on every corner, Cardinal Ciccoli wanted to uphold his image as a statesman. He had helped Anthony on several occasions, though as quietly and discreetly as possible.

"I will ask him," Father Philip finally said. "If it is truly important."

Anthony watched as Skye left the sheriff's department with a uniformed deputy. They jumped into her Bronco and left. He followed.

Anthony couldn't say for sure Hatch's past was important, but the more information about how Ianax had been summoned from h.e.l.l, the better. He already feared he wouldn't be able to save Skye.

"It's important, Father."

"Very well."

"a.s.sume that Hatch was a willing partic.i.p.ant for the demon, but the ritual couldn't be completed. What would Ianax do? He didn't go straight back to h.e.l.l. I felt him in the fire."

"He must have a human body. The longer he is without one, the weaker he becomes."

"But he needs a willing partic.i.p.ant."

"He needed three people to draw him out of h.e.l.l, but now that he's here, he'll take anyone he can. And remember-he can move in and out of souls at will. He may have used people without them knowing it. Protect yourself."

Anthony watched Skye turn toward the coastal highway. Fear gripped him. He stayed far back. He now knew where she was going; he couldn't let her see him.

"I have more important things to protect."

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

SKYE HAD TAGGED Deputy Tommy Reiner to join her in the stakeout of the Davies house that night. Though it was only nine when they settled into their hiding spot in a cove of trees to the north of the house, she was beat. There was a connection and she kept circling her mind around possible answers. Everything went back to the Davies and the poisonings. But why? Was Corinne Davies a serial killer? One of those mercy killers? Women serial killers were more likely to use poison or another less "violent" method of death. Male killers usually stuck with knives and guns and hands-on strangulation.

She watched the house and sipped lukewarm black coffee from a thermos she had picked up at Starbucks earlier in the evening. The house was dark and the car registered to Corinne Davies wasn't in the carport. More than that, the place felt as empty as it had when she'd been here this morning with Anthony. Was she wasting her time?

What was Anthony up to? Was she wrong to have put an APB on him? How else to explain his fingerprints all over her coffeepot?

He'd checked the grounds when you came back from the cliff.

Whoever poisoned the coffee would have worn gloves, wouldn't they?

Was Anthony himself in danger? Dr. Wicker was fighting for his life. Perhaps the killer would go after Anthony if he-or she-thought Anthony had damaging information. She should have put him in protective custody instead of sending him off.

She rubbed her head. It was going to be a long night.

Anthony hid in bushes on the far side of the Davies house. Skye was in a grove of trees, but he could barely make out a glint of moonlight reflecting off the Bronco. He could, however, see the road. He needed to get into that house without Skye knowing, before the Davies women returned home. But first he had to break the spell protecting the cottage.

His cell phone vibrated in his pocket. He answered with a quiet, "Yes, Father."

"Twelve-year-old Jeremiah Hatch found his parents murdered in their bed. Stabbed to death."

"Did they catch the killer?"

"A drug addict claimed demons made him do it. He committed suicide his first night in jail."

"And?"

"He choked on his own tongue. He'd apparently smuggled in a razor blade, severed his tongue, and attempted to swallow it."

"A razor blade. Are American prisons that poorly monitored?"