Iris Johansen - Bonnie

“Did you believe him?” Joe asked quietly.

“The first night he brought me here. It scared me. But then I found out that he was wrong.”

“How did you do that?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I just woke up in the morning and looked out at the ridge and knew there was nothing bad out there.”

“The ridge?”

Ben pointed to the ridge to the far north. “I think that’s where Ted went when he left me. He said I had to stay here and not follow him, or the demons would get me.”

A surge of excitement electrified Joe. He went to the edge of the cliff and looked out at the ridge. Screw the demons. I’ve got you, Danner. “He was only gone one night?”

“The first night. After that, sometimes only four or five hours.”

What the hell was Danner doing beyond that ridge?

He’d find out.

“Wait until dawn.” Father Barnabas was standing beside him. “You’ll break your neck on this hill in the dark. You have time. Ted Danner isn’t there yet.”

“And he won’t come up this way. I’d bet he only brought Ben up here so that he could put a barrier to keep him from following him.” His gaze went back to the ridge, which appeared to ramble for miles. “It’s damn long. What the hell is on the other side?”

“The place,” Ben said. “But no demons. I promise you, no demons.”

“I’m not sure about that.”

“I am.”

“I’ll check my GPS and try to see what’s beyond that ridge. It’ll give me an idea of the topography.” He smiled faintly. “But I doubt if it has the capacity to identify demons.”

“You’re teasing me. That’s okay. I don’t mind.” Ben was gathering branches from the trees on the slopes leading to the hill. “I’ll build a fire. It gets cold at night in the hills.”

Joe smiled. “But Father Barnabas has his sleeping bag.”

“We can flip for it,” the priest offered.

Ben shook his head. “I like to sleep on the ground. It helps me be closer.”

“Closer to what?” Joe asked.

Ben didn’t answer directly. “Just closer.” He was kneeling and making the fire. “I like it here. It’s kind of peaceful.”

Joe wasn’t feeling at all peaceful. He could feel the blood zinging through his body, and his heart was pounding. At last he was on the way to getting a handle on this nightmare. Should he try to go explore that ridge? He didn’t have any doubt he could make it, but Father Barnabas was right about the smart course being to wait for daylight. He’d be going at it blind, and he didn’t know what the hell he was looking for. He might do it anyway. He didn’t know if he could be patient enough to wait.

“No, Joe.” The priest was gazing at him. “Think about it first.”

Joe nodded curtly. “I’ll call Catherine and Gallo and tell them where we are and see if we can get any idea about where Danner is now. If he’s anywhere near, then I’m going.” He turned and went toward the fire. “I need some light to get our position on the GPS and Google that damn ridge. I think Ben brought a pan, instant coffee, and some bottled water if you want to fix a hot drink. It’s already getting cool.”

“Later.” Father Barnabas was looking out at the ridge, which was only a purple-shaded blur in the falling darkness. “Ben is right, there is peace here. I think I’ll go over there in the trees by myself. I’ll see you soon.”

Maybe he was going to meditate or pray or whatever priests did in cases like this, Joe thought. Though a case like this wasn’t that common. Or perhaps he was planning what his next move would be in order to find Danner before Joe did.

“You watch him.” Ben was sitting back on his heels, his head tilted as he stared at Joe. “He makes you worry. Why?”

Joe shrugged. “He’s a puzzle. He may not be what he seems to be.”

Ben’s gaze went to the priest. “But why should that worry you? It’s all good.”

“Is it? How do you know?”

“Can’t you see? He kind of shines inside. Like you, Joe.”

“Me?” He shook his head. “Not likely, Ben.”

“Not exactly the same. He’s deeper, softer. But he does shine, Joe.” He smiled brilliantly. “And he only wants to help. You don’t have to worry.”

What would Ben know? He thought even Danner was good. How could Joe believe him?

Yet he did believe him. Looking at the boy’s face, he believed every word he’d spoken. Crazy.

No, it wasn’t crazy. That beautiful clear simplicity wasn’t to be denied. Dammit, he suddenly knew he didn’t want to deny it. Maybe the kid could sense or see something that Joe couldn’t. “Well, I can’t see the shine from this distance, so I guess I’ll have to go and get a little closer look at him. I’ll be right back.” He turned and strode toward the trees where the priest was sitting.

“A problem?” Father Barnabas asked as he looked up and saw Joe’s frown. “May I help?”

“Yes.” Joe stopped in front of him. “You can stop being a damn martyr and shrug off all those good intentions and vows of confidentiality that you took as a priest and as your alter ego the great psychiatrist. I’m tired of wondering if you’re going to try to push me under a bus. I want to go after Danner with a clear head.”

The priest’s brows rose. “What brought this on?”

“Ben says you shine. I don’t have his vision. I’m just a cop who’s grounded in reality. I want to see if you’re the real thing or fool’s gold.”

“I have my fool’s-gold moments. Don’t we all?”

“Yeah, but I think that Ben would be able to weigh that in and come up with the right answer.”

“You seem to have a good deal of faith in Ben.”

“I have to have faith in something or someone right now. I need it.”

Father Barnabas smiled. “So do I. That’s why I took a moment to myself.”

“Talk to me. Why are you going after Danner? Does he know too much about you, maybe too much about what the Ezra Bonafel court case was all about?”

“I’m not supposed to discuss the court case.”

“To hell with that. I’m going to find out anyway. One of Catherine’s CIA buddies is investigating it. Sealed or not, he’ll know everything about it soon.”

Barnabas’s smile faded. “I’m sure he will. The CIA can be very efficient… and ruthless. But he’s got to be very careful.”

“Why?”

“Tell the CIA to drop it, Joe.”

“Talk to me. What was so bad in those transcripts that they sealed the records? Why did the judge do that?”

Father Barnabas was silent.

“Why?” Joe asked again. “Why did the judge do it?”

The priest finally shrugged. “Because I asked him to do it.”

“You did it? Why?”

“Because it would have hurt people who were vulnerable.” He shook his head. “You’re not going to give up, are you? If I tell you, will you call off those CIA bloodhounds?”

“Maybe. If I think you’re telling the truth. But you can be sure that I’ll let them dig until eternity if you don’t tell me anything.”

The priest smiled faintly. “You’re tough, Joe.” He looked away from him at the horizon over the ridge. “The Ezra Bonafel charge was brought by Ezra’s mother, Dorothy. She claimed I had imprinted false memories through hypnosis on Ezra. The memories were of sexual abuse inflicted on Ezra as a child by his father. She refused to believe that the abuse had happened… although Ezra believed she knew about it.”

“What made her think that the charge would stick?”

“I’d done a few papers in medical journals on the possibility of being able to imprint or erase memories. Ezra had blocked out what had happened to him as a child, but the memories began to come back to him during therapy. His mother went berserk. Actually, she was probably more unstable than Ezra. She loved Ezra and couldn’t admit even to herself that she would permit him to be hurt. She had to have someone to blame.”