Eppley Airport
Omaha, Nebraska

Cunningham had told Maggie that she didn’t need to be there to see Keller off, but she insisted. If she had to keep her end of the bargain and let him go, she wanted to make certain Father Michael Keller got on his plane and left for South America and this time never came back. She considered flying with him to Chicago just to make sure he made his connecting flight. There was a two-hour layover and she didn’t trust him. What would stop him, she asked her boss, from just walking away, taking a cab from O’Hare and sneaking off to blend into rural North America instead of South America?

That wasn’t her concern, Cunningham had told her. She was to see Keller made his flight. That was it. End of her deal. End of her obligation. He made it sound so easy.

Keller had refused to even get in the same vehicle she was in and accepted the alternative, a ride in an Omaha squad car with a police officer Pakula had assigned for the task. Keller seemed pleased with the escort. And she wished she could slap that smug look off his face. The thought of letting him go made her insides feel like liquid fire. And yet, she stood back and watched him walk down the terminal’s ramp to get in line for the security check.

She had done her job. That was it. She didn’t need to rub her own nose in it by standing around watching. She had other things to attend to, like Gwen. When she talked to her this morning her friend sounded in good spirits but very weak and vulnerable. She seemed overly concerned about Harvey though Julia Racine appeared to be taking good care of him. Gwen said she was okay about what had happened, but Maggie knew better. She wanted to see for herself and would be leaving for home tomorrow despite the fact that not all the pieces of this case’s puzzle fit to her liking.

She turned to leave the terminal and almost bumped into Sister Kate Rosetti.

“Maggie, hi. Are you leaving for home?”

“Tomorrow. Where are you off to?” Maggie almost didn’t recognize her. She wore blue jeans, another bright-colored T-shirt that read Pensacola Seafood Festival and tennis shoes. She carried a duffel bag over her shoulder and her short hair was flat today as if she hadn’t had time to style it after getting out of the shower. She had to wait for an answer. They were right under a loudspeaker and it blared out instructions about not leaving luggage unattended.

“I have a presentation in Chicago this weekend,” Sister Kate finally said when it was all clear.

“That’s right. You mentioned it at dinner.”

“One more job and that’s it.”

“You won’t miss it?” Maggie asked.

“No, I won’t,” she said. Then, smiling and placing her hand over her heart like she was preparing for some Girl Scout pledge, she added, “On my grandfather’s honor, this is my last job.”

“After all your trips, at least you’ve learned to travel light.”

“I wish. I have all my samples in my checked luggage. I don’t like to chance getting asked a lot of questions going through security with a couple of thirteenth-century daggers.” She laughed and Maggie joined her.

Again the loudspeaker interrupted them: “United flight 1270 for Denver at Gate 29 and United flight 1690 for Chicago at Gate 14 are now boarding.”

“That’s me. I’d better go.” But she didn’t move. “It was really a pleasure meeting you, Maggie.”

“I enjoyed it, too, and I now know more about daggers than I ever wanted to know.”

“You take care of yourself,” Sister Kate said, her voice somber and not as jovial as just minutes before. She gave Maggie a one-armed hug to avoid knocking her with her duffel bag.

“You, too.”

Maggie watched her show her ID and continue down the terminal ramp to the security checkpoint which had cleared a bit and wasn’t as busy. She glanced over her shoulder one last time to wave and Maggie waved back. As Sister Kate continued down the ramp she pulled out a baseball cap from her duffel bag and slung it on. Maggie smiled. She couldn’t help thinking that in her blue jeans, T-shirt, tennis shoes and a baseball cap she looked like one of her teenage students. And then it hit Maggie that from the back Sister Kate Rosetti looked so much like a teenage boy.

It came to Maggie in waves. All of it, everything in bits and pieces that by themselves didn’t mean anything but all together…The daggers went with her everywhere she traveled. She remembered Sister Kate telling them she had a presentation in Saint Louis the same weekend Father Kincaid had been killed in Columbia. She remembered Pakula’s map and the colored pins. Columbia wasn’t far from Saint Louis. How difficult would it be to stab Monsignor O’Sullivan here in the men’s bathroom at Omaha’s Eppley Airport? Then walk right next door into the women’s bathroom, clean up, change clothes and place the dagger—the murder weapon—into the luggage she would check. It sounded too simple.

Maggie leaned against a nearby wall, getting out of the passengers’ way but needing the extra support if her knees failed to hold her up. Her mind continued to reel. Who better to be the advocate for abused boys than a woman, a nun who may have had to stand by and know about the abuse? Maybe she had even caught Monsignor O’Sullivan with one of the boys at the school.

She remembered Sister Kate’s own story of abuse. The man was someone her parents trusted—no, she said revered. Could he have been a priest? That’s when Maggie remembered the T-shirt. Sister Kate was from Pensacola, Florida. Was it possible she was the eleven-year-old girl Father Rudy had raped? Is that why he hadn’t been on the list? It made sense now. She’d taken care of him for herself. For her own peace of mind. There was no need for him to be on the list.

But what about James Campion? Pakula was hoping to blame him for all the priests’ murders. Maggie had never been certain that James Campion was The Sin Eater. It made more sense that Campion was simply playing the Internet game and impatient that The Sin Eater hadn’t killed his priest yet. Gwen had told her that Campion kept raging about some game and breaking the rules.

Maggie ran her fingers through her hair. She hadn’t gotten much sleep in the last several nights. She wasn’t thinking straight. And yet it all seemed crystal clear. She remembered Sister Kate brushing her roommate’s dog hair off her blouse the other night at dinner. Monsignor O’Sullivan had dog hair on the back of his polo shirt, possibly a transfer of debris from the killer. Her other roommate just happened to be a computer whiz who had taught Sister Kate to design some of her own programs and possibly an incredible Internet game. She had probably also learned enough from her roommate to know what was necessary to make it impossible for the Omaha Police Department and the FBI to track down a simple e-mail address that belonged to The Sin Eater.

It seemed too fantastic. But it all seemed to fit.

The loudspeaker announced the last boarding call for United 1690 to Chicago. That’s when it suddenly occurred to Maggie. United 1690 to Chicago was the flight Father Michael Keller was taking.

Oh, Jesus!

Is that what Sister Kate meant by “one last job”? He was scheduled to have a two-hour layover in Chicago before his connecting flight to Venezuela. Sister Kate’s presentation was in Chicago so she’d be getting her checked luggage, the luggage with her choice of daggers.

Maggie glanced at her watch and went searching for and found the nearest departure board. Fifteen minutes left. She had her badge and her weapon and her cell phone. She could stop the flight. It would be messy but she could do it.

Then she stopped. She tried to calm herself. She remembered last night, how badly she wanted to pull the trigger. She reminded herself how Keller’s eyes darted off to the left when she confronted him about using past tense when he talked about Arturo. If her instincts were right, he had never stopped killing little boys, nor would he just because she’d smacked him around a little. And deep down, her gut kept telling her he had no intention of returning to South America.

Sister Kate had told her this was her last job and Maggie thought she meant her last presentation. Now she knew the nun was talking about her last hit. But she had said this was the last. No, she had promised on her grandfather’s honor.

Maggie glanced at her watch again. Ten minutes. She could still stop the flight. She stood there, leaning against the wall and staring down the ramp, watching passengers come and go. Finally she pushed away from the wall. She hesitated as she looked down the terminal ramp to the boarding gates. Then Maggie O’Dell turned and walked in the other direction.