harder you try the more they cling on. They might appear to fade away, but they will continue as obscure sects and cults. Religious belief is a powerful thing – a weapon or a comfort, depending on whose hands it is in –and the more I think about this heretic man, with his ancient gold and perverted crucifix, the more I think there were things he knew, things he did, that no man should. That’s why they, whoever they were, killed him.”
“And he’s back?” Gabe looked out into the garden. “You think
I
brought him back?”
“I’d like nothing more than to be proved wrong, but I think it’s possible. The antique store? That was no burglary gone wrong, and if I thought for one minute that it would be any use taking this note down to the station house – getting them to check the blood it’s written in against the store owner’s for a match – I’d run it straight down there right now.”
“But you’re, like, an ex-cop –” Gabe looked surprised – “why
wouldn’t
they listen to you?”
“Because I’m an ex-cop, they’d listen, but I very much doubt they would take what I had to say seriously. Not until it was too late.”
“Too late for what, Father?” There was that nervous edge to Stella’s voice again.
“You think I’m gonna die, don’t you?” Gabe couldn’t believe what he’d just heard himself say,but he knew it was true. That was what the priest believed.
“I think anyone who has any of the gold in their possession is in grave danger, is what I think, Gabe.”
“But he doesn’t
have
the gold in his possession, Father. It’s in his locker at school, remember?”
“
Quod meum est mei, noli prohibere
… What is mine is mine, do not withhold.” Father Simon pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Remember? Monday, you need to get everything you took from that skeleton and bring it here to me.”
“What’ll you do with it? Why won’t
you
be in just as much trouble as me and Cecil LeBarron?”
“Because I have faith that I can stop this.”
“But what am
I
supposed to do till Monday?”
“I’ll give you something…”
Chapter Nineteen
Gabe sat in the Toyota, numb. A small gold crucifix, hidden by his T-shirt, hung round his neck on a fine gold chain. Father Simon had made him promise not to take it off. So much for not being converted. Truth to tell, religion ‘not being his parents’ thing’ was underplaying it more than slightly; if his parents saw it they’d think he’d gone nuts. His opinion, right now? He’d give anything a try.
He and Stella didn’t talk much on the way back to her house. Was there anything to say that wouldn’t make them feel worse? Not really. But Stella, it seemed, had used the journey as thinking time. Pulling up on her driveway she turned to Gabe.
“I have an idea – why don’t we meet up later, kind of like six thirty, seven o’clock?”
“Sure…” Gabe was caught off guard, but not so much that he couldn’t help but slap a grin on his face at the offer. “Where?”
“That pizza place, you know, the one on the corner of Woodman?”
“Yeah, OK, it’s a deal,” said Gabe thinking,
but is it a date?
“See ya there.”
The whole bike ride home his head was a mess. Way too many things to think about. All he really wanted to do was play out what it would be like, meeting up with Stella later on, which as ideas went was a pretty good one in his opinion. But other thoughts kept pushing forward and getting in the way. Like the fact that he was wearing a freaking crucifix to protect himself against some risen-from–the-dead, Devil-worshipping Spanish guy. Because that
really
was going to work.
Trying not to get totalled by some lame-brain driver on his cell phone, who thought wing mirrors were for decoration, at the same time as dealing with conflicting trains of thought kept Gabe fully occupied. So much so that it took him a moment to realize that someone on a scooter was riding right next to him, keeping pace. He
“And he’s back?” Gabe looked out into the garden. “You think
I
brought him back?”
“I’d like nothing more than to be proved wrong, but I think it’s possible. The antique store? That was no burglary gone wrong, and if I thought for one minute that it would be any use taking this note down to the station house – getting them to check the blood it’s written in against the store owner’s for a match – I’d run it straight down there right now.”
“But you’re, like, an ex-cop –” Gabe looked surprised – “why
wouldn’t
they listen to you?”
“Because I’m an ex-cop, they’d listen, but I very much doubt they would take what I had to say seriously. Not until it was too late.”
“Too late for what, Father?” There was that nervous edge to Stella’s voice again.
“You think I’m gonna die, don’t you?” Gabe couldn’t believe what he’d just heard himself say,but he knew it was true. That was what the priest believed.
“I think anyone who has any of the gold in their possession is in grave danger, is what I think, Gabe.”
“But he doesn’t
have
the gold in his possession, Father. It’s in his locker at school, remember?”
“
Quod meum est mei, noli prohibere
… What is mine is mine, do not withhold.” Father Simon pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Remember? Monday, you need to get everything you took from that skeleton and bring it here to me.”
“What’ll you do with it? Why won’t
you
be in just as much trouble as me and Cecil LeBarron?”
“Because I have faith that I can stop this.”
“But what am
I
supposed to do till Monday?”
“I’ll give you something…”
Chapter Nineteen
Gabe sat in the Toyota, numb. A small gold crucifix, hidden by his T-shirt, hung round his neck on a fine gold chain. Father Simon had made him promise not to take it off. So much for not being converted. Truth to tell, religion ‘not being his parents’ thing’ was underplaying it more than slightly; if his parents saw it they’d think he’d gone nuts. His opinion, right now? He’d give anything a try.
He and Stella didn’t talk much on the way back to her house. Was there anything to say that wouldn’t make them feel worse? Not really. But Stella, it seemed, had used the journey as thinking time. Pulling up on her driveway she turned to Gabe.
“I have an idea – why don’t we meet up later, kind of like six thirty, seven o’clock?”
“Sure…” Gabe was caught off guard, but not so much that he couldn’t help but slap a grin on his face at the offer. “Where?”
“That pizza place, you know, the one on the corner of Woodman?”
“Yeah, OK, it’s a deal,” said Gabe thinking,
but is it a date?
“See ya there.”
The whole bike ride home his head was a mess. Way too many things to think about. All he really wanted to do was play out what it would be like, meeting up with Stella later on, which as ideas went was a pretty good one in his opinion. But other thoughts kept pushing forward and getting in the way. Like the fact that he was wearing a freaking crucifix to protect himself against some risen-from–the-dead, Devil-worshipping Spanish guy. Because that
really
was going to work.
Trying not to get totalled by some lame-brain driver on his cell phone, who thought wing mirrors were for decoration, at the same time as dealing with conflicting trains of thought kept Gabe fully occupied. So much so that it took him a moment to realize that someone on a scooter was riding right next to him, keeping pace. He
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