Т Паркер - The Last Good Guy

“Vengeance for what?” I asked.

“Refusing her attentions.”

“Have you threatened her?”

“My dear Lord, with what?”

“Why don’t you take a paternity test?”

“That was my wife’s first reaction, too, Mr. Ford. I’ve been demanding one for fourteen years now. Very privately, as you must understand. Penelope won’t allow it. She claims that it would shatter her sister. But she knows very well what it would prove. Or I should say, what it wouldn’t prove.”

“Why are you here?”

“I want you to find Daley. Bring me to her, or her to me — however you do this kind of thing. Then help me convince her to take a paternity test to prove medically that I’m not Daley’s father. This all has to happen in absolute privacy. I have a ministry, a reputation, and a family to protect. Absolutely no publicity of any kind. I will not enter the social arena of hate. A sealed secret. Daley, Penelope, and me. You will be the impartial enforcer and referee. You can oversee the test. If you would like, I will hire a nurse or doctor who can be trusted. You will make sure the blood is drawn properly and the test is done perfectly and without incident. It would take less than five minutes.”

I tried to think my way through his delicate proposition. It was perilous but possible. I thought it strange that he showed so little concern for a missing fourteen-year-old girl, beyond her ability to help him prove his case. “And?”

“And after that, maybe the three of us — Daley, you, and I — can convince Penelope to get the help she desperately needs. She has driven her own sister into the night. Look at the violence that has followed her. Think of what can happen to an undefended girl in an evil time. The police can’t find her. The agencies can’t find her. Even you are having your own troubles in that regard. Mr. Ford, you can see that Daley Rideout needs a capable guardian, and Penelope is not that.”

In Pastor Reggie Atlas, I was up against a real pro when it came to selling ideas you couldn’t prove. I considered his youthful-for-his-years face, his boyish hair, his eager blue eyes. Faithful eyes. Hopeful.

“I’ve been hired by Penelope to find Daley,” I said. “I can’t take money from two people for the same job.”

“Then terminate her contract and name your price,” said Atlas. “With a bigger budget you can hire some skilled confederates and find Daley faster. That would be a good thing for everyone. Daley would be protected, I would finally be exonerated, and Penelope could save her hard-earned dollars.”

“You are a convincing man, Pastor Atlas.”

“I’m a tired man, too, Mr. Ford.”

He stood somewhat stiffly, tapping his hat on his leg as he walked to the window. I wondered how many hours he’d spent performing. I wondered if preachers, like actors and undercover agents, occasionally got lost in their roles. He looked out at Fallbrook.

“Reminds me of small towns all over America,” he said. “They all look different, but there’s a sameness to them. The people tend to be good people. Things are slower. Down there I see a barbershop with an old-fashioned barber’s pole outside. I see a candy store. Down the street, a hardware store. Joe’s Hardware. What a great name for a hardware store. I like an America this size.”

“There was a sex-and-torture dungeon in a house just a few blocks from here,” I said. “Chains and mattresses. Wall fasteners and hand tools. A couple set it up. The cops shut it down when a young woman died there.”

He turned. “Why do you bring that up? What is the point you’re trying to make?”

“That faces can hide secrets. For a while.”

“But why focus on the evil?”

“I like dogs and children,” I said.

“Meaning what?”

“I appreciate innocence, too.”

Pastor Atlas gave me a look that said I should be dunked as a suspected witch. Or maybe just locked in stocks right down there on Main Street, where the dogs and children I like so much could torment me.

“I’m tired of trying to hold up the whole of grim humanity,” he said.

“Then drop us. We might not need you.”

“Jesus hears every word you say.”

“Oh, he’s heard worse from me.”

Atlas sighed, looked out the window again.

“Mr. Ford, I’m tired of defending myself, my family, and my ministry from a troubled woman and her dangerous delusions. I need your help to put this all to an end.”

“Why start now?”

He put on his hat and gave the brim a rural tilt, then sat back down and pulled his chair closer.

“Start? I’ve tried before. This isn’t the first time Daley has run away. She ran away from home in Denver, Salt Lake City, and Reno, too. And in Eugene, Prescott, and other cities and towns. Now Oceanside. Every time she escapes, Penelope comes after me again. I’m not hard to find. She hires a PI or a lawyer or worse. Suggests without evidence that I have kidnapped her sister. Or simply had her abducted. Or... sweet Lord, there’s no end to Satan’s imagination. To tales of me and my bus and the blood of Jesus mixed with drugs. As you know, firsthand. Did your version include the baptism from the silver bowl, or the robes sprinkled in holy water? One day, some well-meaning person will believe her, and my reputation will be functionally ruined. Thus I come to you.”

“When was the last time you saw Daley?”

“Late August. She brought a friend to the cathedral.”

“Just a few days ago, you didn’t remember seeing her.”

A brisk nod. “The mind investigates while the body sleeps.”

I was familiar with that phenomenon. “And before that?”

“Four years ago. When she was ten. It was the first time I’d actually laid eyes on her, outside of pictures sent to me by her sister. This was before I opened the cathedral. Penelope brought her to my event at a convocation in Las Vegas. They sat in the very back. I was terrified. It was the most difficult sermon I’ve ever given. I had no idea why Penelope was there. No idea what she might do.”

“What did she do?”

“Nothing, praise the Lord. They left before the service was over. I had trouble sleeping for weeks. So worried what Penelope might be planning. Inconsolable, even to my wife.”

“Did you communicate with Daley after that?”

Atlas held my stare for a long beat. Then smiled. “Yes. I answered an email. It arrived on my webpage not long after the Las Vegas show. She wanted to know if Jesus could love a girl who fell asleep almost every night before finishing the Lord’s Prayer.”

“What did you tell her?”

“Yes, I told her. Of course Jesus loves you. I think I suggested she say her prayer earlier. Such as after dinner, or maybe even first thing in the morning.”

“Did you ever tell her that you two were like ghosts flying through each other?”

Atlas frowned amiably, shaking his head with some good humor. “I’m sure I did not.”

“Did she write again?”

“Every few months.”

“And you wrote back?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

I shrugged.

“Mr. Ford, will you find Daley and arrange the test? You are my best hope.”

I thought about my decision, but not for long. “I’ll let you know when I locate Daley Rideout. Until then, you can keep your money and I’ll stay in the service of Penelope under the conditions set forth.”

He stood. “Quixote had a wooden lance. All you have is a wooden head.”

“It’s good hard wood.”

“It looks a little beat-up right now. Car wreck?”

I could have said something about Reggie’s connection to SNR Security, but I didn’t. No good reason to reveal what I knew. No reason to train a searchlight on myself.