Nora Roberts - Sacred Sins

“A spotless victim,” Tess repeated. “White for purity.” She looked at Ben with a dull horror. “Not saving. Not saving so much as sacrificing. And when he’s here, he twists all this so that it reinforces what he’s doing. He wouldn’t fall apart here, not here. He feeds off this in the most unhealthy way.”

She watched the priest consume the wafer, then after the sign of the cross, drink the wine. Symbols, she thought. But how far had one man taken them beyond symbols to flesh and blood?

The priest held up the host and spoke in a clear voice. “Behold the Lamb of God, behold Him who takes away the sins of the world. Lord, I am not worthy that You should come under my roof. Speak but the word and my soul will be healed.”

Members of the congregation began to shift out of pews and shuffle down the aisle to receive communion.

“Do you think he’d take communion?” Ben murmured, watching the slow-moving line.

“I don’t know.” She suddenly felt cold, cold and unsure. “I think he’d need to. It’s renewing, isn’t it?”

The body of Christ.

“Yeah, that’s the idea.”

The man who’d been paging through the hymnal rose to go to the altar. The other man Ben had watched kept his seat, with his head bent either in prayer or a light doze.

There was another who felt the need and the longing rise up urgently inside him. His hands nearly trembled with it. He wanted the offering, the flesh of his Lord to fill him and wash away all stain of sin.

He sat as the church filled with voices.

“You’re born in sin,” his mother had told him. “You’re born sinful and unworthy. It’s a punishment, a righteous one. All of your life you’ll fall into sin. If you die in sin, your soul is damned.”

“Restitution,” Father Moore had warned him. “You must make restitution for sin before it can be forgiven and absolved. Restitution. God demands restitution.”

Yes, yes, he understood. He’d begun restitution. He’d brought four souls to the Lord. Four lost, seeking souls to pay for the one Laura had lost. The Voice demanded two more for full payment.

“I don’t want to die.” Laura, in delirium, had gripped his hands. “I don’t want to go to hell. Do something. Oh, please, God, do something.”

He wanted to clasp his hands over his ears, to fall on his knees at the altar and take the host into himself. But he wasn’t worthy. Until his mission was finished, he wouldn’t be worthy.

“The Lord be with you,” the priest said clearly.

“ Et cum spiri tutuo ,” he murmured.

Tess let the freshening breeze outside play on her face and revive her after over three hours of services. The frustration was back as she watched the stragglers from late Mass stroll to their cars; frustration and a vague, nagging feeling that he’d been close all along.

She linked her arm with Ben’s. “What now?”

“I’m going into the station, make a few calls. Here’s Roderick.”

Roderick came down the steps, nodded to Tess, then sneezed three times into his handkerchief. “Sorry.”

“You look terrible,” Ben commented, and lit a cigarette.

“Thanks. Pilomento’s checking out a license plate. Said a guy across from him mumbled to himself through the last service.” He tucked the handkerchief away and shivered a bit in the wind. “I didn’t know you’d be here, Dr. Court.”

“I thought I might be able to help.” She looked at his reddened eyes , sympathizing when he was wracked with a fit of coughing. “That sounds bad. Have you seen a doctor?”

“No time.”

“Half the department’s down with flu,” Ben put in. “Ed’s threatened to wear a face mask.” Thinking of his partner, he looked back at the church. “Maybe they had better luck.”

“Maybe,” Roderick agreed, wheezing. “You going in?”

“Yeah, I’ve got some calls to make. Do me a favor. Go home and take something for that. Your desk’s upwind from mine.”

“I’ve got a report.”

“Screw the report,” Ben said, then shifted as he remembered he stood a couple of yards from the church. “Keep your germs home for a couple of days, Lou.”

“Yeah, maybe. Give me a call if Ed came up with anything.”

“Sure. Take it easy.”

“And see a doctor,” Tess added.

He managed a weak smile and headed off.

“Sounds to me like it’s heading into his lungs,” she murmured, but when she turned back to Ben, she saw his mind was already on other things. “Look, I know you’re anxious to make calls. I’ll take a cab home.”

“What?”

“I said I’ll take a cab home.”

“Why? Tired of me?”

“No.” To prove it, she brushed her lips over his. “I know you’ve got work you want to do.”

“So come with me.” He wasn’t ready to let her go yet, or give up whatever private, uncomplicated time might be left of the weekend. “After I tie things up, we can go back to your place and…” He bent down and nipped her earlobe.

“Ben, we can’t make love all the time.”

With his arm around her, he walked to the car. “Sure we can. I’ll show you.”

“No, really. There are biological reasons. Trust me, I’m a doctor.”

He stopped by the car door. “What biological reasons?” I'm starving.

“Oh.” He opened the door for her then went around to the driver’s side. “Okay, so we’ll make a quick stop at the market on the way. You can fix lunch.” I can?

“I fixed breakfast.”

“Oh, so you did.” She settled back, finding the idea of a cozy

Sunday afternoon appealing. “All right, I’ll fix lunch. I hope you like cheese sandwiches.”

He leaned close, so that his breath feathered over her lips. “Then I’ll show you what people are supposed to do on Sunday afternoons.”

Tess let her eyes flutter half closed. “And what’s that?”

“Drink beer and watch football.” He kissed her hard, and started the car as she laughed.

He watched them huddled together in the car. He’d seen her in church. His church. It was a sign, of course, that she should come to pray in his church. At first it had upset him a little, then he’d realized she’d been guided there.

She would be the last one. The last, before himself.

He watched the car pull out, caught a glimpse of her hair through the side window. A bird landed in the branch of the denuded tree beside him and looked down with bright black eyes, his mother’s eyes. He went home to rest.

“I think I FOUND a place.”

Ed sat solidly at his desk, hammering away two finger-style at his typewriter.

“Oh, yeah?” Ben sat at his own, the map of the city in front of him again. Patiently, he drew lines with a pencil to connect the murder scenes. “A place for what?”

“To live.”

“Umm-hmm.”

Someone opened the refrigerator and complained loudly that their A amp; W had been stolen. No one paid any attention. The staff had been whittled down by the flu and a double homicide near Georgetown University. Someone had taped a cardboard turkey onto one of the windows, but it was the only outward sign of holiday cheer. Ben put a light circle around Tess’s apartment building before he glanced over at Ed.

“So when are you moving?”

“Depends.” Ed frowned at the keys, hesitated, then found his rhythm again. “Have to see if the contract goes through.”

“You having someone killed so you can rent their apartment?”

“Contract of sale. Shit, this typewriter’s defective.”

“Sale?” Ben dropped his pencil and stared. “You’re buying a place? Buying ?”

“That’s right.” Ed patiently applied Liquid Paper to his last mistake, blew on it, then typed the correction. He kept a can of Lysol spray at his elbow. If anyone who looked contagious walked by, he sprayed the area. “You suggested it.”