C. Barry - Redemption

“I didn’t go to the funeral,” Louis continued. “I was mad at her for not leaving and for getting herself shot.”

Thane said nothing. What could he say?

“But tonight, after we killed that guy, I went to my mom’s grave by myself. I wanted to see her. Talk to her, you know? Tell her I was sorry. Let her know I wasn’t all bad.”

Louis’s hands were shaking, and he was fighting tears. Thane turned slightly in his chair and gave Louis the privacy he needed to finish.

“She was there,” he said.

Thane looked at him. “Your mother?”

Louis laughed. “Are you listening? My mom’s dead. No, the black ghost. She was there, watching me.”

What the hell? “How did she know you were there?”

Louis shrugged. “I don’t know. Didn’t ask.”

“Then what happened?”

Louis licked his lips. “I told my mom everything. All the bad stuff I’d done. About killing the man. Why I left her. And then…” He shook his head, breaking the spell he’d been under. “I ain’t saying no more.”

“Did the woman say something to you?” Thane asked him. “What did she say?”

Louis fought the tears, but they won out. “She asked me if I was sorry for my sins.”

A chill settled over Thane, filling every part of his body.

“I said ‘yeah,’” Louis continued. Tears streamed down his face, and he didn’t even try to hide them. “I said ‘yeah.’ Then she just left.”

“Nothing else?” Thane pressed.

“No. She was gone.”

“Disappeared?” Thane suggested.

Louis nodded. “So I went back to where we left the guy and called 911.”

Thane glanced at the one-way mirror and then asked in a low voice, “Did you hear anyone whispering?”

Louis blinked at him like he was crazy. “What?”

“Never mind. Thanks for your help.”

Thane got up to leave, and Louis looked at him. His eyes were full of pain and regret. “I wanted to do one right thing in my life, you know? To make my mom proud.”

His honesty and desperation cut through Thane. Louis knew exactly what would happen to him now. He was completely lucid. And he was a dead man walking.

“You did, Louis.”

“So what do you think?” Martin said as Thane settled at his desk facing his partner.

“He’s telling the truth.”

Martin frowned at him. “No way. What kind of guy turns on his own gang just like that?”

Maybe someone who saw a ghost. “I don’t know, but he believes what he’s saying. That’s all I can tell you.”

“Yeah, well the defense attorney hears this, and they are going to the insanity plea,” Martin said. “He’ll be spending the rest of his days eating pudding and crocheting.”

Thane shoved over the pile of papers on his desk. He needed to move, not sit at his desk for the rest of his shift. “He won’t live that long.”

Martin nodded slowly. “You’re right about that. What could be worse than getting executed for ratting on your gang?”

Living with regret , Thane thought. Shame had the power to destroy lives. He’d seen it happen, and he’d felt it. He understood Louis completely.

“Now we can put an APB out on her,” he said, standing up. “And I want to check out the murder scene. You interested?”

His partner gave a loud sigh and grabbed his suit coat. “Do I have a choice? I can’t let you out of my sight.”

Thane smiled at him. “I didn’t know you cared.”

“I care about my pension,” Martin said and walked out ahead of him.

They made their way to Martin’s car in the parking garage. The rain was easing up only slightly as they pulled out into traffic and headed to Brooklyn.

The conversation with Louis ran through Thane’s head. Louis had called her a ghost because she walked through his body. As much as Thane found that very hard to believe, he couldn’t shake the transformation in Louis or the cross burned into his chest. Whatever had happened, it was enough to convert a hardened criminal in ten seconds or less.

Ghost or not, that was a damn miracle.

By the time they arrived at the crime scene, Thane had almost convinced himself that she was a ghost. Not that he was telling Martin.

They parked the car in front of the location where Alexander’s body had been found. The victim’s vehicle had already been towed; only a pile of broken glass marked its passing. Rain had washed away most of the blood.

Thane stood over the glass and scanned the neighborhood. “Not the kind of place a man with a Lexus would be hanging around. What do you think? Drugs? Hookers?”

Martin checked his phone. “According to the investigation so far, his wife had to work a double-shift at the hospital and he was picking her up.”

Why did he stop here then? “Did the car break down?”

“That’s what we thought at first,” Martin said. “It has been partially stripped, but the impound guys said the engine started right up for them.”

Had she stopped his car somehow? Thane wondered, and walked the street, looking for any clue of his mystery woman. “Don’t suppose we have any surveillance in this area?”

Martin laughed. “You know how valuable that equipment is?”

Right. “Wouldn’t want to waste it on the areas that really need it.”

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up,” Martin said, eyeing him.

Thane spotted an old neighborhood Catholic church. A single spire rose up from the door’s stone archway to a point at the top, crowned by a cross. “Not giving up.”

“Well, I don’t see anything here,” Martin said. “And it’s time to check out for the day. You ready?”

“I’m going to talk to a few people. I’ll take a cab.”

Martin shrugged. “Fine with me. Stay out of trouble.”

“Always.”

“Now I’m worried,” Martin muttered and sauntered away.

Thane crossed the street, climbed the church steps, and pulled on the massive iron handle. The door swung open. It was dark and silent inside. He stepped through and let the door close behind him, returning the interior to darkness. Nothing stirred except the flames on the rows of candles in the front of the church.

Thane walked down the aisle between the heavy oak pews toward the altar. Although he’d been raised Catholic, it had been a very long time since he’d been in a church. In fact, it had been more than fifteen years since he’d said a word to God. Thane was giving Him the silent treatment. It wasn’t working.

A lone figure sat in the first pew—an old man wearing a faded suit. His hat was clipped to the pew in front of him. His head was bowed, deep in prayer.

Thane noticed that the light over the confessional was on. He resisted the urge to say “to hell with it,” and opened the side door to step inside. He knelt and the center window opened, revealing an obscured face behind the grill. The priest murmured his greeting, and then waited for Thane to start.

“I’m sorry to bother you in this way,” he said.

“It’s no bother, my son.”

The “my son” didn’t set very well. “I’m Detective Thane Driscoll. I’m an investigator for the NYC Police Department. I have a few questions for you.”

There was a quick inhale on the other side of the grill. “This is really not the place—”

“I know,” Thane said. “It’s about the man who was killed here last night.”

“A tragic loss,” the priest said.

“Did you know him?” Thane asked.

“No, not personally but—”

“All God’s children,” Thane muttered, and then winced from old conditioning. “Did you see or hear anything?”

“I’m afraid not,” the priest said. “I live in the rectory, the next block over.”