Blood of Cain

82

A half hour later, two Volusia County Sheriff’s deputies and a rent-a-cop, hired by the marina, began to escort the news media off the private dock, back toward the Tiki Bar. In the meantime, Dave was searching online, and wherever else in the digital world where he finds data, people and places. He looked at me, over his laptop, bifocals at the tip of his nose, his probing face lit by the bluish light from the screen. “It took a little digging, but I found the current whereabouts of Father Thomas Garvey.”

Nick said, “Bet the old bastard is lying six feet under in an Irish cemetery.”

“No, he’s still alive and kicking. And he’s still a priest despite the fact that the Catholic Church relocated him to four different parishes, each time because of allegations of sex abuse. The church paid out more than six million in lawsuits filed against Father Garvey and two other Irish priests. Most of the class-action litigation filed years after the abuse. And Father Thomas Garvey was right in the thick of things. The church simply moved him around, paid hefty fines, and tried to keep a low profile.”

Nick said, “Just like whack-a-mole, you whack-a-pedophile-priest and he pops up somewhere else. Hide your kids, mama. There’s a new guy at the church. They rotate their pedophiles ‘till the music stops, and that’s a sad damn song.”

I set Max down on the salon floor. “Where is he right now?”

Dave looked down, through his bifocals, his eyes searching the screen. “A church in County Cork. St. Colman’s Cathedral. It’s in Cohb … an Irish seaport. He’s semi-retired. According to this bio, Father Garvey continues to serve God and his parishioners as a teacher, healer, and a minister, following the example set by the first priest, Jesus Christ.”

I thought of my mother, thought of what she endured. Thought of what might have happened had my father lived and not been shot in the back of his head. What would that have meant for me? The two people who raised me were fine, loving parents. The year of their tragic deaths, my mother died in a car accident a few months after my father was shot to death, was a life-changing year for me. I missed them then, and I miss them today. Now, I know, the only mother I’d ever known, was my biological mother’s cousin. I was fortunate. I had a good upbringing, and at the end I had four hours with the woman who had given me birth.

Dave closed his laptop and pushed back in his chair. “Sean, maybe Ireland’s not such a good idea. Even if you do go and find this guy, he might clamp up tighter than a clam. If he knows where Dillon Flanagan is, there’s no assurance he’ll tell you. And if he did, what’s to keep him from warning your brother? Maybe you can track Courtney down from here.”

“Time isn’t on my side. If Logan’s people can throw her into the trunk of a car, we’ll never find her. And the bastard will probably win the election, too.”

Nick said, “And don’t forget about your brother.”

“I can’t forget about him, the cold warning he whispered to me on the phone won’t leave.”

Dave pushed his glasses on the top of his head, buried in his thick, white hair. He exhaled like a bear and said, “Cain killed his brother, lied to God about it, was banished and roamed the earth. We know your brother, Dillon, is migratory — working carnivals, conning the faithful in small churches. I think you’re going to Ireland for an ulterior motive, too. The old priest might squawk and tell you where Dillon’s holing up, but the priest is the guy who raped your mother, impregnated her with a bastard son … and he may be the killer who ended your father’s life with a bullet. Since we’re talking forty-something years ago, way before all the public outcry over the clergy and pedophilia, here was a heterosexual priest raping young women under the bullshit deception of a divine plan. And it’s not until years later, his victims, all grown women, are finally heard. Unfortunately, your mother wasn’t one of them.”

I stood and stepped to the starboard window in the salon. The lone security guard paced at the end of the dock, near Jupiter. All of the news media were back at the public area, the head of the dock closest to the marina office and the Tiki Bar. I said, “Nick, I don’t want to walk through the mob. Can you bring your Zodiac around to Gibraltar’s stern? Max and I will hitch a ride with you to my Jeep.”

“No problem.” He left Gibraltar, hands buried in his jean pockets, looking east and west on the dock, as if there was two-way traffic. The news media on Nick’s mind.

Dave said, “You can leave Max here if you want. She’s no problem.”

“Thanks, but since I’m traveling overseas, I don’t know when I’ll return. And when I do come back, I’m going to be tracking down Courtney, or Dillon, or both. My neighbors, Martha and Herb on the river, will beat me up if I don’t let Max spend some time with them when I’m gone.”

Dave stepped from the salon to the door leading to Gibraltar’s cockpit, his eyes filled with concern, looking away from me, and then back. He said, “Be careful, Sean. I have an uncomfortable feeling about this one. You’re too close to the source. One way or the other, you’re untying family knots. Courtney. Your brother. The child you produced with Andrea Logan is presumably still out there somewhere in all of this. Make damn sure the knot you untie first is the hangman’s knot. Too many people want to slip it over your head and kick the chair out from under you. Be careful. We’ve seen you fight battles for others, but never have you had to battle your own family. When those combat aspects change, you change. I can already see it in your eyes. Revenge does not become you, Sean … it becomes the executioner, and it digs two graves.”

“That’s not my motivation. Courtney’s safety is.”

“Are you sure?” His eyes searched my face.

“Yes.”

“Okay then.” Dave exhaled and slapped me on the back. “Stay safe.”

“If you don’t hear from me in three days, I want you to upload the video confession of the guy I pulled from the river.”

“It’s definitely your ace in this house of cards. Play it smart, Sean.”

I heard Nick’s small Evinrude engine sputtering on the stern of his inflatable Zodiac. I scooped up Max, walked to the dive platform on the back of Gibraltar, and quickly got in the Zodiac. Nick nodded at Dave, gunned the little fifteen-horsepower motor, and we cut a path across the marina.

Max stepped to the bow and stood on her hind legs, ears flapping in the wind, eyes bright. I glanced back at Nick, his hand on the throttle, his seaman’s dark eyes searching the boats in the marina. He grinned and gave me the thumbs up sign. I nodded and did the same. As we glided over the water, Dave’s voiced replayed back in my head like a smooth stone skipping across the surface of my thoughts. Revenge does not become you, Sean … it becomes the executioner, and it digs two graves.