Chapter Thirty-Two

I WOKE UP at ten the next morning and checked the internet. Cleveland.com ran a full report of the events on Elfin Street with pictures of the house and the blown-out door.

Hannah was one of the detectives interviewed. Knowing my desire for anonymity, she referred to me only as a “private consultant” who provided critical assistance during the investigation. She also mentioned I was in the house at the time of the arrest. The article didn’t mention Mrs. Place by name. It said a hostage was rescued from the home and was now undergoing treatment at a local hospital.

I took my time writing the report for Father Lawrence. Some of the unanswered questions about the case still bothered me, but Hannah was right. There were questions after any case, and sometimes you just needed to be happy with the answers you did find. I also hesitated over Father Samuel and the rape allegation. I ended up copying my notes from my conversation with the Manhattan police detective. I included no comments of my own, figuring it was up to Father Lawrence to take it from there.

John called me from his office to see if I was okay. Because he was in advertising, he complained that my name never showed up in the article on the shootings. I told him I was fine with that, but John reminded me I would eventually need more cases. He was right, but I couldn’t summon the energy to care. I wanted at least one anxiety-free day before I got back to work.

My day of leisure was interrupted by a visitor shortly before supper. To my surprise, it was Paul. My brother had never visited my apartment, and he looked uncertain but determined nonetheless. My indecision over seeing him melted away when I realized he was carrying takeout.

“I decided to take a chance you were here,” Paul said. “Father Lawrence told me what happened, so I figured I’d stop by to see if you were all right. I even brought food in case you hadn’t eaten.”

My feelings about Paul aside, I needed some company. John was on a date, and Hannah was still completing her case report. This whole thing had started with a conversation between Paul and me. It was fitting it would end that way as well.

Father Lawrence had already confided many of the specifics to Paul, so I thought he might as well hear the rest. When I came to the events on Elfin, I spared no details. I told him about the shotgun blasts, my run up the stairs, and the final confrontation with Dr. Grieve. Paul listened without interruption, his expression alternating between fascination and horror.

I wasn’t looking for validation, but I wanted someone in the family to understand what I did for a living. Paul could be self-righteous and annoying, but he was my big brother. After I finished, he looked a little stunned.

“Jesus, Terry, you could have been killed. I guess I never realized what you went through with this thing.”

After we finished discussing the case, we started talking about the old days—Dad’s crazy stories, Mom’s reaction to Dad’s crazy stories, our grade school, and the nuns. On a more serious note, Paul reminisced about our dad’s death and its impact on the family.

“You and Dad were always close,” Paul said, “and I know his death hit you hard. I’m not sure you knew this, but I went into a bit of a depression back then myself. That’s partly why I became so involved with the church at the same time you were headed in a different direction. I know there was more involved in your decision than Dad’s death, but I wish I’d been there for you more than I was back then.”

He continued with a chuckle, “On a lighter note, even you were a true believer in your early days. I remember in kindergarten, you told us a priest spoke to your class regarding the sacraments. When he talked about confession, the priest said God would be with you when you stepped into the confessional booth. You came home convinced God was going to be sitting right next to you, and Mom had to yell at me to stop laughing. You were quite the naïve kid back then.”

Paul was still talking, but I could no longer hear his voice. LSD users speak of moments of perfect clarity, moments when their perception became so acute they could actually see God. I was experiencing my own such moment now. Unlike theirs, mine came without the aid of illegal drugs.

And unlike theirs, I saw the devil.