20.

With the light back on and the priests settled down and facing her again, Kirsten introduced the man who’d come through the window. “My man in charge of security,” she said, “Milo Radovich. But you can call him Cuffs.” She turned to him. “Right, Cuffs?” She waited, but his only answer was a scowl, so she addressed him again. “Some of these gentlemen here were questioning whether you were actually on duty last night.”

Cuffs Radovich was a rectangle, the shape of the window he’d come through, and seemed only slightly smaller. His black raincoat hung open over a black turtleneck and black pants. His black fedora was narrow-brimmed and looked too small for him. His face was dark and deeply lined, and a thick gray mustache drooped down along both sides of his mouth. He studied the priests in front of him like they were creatures in a zoo.

Finally he shifted his attention to Kirsten. “I’m not your man—or anyone else’s man.” His voice was deep and harsh. “And I don’t give a fuck what these ‘gentlemen’ question. As long as I get paid, I’ll keep their sorry asses in one piece.”

*   *   *

An hour later Kirsten pulled out through the seminary gate and they headed for home. “Cuffs is always such a treat, isn’t he?” she said. “I love the raincoat. And that fedora!”

“The only treat about Cuffs,” Dugan said, “is watching people meet him for the first time. Are the seminary’s security people happy about him hiding in the bushes?”

“It won’t always be him. He’s got another job going, too, so he’s hiring guys to be there when he can’t. Anyway, he worked it out with the chief of security. I guess he’s an ex-cop Cuffs knows from somewhere.”

“Uh-huh.” Dugan shifted around in his seat, and she knew he was hoping to get some sleep.

“By the way,” she said, “I really enjoyed that little act you put on.” She laughed. “I mean, pretending to struggle with the window like that? So those priests would think Cuffs was super strong? Nice touch.”

“Very funny,” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me he was already on the job?”

“Because you aren’t interested in the case. You only came along to be with me. If Michael and those other men are tortured and murdered … hey … they brought it on themselves, right?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I think you did, but let’s not get into it.”

“Right.” He squirmed around some more, but was too large a man to get really comfortable in the Celica. Finally he said, “Those guys … the priests … they can really knock down the alcohol.”

“Yeah … well … so can you when you put your mind to it.”

“And most of them are overweight.”

“Yeah … well…” She let that one go.

“I know, I know,” he said. “I need to get to the gym.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I think you did, but let’s not— Anyway, I was watching those priests, and I talked to some of them. After the meeting, you know?”

“Uh-huh.”

“A couple of them are really oddballs,” he said. “But some of the others, I don’t know. They’re scared shitless, but they seemed pretty … normal.”

“Watch out, Dugan. Pretty soon you’ll be thinking these are actual human beings.”

“Just barely,” he said. “You can’t separate them from what they did. Disgusting, repugnant. And don’t tell me the charges haven’t been—”

“Michael gave me a list of the charges against each one,” she said, “and what each one has admitted or denied. But the way I think about it? In my own mind? It’s that every last one of them did exactly what he’s accused of.”

“Really. So why keep reminding me that not all the charges have been proven?”

“Because that’s the truth. Just like it’s true that way too many people are found ‘guilty’ of things they didn’t do. But let’s face it: a few of those guys might be innocent, but probably most of them are guilty. I know Michael is. And since I don’t know about the others, I’ve decided to assume that they’re all guilty and not try to kid myself about any of them.”

“So why spend all this time and money on them? They’ll never be able to pay what it’s worth, you know.” He finally managed to adjust the seat into a reclining position, and lay back. “I don’t get it.”

“I have my reasons,” she said. “One, they’ll pay something, hopefully at least enough to cover what I have to pay Cuffs and his crew. Two, I’m not in favor of maniacs running around torturing and murdering people, guilty or not.” He emitted a sort of groan, and she went on. “And three, I owe this to Michael. And maybe…” She paused. There would never be a perfect time to tell him, and she might as well get it over with. “Maybe it’s about time I finally told you why. It’s … sort of a long story.”

She paused again, holding her breath, but got no response at all. Dugan had fallen asleep. She let out her breath in a sigh … more of relief than exasperation.

*   *   *

When they got home they had one phone message. It was past ten o’clock and Dugan said to let it wait until morning. Kirsten would have preferred that, too. Instead, she listened to it.

“Kirsten, it’s me … Michael. I couldn’t find your cell phone number.” He sounded out of breath. “Remember I said one of the guys was … was in the hospital? With a kidney stone? Carl Stieboldt. Well, the hospital just called. He’s gone. Disappeared.”