David Wiltse - Into The Fire

Neither of the other two appeared to have heard him.

"I did not want to demean your contribution, Dr. Gold," Karen said.

"This is extracurricular work for you and I appreciate very much that you care enough to make the special effort."

"It was my curiosity more than anything," Gold said.

"I understand," she said. "And what you and John have come up with, even though it's only a hypothesis, is troubling to me. Very troubling."

"Not irretrievable, though," Becker said. "Both Cooper and Swann are available as much as we want them.

Send the Behavioral Sciences boys to talk to Swann, let them figure it out."

"That's what's troubling," Karen said. "We no longer have Swann."

"He's in Springville-get him transferred to our custody."

"No, John, that's what I'm saying. He isn't in Springville anymore. He's gone-he's out-he's been released."

"Released? How?"

"That was his bargain with Hatcher, his price for cooperating in the capture of Cooper."

"He said he wanted safety."

"He would never have been safe in the prison system, we all knew that.

So did he. Hatcher got his sentence commuted. He was released from prison the day we caught Cooper."

"Cooperate how?" Becker asked.

"He knew where Cooper was."

"How?"

"Apparently Cooper was sending him postcards.

Swann refused to tell us where to look unless Hatcher worked on a commutation of his sentence." Karen shrugged. "Hatcher gets what he goes after. We got the postcards, Swann got his commutation."

"That little shit is free?"

"And vanished. He was supposed to meet with a parole officer three days ago and never showed up. We don't have a clue where he is."

"So Hatcher not only caught the wrong man, he let the real killer loose," Becker said gleefully. "I wonder how Congressman Beggs will react to that bit of news?"

The crowd was so big, so boisterous, so agitated with anticipation that Tommy entertained thoughts of investing in a bigger tent. The whole swing through Kentucky had been like this, the audiences swelling every performance as word of the show spread before them from one town to the next like the bow wave of a ship so that when the Reverend Tommy R.

Walker's Gospel and Healing Meeting arrived, the residents had already been buoyed upwards with excitement. Tonight, though, looked like the best ever. The entire audience nearly swooned en masse when Aural did her solo piece-he was going to miss certain things about her, no question, even the Apostolic Choir of the Holy Ghost sounded better when she joined in. Oh, he'd lose a few from the audience when Aural was gone, but he'd keep most of them, he was sure of that. It was still his show, after all. If only just. And soon it would be all his again, only bigger and better.

Tommy whipped into the healing segment with unusual vigor, curing with great zest, as if nothing could be more fun. They were lined up with their ailments like he was giving away free money, and he worked his miracles quick as he could shout Hallelujah and Praise Jesus. The deacon and the choir were kept so busy catching cascading bodies that they actually worked up a sweat for a change. It was nice for Tommy not to be the only one bathed in perspiration.

He had cured a gallbladder and healed a kidney stone and pushed a lung tumor clean out of a man like it was nothing more than a chip on his shoulder when one of the overheated supplicants grabbed him. The man seized Tommy by the biceps and pulled him close so that their faces were practically touching. His breath was hot and smelled of mint and Tommy blinked as he puffed it into his eyes with every word.

"I've done terrible things," the man said, his voice low and whispery.

"I've done things no man should do."

The man held Tommy so firmly that there was no way the Reverend could free himself short of kicking the man off him. He was small and thin, but he clasped Tommy's arms with all the strength of a man in the grip of conviction. His nose was so close to Tommy's own that the minister had to turn his face and look at him sideways.

Tommy thought he was probably insane, and then he thought of assassination.

"My soul ain't clean," the man said. "I've been places no man should have to go, and Jesus knows I'm sorry, but I can't help it, I just can't help it, I get these thoughts, they won't leave me, they force me to do it."

The deacon had hurried over and was trying to pull the man off Tommy, but he clung like fury.

"You got to cure my heart," the man was saying.

"You got to cleanse me."

"I'm going to do it, too, if you just let loose," Tommy said.

"Thoughts that would drive a man crazy," the man said, his eyes widening.

"Let go of me, son, and I'll heal that heart in no time," Tommy said, trying to smile. The man was pushing himself harder into Tommy the more the deacon tried to pull him off "Only Jesus understands," the man was saying.

"I understand you, son. Now let me go and we'll get the holy power of Jesus working for us."

"You don't understand me," the man said, grasping Tommy even tighter.

"You don't. No one can."

Then the voice of the angel. "I understand you," and a tone so sweet, so manifestly full of patient understanding, of bone-deep sincerity, that the man eased up his grip and turned to look Aural in the face.

"Do you?"

She was standing right next to him. She put her fingers on his arm, that dainty hand coming out of the folds of the robe like soft magic. That half-smile, that goddamned suggestion of holiness and sainthood that Tommy couldn't duplicate no matter how he tried, moved her lips and Tommy watched as it worked its wonders again. The man looked into her face transfixed, the mania and desperation seeping away like a long sigh.

"Only a woman can truly understand a man," Aural said, although Tommy wasn't sure he actually heard the words over the din of the congregation, which was more excited than ever by the new development.

They were shouting at the man to release the Reverend and praying and praising Jesus and generally talking amongst themselves, every voice trying to be louder than the other. But the man heard Aural well enough, and when she told him to unloose Tommy, the man did it, and when she told him, sweet as a mother's kiss, to go back to the audience, he did that, too. She said if he was still troubled after the show she'd talk to him some more and he acted like it was a pure blessing from a saint herself.

Another triumph for the bitch, Tommy thought. Now they think she can calm the berserk and make the insane see reason. Throw away the Thorazine, Aural's here.

Meanwhile Tommy looks like a fool. His own sell Can't even get hisself loose from one small loony. Needs a woman to save him. Might as well give it up right now, change the name to the Aural McKesson Miracle Show, and hand her the business.

Tommy was in a state that night, and even the new variation that Aural had told Rae about, where she did what was called the butterfly, was able to distract him for only so long. Afterwards he was just as riled as ever.

"In the first place, I ain't no priest. You see a collar on me, Rae? I don't do confessions. You got something troubling your conscience? Keep it to yourself, don't go grabbing me in the middle of the show and telling me how bad you are, because I don't care. I'm a healer, Rae…"

"And the best."

"Damned straight. I'm a healer, not every lunatic's confidant. I don't want to hear that shit. I should have been an evangelist, Rae. They don't have to deal with all the whining and carrying on I do. All they have to do is preach."

"Did he come up to her afterwards?"

"There you go again, all the time asking about her. I'm the one had the little jerk hanging on me like he was drowning and was going to take me down with him."