Faye Kellerman - Prayers for the Dead

Just how much was Waterson involved in this mess? Did he orchestrate the whole thing?

Decker regarded Dolly intensely. Her eyes were rolling and unfocused, her mouth slightly agape, tiny rills of drool amassing at the corners. Her body held a slight twitch. Unnatural. As if on strong, strong medication. Too zonked out to plan something like murder on her own.

She must have had help. Once she had been a user. Maybe Waterson had known about the addiction. Prodding her along, keeping her dazed and confused, because the lawyer had had a vested interest in keeping Dolly’s checkbook open for consumption.

The woman wept. “Oh my cursed life. And all I ever wanted to be was a good wife.”

She squeezed Bram’s hands with both of hers, the hard gun between them pressing deep into her fleshy palms. Decker took a step toward them.

“William sowed evil in my soul, Abram,” she continued. “He used the anger in my heart for his own wretched purposes. He enticed me to do evil…like Eve did unto Adam. He swore sweet words of God and everlasting love. William is a vile, vile man. Abram, I swear I never meant for anyone to die-”

“Mom,” Bram said quietly, “if you love me…if you want me to help you, please, please, give me the gun.”

“Don’t leave me, Abram.”

“Never.”

“Don’t ever go back to Rome.”

“It’s not even a consideration,” Bram spoke soothingly. “I’ll stay here and be with you. We’ll work things out. But first you have to give me the gun.”

Decker crept closer, looked over his shoulder. Oliver gave him the thumbs-up sign. Backup had arrived.

Dolly said, “You won’t go back to Rome? You’ll be here with me?”

Bram said, “For as long as you need me.”

“Forever?”

“Yes, forever and ever,” Bram whispered. “Let go of the gun, Mom. Just loosen your grip…”

Decker saw the priest’s slender fingers working their way into his mother’s hold on the gun, prying her hand from the grip.

“That’s a good girl,” Bram encouraged. “Just relax your hand.”

Slowly, he managed to wriggle his fingers around the weapon, extracting the gun from her with much deliberation. As soon as he freed it from her grasp, he placed it on the floor, gently pushing it toward Decker’s direction. Kneeling, Decker retrieved the semi and took out the magazine clip. For the first time, he realized how wet his hands were, face and body drenched with sweat.

Bram held his mother’s hands. As he stood, he brought her up from the chair.

“I love you, son,” she said, crying.

“I love you, too.”

“You’ll never leave me?”

“Never.”

“You’ll stay with me forever?”

“Yes, Mom, I’ll stay with you forever.”

“But what will happen when they come for you, Abram? When those idol-worshiping bishops call you to Rome?”

“I won’t go, Mom. I won’t leave you.”

No one spoke.

Bram inched his mother forward. “We have to go to the police now, Mom. We’ll get you a very good lawyer. Then you and he can talk about Mr. Waterson…what he told you, what he did.”

Dolly stopped walking. “He’s an evil, evil man.”

“Yes, he is. And we’ll tell the police that.” Bram glanced at Decker. Decker nodded back. The priest continued. “Once your lawyer arrives, you can tell them all about Mr. Waterson. The lieutenant here? He’ll want to hear what you have to say. Right, Lieutenant?”

“Right,” Decker answered.

Bram said, “And I’ll be with you when you talk to the lieutenant. I’ll be with you, your lawyer will be with you…isn’t that right, Lieutenant?”

“Absolutely,” Decker replied.

“You love me?” Dolly asked her son.

“Yes, Mom, I love you very much.”

“Hug me, Abram. Hold me, please.”

The priest embraced his mother.

“Big bear hug, gorgeous.”

Bram squeezed his mother tightly.

“I love you, Abram,” Dolly said. “I want to be with you. I want to be with you, forever!”

The way she spoke sent chills through Decker’s spine, sent his reactions into overdrive. As soon as he saw her hand dip into her caftan, he charged her.

But a fraction too late.

Fire exploded from Dolly’s hand, Bram slipping from her grip, hitting the floor. Decker flew into her, knocking her down as the gun went skittering across the floor, firing as it hit the wall.

“Shit!” Decker screamed as he raced toward Bram. “Shit, shit, shit!”

Oliver wrestled Dolly to the floor. “I got her, Pete.”

“Oh my baby!” she moaned. “I’m supposed to die, too!”

“Get her out of here!”

“Oh my God!” Michael shrieked. “Oh my God, oh my God!”

A pair of uniforms ran into the room.

“Call Emergency now!” Decker yelled, turning Bram onto his back. He tore open the priest’s shirt while blood spurted from inch-round bullet holes in his chest and stomach, dousing Decker’s face and clothes. Decker placed pressure on the priest’s chest with one hand, fished for his keys with the other. Attached to the ring was a Swiss army knife. He unlatched the blade, sliced into Abram’s flesh and inner fascia. His fingers dove into a blind hole of viscera, searching desperately for the ruptured arteries. He shrieked out, “Somebody call it in?”

“It’s been called in, Pete,” Marge answered.

Decker screamed, “Michael, get over here!”

Immediately, the med student leaped into action.

“Hold this spot,” Decker said, guiding his hand into the priest’s insides.

Bram whispered, “Your father was a good man, Michael. Don’t let anyone tell you diff-” He was suddenly seized with uncontrollable cramps. “Oh God have mercy!”

In Oliver’s hands Dolly wailed, “I want to die. I’m supposed to die! Please let me die!”

“Get her out of here!” Decker barked.

Again, Bram attempted speech. “A…tortured man…even so, he remained faithful to Mom to the end…He swore to me…” His body writhed in agony. “Oh sweet Jesus!”

“Just hang in there, Abram,” Decker whispered. “You’re going to be-”

“A good man, Michael…and Mom’s a good wo-” He cried out as searing pain swept through his body.

“Shhhh,” Decker purred. The priest’s body was still spewing blood. Decker frantically tried to staunch the flow. “Press down right here,” he ordered Michael. Out loud, he said, “I need more hands. Marge, get over here!”

Marge froze with indecision, regarding her ungloved hands.

“Move it, Dunn!” Decker ordered.

She ran to him. Decker grabbed her hand. “Press here.”

Bram looked at Marge. “My blood’s clean. I haven’t…” His body broke into spastic convulsions.

“Hold his legs with your knees, Michael.”

“I hurt, Peter.”

“Shhhh,” Decker cooed. “You’re gonna be all right-”

“No, I’m not-” More spasms. His face sweating profusely, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth. “Rina had faith in me.”

Decker’s fingers found another ruptured vessel. He tightened his grip as best he could around the slippery, wet cord. “She had unshakable faith in you. Don’t talk, Abram.”

His voice was barely audible. “Tell her-” He began shaking uncontrollably.

“Shhhh.”

“Do you know…Psalms, Peter?”

“Not by heart, Abram. I’m sorry.”

“Rina knows Psalms…Tehillim.” He broke into a series of spasmodic coughs, hacking up gobs of blood and sputum. “Tell her…”

“I’ll tell her, Abram.” Decker gently wiped his mouth. “I’ll tell her to say Tehillim for you.”

The priest nodded. “I’m cold…”

Michael’s face was wet with tears and blood. He stuttered out, “He’s going into shock.”