Mary Nealy - Ten Plagues

“So you led him to the Lord?” Paul asked, feeling the spurt of pleasure that always lifted him when he heard of someone turning their life around.

“Right there in that dingy room.” Keren smiled at the memory. “And he really was changed. I visited him every day in jail. I was afraid for him to be in such a bleak place with his new faith. I spent hours talking to him. I had my pastor go in to see him, and a group from our church that ministers to prisoners virtually adopted him. The poor guy was swamped with Christian support.”

Paul said, “And he was one of my cases?”

Keren nodded. “Lucas Vilsack. You probably remember him because he was six foot seven and had bright green hair when he was arrested.”

Paul snapped his fingers. “He got out of jail and went to college. He’s playing forward for Notre Dame.”

“That’s the guy.”

“I remember him. I tied him to a string of burglaries that went back two years.”

“Sixteen months. He started in when he became possessed. Ran away from a really good home, lived on the street.”

“So what’s the problem?”

“The problem is—”

Paul cut her off as the light dawned. “I came stomping in on that case and found out he was being given probation and community service. He was going to walk.”

“Because I had been working my butt off arranging for him to walk. While he was out on bail, he’d met with every one of his victims and arranged to pay them back. He had plans to do community service by speaking to high schools about the mistakes he’d made with his life. He’d already given a couple of speeches and they were wonderful. He could really have reached some kids. And he was back in school and involved in a youth group in my church. I had contacted every jurisdiction where he was wanted. He was making no effort to cover up any offenses, because he admitted to things that hadn’t even been connected to him. I’d talked to everyone and urged them to meet him and judge for themselves if his remorse was genuine. And that includes you. I called you and—”

“I wrecked it. I wanted to make an example of him. I couldn’t be bothered to meet him, and I was sure he was just conning a rookie detective. I used my influence to make sure he did some real time.”

“Five years. He got out in two because he was a model prisoner.”

Paul closed his eyes as more details came back. “And I did my best to have you, and every other cop who was letting him off the hook, busted back to a uniform.”

“There were four of us. One was older and he took early retirement. The other two ended up walking a beat for a while, but they eventually left the force. They were all three good cops who didn’t see a future for themselves once they had bad paper in their jackets from the charges you filed against us.”

“But you stayed on.”

“I managed to hang on to my detective shield, mainly because I was a woman, which made me furious on the other guys’ behalf, but I was too much of a wimp to resign in protest. I spent six months sitting in the evidence locker doing paperwork. The only reason I stuck with it was because I felt police work was where God wanted me. Then I found something in an evidence box that broke open a case O’Shea was working. He got me transferred. We’ve been partners for two years now.”

“And it was my fault.”

Keren gave him a squinty-eyed look. For some reason it pleased Paul that she didn’t just wave it off and say, “No big deal, what’s six months of my life?”

“Yeah, it was your fault. You were so cynical, and the cameras were rolling. You couldn’t be bothered to just listen to the kid. You never gave him five minutes of your precious time. Yeah, it was your fault.” She fell silent for a moment. “And Lucas is okay, and you’re okay, and I’m okay, and none of it matters anymore,

except your name is eternally linked in my mind with insufferable arrogance.”

“That’s all?”

“Yup, that’s all.”

Paul rested his face in his palms. “Sorry.” He peeked out between his fingers. “I’m really sorry.”

“Too late,” Keren said.

“I promise you I’ll call Lucas tomorrow and apologize.”

Keren arched an eyebrow at him. “Too late for that, too. He made it, in spite of you.”

“I’ll find those three cops and apologize personally, and allow the older one to beat on me awhile. The younger ones might hurt me.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“Okay, the young ones can hit me, too.”

“I can get you their names and addresses by nightfall.”

Paul was afraid she meant it, and if she did, he’d have to do it. He owed them all. He smiled at her. “The only bad part of hiding out here instead of working with you is that I’ve been worried. When you said I could be your bodyguard so you could be my bodyguard, I meant it. I need to know where you are. I’ve been imagining you in Caldwell’s hands. I’ve got to do something to make sure you’re safe. But I turn into a man I don’t like or respect when I’m doing police work. I’ve got an idea, but it might just be… that I’m not so much worried as I just… miss you.”

“I’ve missed you, too.” Keren set her coffee cup down with a thud and covered her mouth. From behind her hands, she said, “Forget I said that.”

Paul circled the table and pulled Keren up out of her chair. He looked into her eyes until he felt like he could see all the way to her heart, and he saw himself in her heart. “Uncover your mouth.”

Muffled, she said, “No way.”

“I really need to stay away from you,” he said as he got closer to her.

“Agreed,” Keren said between her fingers as she backed away.

Paul advanced. “Stand still and let me kiss you. You’re as hard on me as this whole cop mess.”

Keren retreated. “I’m hard on you?”

He gave her a wry look then snagged her by the arm and kissed her on the forehead. “Okay, that’s enough anyway.”

She nodded and stepped away. She tripped over her chair. She flung her arms out. Paul caught her, pulled her close, and kissed her. His mouth missed her forehead this time and landed square on her lips.

And her hands weren’t protecting her mouth at all when they wrapped around his neck.

Hello, Rosita.” Pravus was careful to be his usual polite self as he stepped into the hospital lounge.

Rosita took a quick nervous look at the door to the intensive care unit. He wondered who her sick friend was. She’d certainly been faithful to her this week.

“What brings you here?”

“Pastor P asked me to come over and bring you back to the mission.”

“He did?” Rosita relaxed.

“Yes, he even found someone to lend me a car.” Pravus had to be very careful not to smile.

“A car? Where’d he find a car in our neighborhood?”

“I don’t know.” Pravus shrugged.

“Well, whoever lent it to him, I’m grateful.”

“Pastor P doesn’t want you out alone.”

Rosita rolled her eyes. “He won’t even let me walk to the bus stop in the daylight.”

“Well, good for him.” Pravus knew just how thoroughly the reverend had warned everybody. He was sticking his neck way out to come into the hospital, with the plans he had for Rosita. And the hospital had security cameras, so he’d never be able to show his face again. That’s okay, it was worth it. Once he had little Rosie, they’d come to him.

“He’s right, you know. You have to be careful with this guy out there killing people.”

Rosita rose from the couch. “I know he’s right, and I’ve been doing as he says.”

“It makes life more difficult, but it’s a good idea to be careful.”