Reprisal

What's going to happen here?

After all these years, what was he going to do when he came face-to-face with the priest? Re

No. He'd decided to play it straight. Arrest him, take him to the state capital, and start extradition proceedings.

Prison was better than anything Re

Prison would be much slower. Hell would be a quick little picnic in the shade compared to life in prison for a short-eyes priest.

For the first time since he'd become a cop, Re

As the clock crept toward six and the room darkened, Re

And then Re

The other man cried out and leapt back.

"Who the hell are you?"

Re

And gaped. Maybe he had made a mistake. The bearded, silver-haired guy before him looked nothing like Father William Ryan. Had a pony tail, for crissake! Then Re

Their eyes locked.

"Remember me, Father Bill?"

The guy stared at him, obviously confused, and more than a little frightened by the gun in Re

"Oh, Jesus."

"Jesus ain't go

Re

"Now?" Ryan said. "Now you catch up to me?"

"I may be slow, but I get the job done."

"I haven't got time for this now, dammit!"

Re

"You know how the saying goes: Go ahead—make my day."

"Listen, I've got to get back to New York!"

"Oh, don't worry. That's exactly where you're going. But by way of Raleigh, first."

"No. I've got to get to New York now."

"Uh-uh. You've got to be extradited first."

Re

Where was all the rage he'd saved and nurtured these five years? Why wasn't it making him crazy now? How could he look at this sick bastard and not want to kill him on the spot?

"That will take too long," Ryan said. "I've got to go right now."

"Forget it. You're—"

The priest turned and headed down the hallway toward the bedroom. Re

"Stop right where you are or I'll shoot!"

"Then shoot!" Ryan said. "I'm going to New York, and I'm going now. You can arrest me there. That way you won't have to worry about extradition or any of that."

Re

Suddenly he noticed him reaching into a slit in the fabric of his box spring. He cocked his pistol.

"Don't try it!"

Ryan pulled his hand out and flashed a wad of bills.

"My savings account."

He grabbed a rumpled sports coat from the closet and brushed by Re

"Stop, God dammit, or I swear to God I'll shoot!" He lowered the barrel. "You know what it's like to get shot in the knee?"

Ryan stopped and faced him. His eyes were tortured.

"Da

"Bullshit!"

"Just what I would have said. But the person who told me may know what he's talking about."

"Don't give me that! You snatched him and killed him!"

His eyes turned bleak. "I thought I did. I buried him in St. A

He's admitting it! He's confessing to murder.'

Now the rage was coming, rising, filling Re

"You bastard!"

"I did it to save him! If I hadn't, he'd still be in a hospital somewhere with tubes coming out of every orifice, still suffering the torments of the damned while a bunch of white coats clucked over him! You didn't really think I'd do anything to hurt that boy, did you? He was damaged beyond all hope of repair!"

"Damage you did to him! You were abusing him and you couldn't let him go, so you mutilated him!"

He watched the priest's shoulders slump.

"Is that the accepted theory?" He shook his head sadly. "I guess I kind of expected that."

"You got what you deserve, and you're going to get more—a lot more. And don't think any bullshit stories about the kid being alive will let you cop an insanity plea. No way."

Ryan didn't reply immediately. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, then he straightened and looked hard at Re

"There's only one way to find out, isn't there? We'll have to go back-and dig him up."

The idea staggered Re

The priest picked up his car keys.

"You coming? I'll drive."

He headed out the front door. Re

TWENTY-FIVE

Queens, New York

He thinks I'm crazy, Bill thought, glancing over at Detective Augustino in the passenger seat. He guided the rental car out of its stall in the Avis garage at LaGuardia and onto the eastbound ramp of the Grand Central Parkway. Maybe I am.

He'd explained it all to Augustino on the way up. He'd told him about what he had done on New Year's Eve, and why he had done it. He also told him about Rafe's resemblance to Sara, about the anagram of the names. But as he listened to himself speak he realized how utterly deranged his story sounded. Even he began to have his own doubts, and he'd lived through it.

Da

Yet Rafe had told him. Rafe! How could Rafe know anything about it if he weren't directly involved?

Augustino's explanation for the whole convoluted mess? "You imagined it all—because you're nuts."

Nuts. This wasn't the first time Bill had considered the possibility, and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. But tonight he sensed he was approaching some sort of watershed that would either confirm or confute his sanity.

As he drove through the dark first hours of Saturday morning, he wasn't sure which he was hoping for.