Our Lady of Sorrow High School
Omaha, Nebraska

Nick couldn’t believe it. Just when things were settling down in his life and coming together…well, other than this colossal mess with Tony. Just when Nick was finally getting his life on track, in walks Maggie O’Dell. It didn’t help that she looked better than ever. He tried to remember how long ago it had been since they had seen each other. All he knew at the moment was that it was long enough ago that he shouldn’t have a knot in his stomach and weak knees like some high-school kid.

“Is there a problem here?” Pakula wanted to know, looking from Nick to Maggie.

“No problem,” she answered as if it were true. “Nick and I worked a case about four years ago out in Platte City.” Then she turned to Tony and put out her right hand, “Father Gallagher, I’m Maggie O’Dell, with the FBI.”

“Welcome to Our Lady of Sorrow High School,” Tony said as he shook her hand, but he glanced over at Nick with a knowing look as if to say “so this is Maggie.” And though Tony didn’t say it out loud Nick could almost feel the tips of his ears start to burn.

“Four years ago in Platte City?” Pakula was scratching his shaved head as if it would help him remember. “Ah, I remember. Gillick and Howard murdering those little boys.”

Yeah, that one, Nick wanted to say, but only nodded, waiting to see if Maggie would try to correct the record. She never did believe that Eddie Gillick and Ray Howard were murderers even though both men had been convicted and were serving life sentences. Maggie believed that Father Michael Keller, a handsome young priest who everyone in the community loved and adored, had chosen the boys because he thought they were being abused by their parents. She was convinced that Keller had been on a mission to save them and grant them eternal rest. It sounded as crazy now as it did then.

“Yes, that’s the case, Gillick and Howard,” Maggie said, her eyes meeting Nick’s.

But it wasn’t just the case, he wanted to tell her. There had been more between them, much more. Or at least there could have been if she had let it. But then she had made that decision all on her own without letting him have a say.

“Nick was the county sheriff at the time,” Tony added.

“Really? Maybe that’s where I remembered your name from,” Pakula said to Nick. “I’m usually pretty good with names. That was one helluva case.” Then Nick thought the detective’s eyes softened a bit. For a moment, perhaps, he was seeing Nick as a fellow lawman.

“I have four girls,” Pakula continued, “but it doesn’t matter when it’s kids. Every parent gets the jitters when something like that happens. One of my girls was about the age of those boys. She had a paper route, too. For weeks my wife and I took turns running her route with her. It was a scary time. Wasn’t there a little boy who got away?”

“Yeah,” Nick said. “My nephew, Timmy Hamilton.”

“Holy crap! How’s he doing?”

“He’s doing great,” Nick told Pakula, but he was still looking to Maggie as if his answer was for her, since she hadn’t even bothered to ask about Timmy. She seemed distracted, not even interested. “He’s starting here at Our Lady of Sorrow in the fall as a freshman.”

“That’s good. That’s great,” Pakula said, hands in his pockets, not knowing what else to do with them.

Nick could tell Pakula was sincere, but not so good at chitchat.

“Wow! Timmy’s going to be a freshman,” Maggie said, shaking her head. “How’s Christine?” she asked Nick.

“She’s good.” He shoved his hands in his jean pockets, too, following Pakula’s example, suddenly uncomfortable with Maggie asking personal questions about his sister, his family, his life, even though just seconds ago he was pissed that she hadn’t thought to ask about Timmy. “Why don’t we get started with your questions?” he suggested to Pakula, but looked at Tony as if to say, This is it. Let’s get it over with.

Nick offered Maggie the easy chair in the corner by the window and she slipped by him to take it without as much as a glance. He tried not to notice her scent, something fresh and exotic like coconut and lime. Probably her shampoo. He shook the thought away and retreated to the other side of the room to be close to Tony as his friend sat down behind his desk.

Pakula leaned against the doorjamb, filling it. Nick couldn’t help thinking how much the detective looked like a linebacker, flexing his shoulder blades, getting ready for his first tackle of the day. All that sincere crap already left behind. In an instant they had gone from fellow cops talking about a gruesome case to adversaries ready to outwit each other. Such is life. Nick was used to it, dealt with it every day as a deputy prosecutor. This shouldn’t be any different. This shouldn’t be personal. And yet, he glanced at Maggie, wondering what role she’d take.

“I saw the news this morning,” Tony said. “Sounds like you think Monsignor O’Sullivan’s murder could be connected to the one in Columbia, Missouri.”

“Possibly,” Pakula told him.

“What possible connection could there be?” Nick asked.

“That’s what we’re hoping Father Gallagher might be able to tell us.”

Nick thought that Pakula had definitely slipped back into his tough-detective role.

“I don’t know what you think Tony might be able to tell you,” Nick said, glancing at Tony, still wondering what Tony had omitted earlier.

“We actually have three victims, even though we only released two of them to the media. All three were stabbed to death in very public settings. Two were priests. One was an ex-priest,” Pakula said, crossing his arms, watching Tony. “I can’t tell you any of the details, but there are similarities. Now, if there is a connection between these three victims, we’re hoping Father Gallagher might tell us what that might be. Especially since he’s one of the few people who knew all three of them.”

“What?” Nick shot a look at Tony. “Is that true?”

“Surely you’re not saying I’m a suspect, Detective Pakula.” Tony avoided Nick’s question and his eyes. “If you are, I’m sure my friend and lawyer would advise me not to answer any of your questions.”

“Actually, Father Gallagher, no disrespect,” Maggie said from the corner, “but if you do need an attorney, Mr. Morrelli can’t represent you as long as he’s still a deputy prosecutor for the state of Massachusetts.”

“Is that right?” Pakula asked while Nick stood speechless, staring at his friend.

And then it occurred to Nick exactly why Maggie had come to this so-called interview. She was here to observe Tony. Was she already calculating whether or not he matched her profile? Did they really believe Tony could murder someone?

He looked over at Tony who was now sitting on the corner of his desk, appearing cool and calm and unfazed by Pakula’s questions. And despite confiding to Nick earlier that he had told Monsignor O’Sullivan he wouldn’t keep quiet this time if the allegations were true—despite that warning, here he was remaining quiet and evasive. And Nick couldn’t figure out why in the world he would do that.