Lethal Expedition

Epilogue

A week after Easter Sunday, Hallie sat in the front pew on the left side of the cathedral’s nave aisle. The whole vast space resonated with the organ’s chords. Hallie watched Bishop Newberry emerge from her anteroom and climb to the Canterbury Pulpit, bathed in a cascade of golden morning light.

Hallie was not a regular churchgoer. She found her higher power in mountains and caves and oceans and, sometimes, in other people. But medieval cathedral builders had spun magic from stone and glass and light. Their designs had guided the creation of this cathedral, as well, and the passing centuries had diminished that magic not one bit. She felt good here, felt like she did in those other places, her mind clear, heart open, at peace.

Because of her work and her nature, Hallie usually dressed in jeans, running shoes, and old shirts. Today, she wore a white silk blouse, a pale yellow jacket and skirt, and low-heeled ivory pumps. After all, jeans would hardly have been appropriate for someone seated next to the president of the United States.