Chapter Twenty-Eight
Elena was trying to breathe but the blanket that was tied around her made her feel as though she were suffocating. Her mind was foggy and she thought she might be in a dream, a nightmare, and wondered when she would wake up. Her left side was numb. It was the part of her body that had been against the wooden floor for hours. Rope was wrapped around her head, neck, chest, waist, thighs and ankles, making it impossible for her move her limbs. But air was her chief concern. The more she told herself to be calm the more hysterical she became until she began to suck great quantities of air and blanket into her mouth, causing her to thrash about against the radiator where she was tied.
Father Darius was in a state of delirium caused by loss of blood and exhaustion and his breathing was shallow. He was only a few feet from Elena but he did not hear her moans and cries for almost half an hour, not until her shrieks and bangs against the radiator brought him around to the point where he was aware that something was happening in the room. He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling, which was cracked from the weight of the old plaster over decades. For a moment he just stared at the outdated light fixture, a yellowed globe put up in the fifties when people spent their evenings under overhead lights. The globe occupied his thoughts, mingling with the sounds of the hysterical young woman. The globe turned into the Virgin, who smiled down at him, beckoning to him, “Come. Come to me.” He held up his arms and expected to rise up to the ceiling and beyond to his heavenly reward, but he remained where he was, crying like a child.
The lassitude lingered as he began to glance around the room, not really taking in the physical aspects of the place. He saw it as a kind of waiting room for Heaven, a place where She had come to get him. His back ached with a fierceness he had not felt before and he was feverish. It was several minutes before he realized that the shrieks he was hearing were not coming from him but were rising from the moving form on the floor and it took him even longer to understand that there was another person in the room. He tried to sit up and cried out when his movement pulled his shirt from his back, where much of the blood had dried against his wounds. There was a half-filled glass of water on the table near the sofa and he drank it, feeling a welcome wetness in his mouth, which had gone dry during his sleep.
He shook his head, trying to clear it, but the effort made him dizzy, so he held it with his hands and tried to focus. The form in the floor was moving and making animal noises. He watched it and slowly it came to him. He was confused about what to do. Part of him knew that the woman named Elena was wrapped in the blanket and that he had taken her. Another part of him saw her as the Virgin, a holy being who was crying out to be returned to her heavenly home and that he had been chosen as the vehicle for this saintly task. Maybe she would like some water? He thought.
He tried to stand but the effort forced him back to the sofa, where he caught his breath. He tried again and was successful enough to stagger into the kitchen where he grabbed a glass and filled it with water. He walked to the form on the floor and watched it writhe and make its noises. “Are you thirsty? Would you like a drink of water?” The form stopped moving.
Elena heard his voice and knew for the first time that she was not alone. Her hysteria had helped bring her out of a stupor and she recalled the man in black who had drugged her. She wondered if Dave was still alive. She thought she must still be in the cabin.
“Would you like some water” the voice asked again.
She stopped moving her body and nodded her head, not knowing what would happen next. She paused, and nodded again.
“Okay,” said the voice.
She heard a moan as the man knelt beside her and felt the rope around her head being untied. It took him awhile and he seemed to be having trouble with the knot. She saw daylight in front of her and felt a hand pulling the blanket away. She saw a face peering down at her and at first she thought the man was dead. His hair was plastered to his head in tangles. His eyes were swollen and red. Tears rolled down his cheeks. His face drooped as though it had melted in great heat. He seemed to be in pain. He placed the glass on the floor and set himself in a posture of prayer. He felt an obligation to speak in the ancient language of the Church.
“Mater Dei,” he said. Mother of God. “Dominus mihi ignoscat.” Lord, forgive me.
“Da, quaesumus Dominus, ut in hora mortis nostrae Sacramentis refecti et culpis omnibus expiati, in sinum misericordiae tuae laeti suscipi mereamur. Per Christum Dominum nostrum. Amen.”
Grant, we beseech Thee, O Lord, that in the hour of our death we may be refreshed by Thy holy Sacraments and delivered from all guilt, and so deserve to be received with joy into the arms of Thy mercy. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.
With that he picked up the glass and helped her drink. She was wide-eyed with fear but the water was welcome and she stared into his face looking for signs of kindness. What she saw as madness.
Father Darius leaned over and looked into her eyes. Elena could smell his foul breath as he spoke. “I know who you are. I will help you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, assuming he would untie her.
“I must rest before I can send you home,” he said, pressing his lips against her forehead. “I am not well.”
“Just let me go. I can get home by myself. Just untie me.”
“No, that will not do. I know what must be done. I will bring you to the Shrine but only after I have rested. Then I will send you home.” His mind was losing focus and he again saw the Virgin in Elena’s face and he began to weep over her. “Thank you. Thank you for coming to me in this way. I am not worthy.”
Elena’s mind was clearing just as his was clouding and it came to her that he was mad and it caused her hysteria to return. “Let me go!” she shouted. “I haven’t done anything to you.”
Her voice startled him and she took on the form of Satan in his eyes, forcing the Virgin from his vision. He reasoned that this was the central term of his mission, to destroy the Satan that had come to soil the Virgin. He stared at Elena and it came back to him. He had been following her for months, ever since he saw her on the street and knew that she was the one. He had been waiting for a sign and it came to him in a snap, just like that.
He had first seen her outside Dave’s apartment building and had plotted and planned and prayed and waited. Even as the Virgin was giving him instructions about the priests who had earned their right to Heaven, as he studied those he knew would try to destroy his mission, even as he developed a deep loathing for Dave Haggard, he had tracked her and brought his mind to focus on the task of returning Her to Heaven in this physical form. He had even presented holy relics to Dave in the belief that he would see them as a sign, a proof, that something truly acta sanctorum had been ordained, a holy act. Why didn’t he listen? Why didn’t he honor the sacrifice? Why did he withhold her?
Now, he was forced to separate Satan from the Madonna. It was a supreme act of exorcism and he must be strong for this final act of his life on earth. He applied chloroform and ether to a small towel and pressed it to Elena’s face, holding it there until she was still, then he tied the blanket around her head and went to rest.
At that moment Dave was at a work station at Now News, trying to write a special report, but it was not coming easily. The events of the past hours were overwhelming him and he needed sleep but his mind and his body were at odds over the issue. His mind was sparking like a shorted-out radio but his body was failing him. He closed his eyes and leaned back, hoping that a short rest would give him the boost he needed to get through the next hour, then the hour after that. He had been saying the same things about the same events over and over all morning and, like someone who has said the same word over and over, nothing had any meaning anymore and he had no idea where to even begin. He had the image of Frank’s cattle feeding on hay near the silo-cum-communications center and wondered why he was thinking of that. He drifted off and was startled when Sid shook his shoulder.
“Hey, Ace, how are you doing?”
Sid’s voice was soft. “I hate to wake you but there’s a guy on the phone who won’t talk to anyone else. He says he has information you’ll want to know about.”
“How long have I been sleeping?”
“Half hour, give or take. The guy’s on line three.”
Dave picked up a handset and pressed the blinking light for line three. “Dave Haggard,” he said, still drowsy.
“Mr. Haggard, my name is William Lowry. I live in North Arlington a couple of blocks off Glebe Road. I saw you on television this morning, a couple of times, actually, and I heard you talking about what happened. I’m very sorry about your girlfriend and what you had to go through.”
“Thank you. What can I do for you?”
“Well, I called this in to Arlington Police but I haven’t seen anyone come around yet, so I’m calling you. There’s a man living in a house on our block. He’s renting it. It’s a rental place that the guy who owns it rents furnished and on short-term leases. It’s been a sore issue in the neighborhood and that’s why people notice who’s living there. Short term rentals don’t bring in the best people, if you know what I mean.”
“Okay,” Dave said, wondering where this was going and wishing he had been allowed to sleep a little longer.
“Well, the man drives the kind of car you were talking about, a red MGA. It has a black top and wire wheels. I don’t have the license plate number but it’s out of state. There’s a garage behind the house and he keeps it in there when he’s around. He’s been gone lately and when he’s here he’s out at odd hours.”
Dave thought the caller must be a busy-body to spend time observing the habits of the other people on his block and keeping track of their activities. “Do you know if he’s there now?”
“He is. He pulled in very early this morning and put his little red car in the garage. It’s there now, I believe.”
“Did he have anyone with him?”
“I couldn’t tell that. The garage is around back. I want to tell you that I think this guy is a little strange. I’m surprised the police haven’t been here already.”
“Why do you say that?”
“It’s just his manner. He doesn’t seem right.”
“Has he done anything, you know, that’s suspicious or illegal?”
“I don’t know what to say about that. He’s odd, is all, and I don’t want to be one of those neighbors who wait until something happens to speak up.”
“What’s your address?”
The man gave Dave his address and the address of the suspicious neighbor. He promised to look into it and thanked Mr. Lowry for his information. He called O’Neil, who was sitting in his car wondering if he should talk to the F.B.I. He saw that Dave was calling and picked up.
“You gonna beat me up again? If so, get in line.”
“I’m sure you have new and dramatic details of about your investigation that you would love to share.” Dave’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.
“Yes, actually, I do. The chief and everybody else around here has been beating the shit out of me all morning.”
“To any effect?”
“Not that I’m aware of. What can I do for you, Dave?”
“We’re getting lots of calls about the red MGA. Most of them are people who already called the cops. How do you guys handle stuff like that?”
“Like how to we separate the wheat from the chaff?”
“Yeah, like that.”
“Well, first you weed out the ones you know are from well-meaning tipsters who just want to be part of what’s in the news, you know the kind. The old lady who says her brother-in-law used to have a car like that and maybe he got another one and he is the killer, that kind of thing. Then you look for the ones that might be the real deal and go from there. If I were you, I’d let the pros work this out. My guess is they’re running down every lead that’s being phoned in. Let’s face it, Dave, there’s ain’t no bigger story around here right now than Elena and this priest killer.”
“I got a call from a guy in Arlington who says a red MG belongs to a creepy neighbor who’s renting a furnished house on his block. He says the guy pulled in early this morning and left the car in a garage in back of the house. He didn’t see anyone with him.”
“And I’d guess that every police dispatcher in the Washington area has fifty calls just like that.” O’Neil decided he would talk to Ossening and wanted Dave to get off the phone. “Listen, I’d love to talk all day but I have a date with the F.B.I. to talk about this very case.”
“Can I come along?”
O’Neil laughed out loud. “Jesus, Dave! Ossening would love that.”
“Ossening? What’s he got to do with this?”
“You might recall that he’s with the D.C. field office. They’re crawling up our ass now. Gotta go. I’m real sorry about what’s happened.”