Silent Witness by Richard North Patterson Page A

itself was a sin.’
    Tony felt himself tremble. The priest’s voice became lower. ‘You haven’t told me how she died. Only that you caused it.’
    Tony closed his eyes. ‘After we made love, I wanted her again. I waited in Taylor Park for her to sneak back out. When she didn’t come, I went to look for her. I found her in her own backyard, murdered.’ Tears came to his eyes once more. ‘I know that she died in pain. That she would never have been there except that I wanted her. That she died because of me.’
    There was a long silence. Then the priest asked, ‘Is there more you need to say?’
    It was a long time before Tony could speak. ‘She died after we made love, Father. I need to believe . . .’
    The priest bent forward, his voice parched. ‘You wish to know what has happened to her soul.’
    â€˜Yes.’
    For a moment, Father Quinn was quiet. ‘But you cannot know,’ he said at last.
    Tony felt sick. He had learned the dogma from his own parents: that non-Catholics, let alone a girl who died in sin, could not reasonably hope for salvation. ‘But our doctrine is changing. . . .’
    â€˜Perhaps. But not, I think, for this.’
    In bottomless grief, Tony covered his face. ‘Please, Father . . .’
    More gently, the priest said, ‘I cannot tell you what is not so, even for the sake of a poor dead girl for whom your acts had consequences, and whose salvation is now between her and God. You may come here only to confess your own sins and to make penance for the sake of your own immortal soul.’ His voice hardened. ‘So I must ask you, have you told me everything . . . ?’
    â€˜ Yes ,’ Tony said with sudden passion. ‘Father, forgive me, for I committed a mortal sin and sent a girl I loved to Hell for it.’
    â€˜ Listen to me .’ The priest’s voice rose. ‘You are speaking not to me but to God, the ultimate judge, and there is no statute of limitations on eternity. He can grant absolution only to you, and only for the sins you have confessed to Him. Are there any others . . . ?’
    â€˜I didn’t kill her, Father. I just sent her to Hell.’ Tony felt himself fill with a hopelessness and fury he had never felt before. ‘You can absolve me now. Make me feel better. . . .’
    Behind the screen was a sharp intake of breath. ‘You’re in an emotional state, my son. Maybe you should consider this. . . .’
    With a force of its own, torment jerked Tony from his chair. ‘Maybe I should go to Hell with Alison. That way she’ll have company. . . .’
    â€˜Anthony,’ the priest cried out, ‘this is my obligation to you. Without absolution, you cannot receive Communion. It’s you I want to help. . . .’
    â€˜You can’t, Father. Not in this life.’
    Blind with despair and sleeplessness and abandonment, Tony Lord turned and walked away from his church.
    A little past five o’clock, sitting alone in the basement, Tony heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
    For a moment, Sam and Sue stood in the dim light. Then Sue hurried to where Tony sat, hugging him around the neck. ‘Tony, I’m so sorry. . . .’
    Eyes shut, Tony put his arms around her. For a long moment, he held her like that, oblivious to anything except relief at seeing her, the comfort of this sudden warmth. ‘I’m so damn glad that you guys came. . . .’
    She pressed her cheek against his forehead, then stepped back. Tony stood, embracing Sam. No one needed to talk.
    After a time, Sam and Sue sat on the plaid couch, feet planted on the linoleum. Tony did not ask where they had been; in his charcoal suit, Sam looked awkward and ill at ease; Sue’s somber navy outfit was one she wore only to church. Stripped of her vivacity, Sue looked smaller.