Long Road to Mercy

Chapter 32

It was still storming outside when Pine awoke early that evening. She rolled over and let out a groan as soon as all the aches and pains hit her.

She shuffled into the bathroom and took a steaming hot shower, letting the water sink into her soreness. She toweled off, dressed, and walked out into the kitchen, where Blum was sitting with Pine’s laptop and a cup of coffee in front of her.

“Your face looks a lot better,” noted Blum.

“Looks can be deceiving.”

“You want coffee? I just made a fresh pot.”

“I’m good.”

“Do you want something to eat?”

“I got it.”

Pine opened the fridge and grabbed some yogurt. She took a spoon from a drawer, sat down at the table, and started slowly spooning the yogurt into her mouth.

“That’s not a lot of nourishment,” said Blum.

“For someone who got kicked in the face with a sledgehammer made of flesh and bone, it’s just fine. I’m not up to chewing yet. Or hot beverages. The tea you gave me earlier did a number on the inside of my mouth.”

“Oh, right.”

Pine looked at the laptop screen. “Figured out the password?”

“Not even close. And without Bureau resources, how do we crack it?”

Pine set her yogurt and spoon down.

“Let’s put this into some context. I found the flash drive in a basketball. Along with an old football trophy. There were also some gym socks and a basketball jersey.” Pine paused and thought back. “On the jersey was printed ‘Catholic Church League.’”

“Catholic churches have basketball leagues?” said Blum.

“Apparently so.”

“What’s your friend’s Wi-Fi password?”

Pine said, “Semper Primus.” When Blum glanced at her, she explained, “Latin for ‘Always First.’ It’s the Army motto.”

Blum went online and typed in a search for Catholic churches near Priest’s home.

“There’s the Basilica of St. Mary Catholic Church in Old Town Alexandria. It’s only a short walk from Priest’s house.”

Pine rose and grabbed her jacket off the back of the chair.

“Where are you going?”

“To church.”

“You want company?”

“No. You better stay here.”

“Since you’re going to a place of worship, I’ll say a prayer for you.”

“Can’t hurt,” said Pine over her shoulder.

The Basilica of St. Mary was the oldest Catholic church in Virginia. It was located on South Royal Street and its gray stone facade was gothic in appearance. Its stark front was softened somewhat by four sets of wooden double doors with brass kickplates.

The rain had slackened when Pine pulled to a stop across the street and looked around. There were a few people on the sidewalks, and a truck slowly drove down the street before its taillights disappeared into the darkness.

The sign in front of the church said it had been established in 1795. A white statue of the eponymous Mary was set in a niche of the building’s facade high above the main front door.

Pine got out and walked across the street. She made a searching look all around and then headed up the steps.

The door was fortunately unlocked. She stepped inside and shut it behind her.

She moved through another set of doors and found herself in the worship area proper.

The stained glass windows were immense and colorful. As she looked toward the front of the church she saw Jesus hanging on a cross, which was mounted to the wall behind the marble-floored altar. There were two sets of wooden pews set on either side of the broad nave.

Pine really had no idea why she was even here. Just a reference to a church basketball league? A dubious connection if ever there was one. And yet what other leads did she have?

She took a seat in the front pew and continued to examine the space, looking for anything that might help her.

As she was sitting there, a man walked out from a door behind the altar.

His white collar indicated he was a priest. He was tall, nearly six six, and young, maybe late thirties, with a shock of red hair and sprinkles of freckles.

Maybe a classic Irish priest, mused Pine. She wondered how many of those were still around.

“Hello,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ve missed the last Mass.”

“I just stopped in to, I guess, meditate a bit. I hope it’s okay.”

“It certainly is. We are open for all those seeking a quiet space in which to think and practice their faith.”

He drew closer and started when he saw her battered face. “Are you all right?”

“Car accident a few days ago. Still a bit banged up.”

He looked at her with a dubious expression. “I’ve had women come in before and tell me that. If things are not going well at home, I’m here to listen. No one should be abused by another. I can help you with that. We can offer shelter. And maybe you should think about calling the authorities.”

In answer, Pine smiled and held up her ringless hand. “I’m not married. And I do MMA. There aren’t many guys around who could take me. I really did have an accident.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. But with the way people drive around here. And everyone texting.” He extended a hand. “I’m Father Paul.”

“I’m Lee,” said Pine, shaking his hand.

“Do you live around here?”

“No, I’m actually visiting. I live out west.”

“The wide-open spaces, then?”

“A lot wider than here. Father, can I ask you a question?”

“Certainly. Priests are asked lots of questions. But don’t hold me to always having the right answer.” He grinned.

Pine smiled warmly. “I think a friend of mine is one of your parishioners.”

“Oh, yes?”

“Ironically, his name is Ben Priest.”

“Oh, Ben. Yes, yes he is. Though I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“He told me he plays in a church basketball league?”

Father Paul smiled. “Yes, it’s an informal thing. I actually started it about two years ago. As you can probably tell from my height, I play. But Ben, though he’s some years older than me, is an exceptional player. Small forward. We compete against other churches in the area. Nothing official, but it’s good sport and fellowship.”

“You say you haven’t seen him for a while?”

“No. In fact, we had a game last week, but he didn’t make it. I called him but didn’t get an answer. But he goes off quite often. He’ll be back.” He paused. “So, you’re friends with Ben?”

“Yes. And his brother and his family.”

The priest’s brow furrowed. “That’s funny. He never mentioned a brother.”

“Ed Priest. He lives in Maryland with his wife and kids.”

“Hmm. Well, come to think, Ben never really talked about himself very much. He just always seemed to be listening to everyone else.”

“Yeah, he’s like that.”

“How do you know him?”

“Through mutual friends. I haven’t known him all that long. But I was supposed to see him while I was here visiting. But he’s not answering my phone calls either.”

“Have you been by his house?”

“I have. And no one was there.”

“And he knew you were coming?”

“Yes. We’d made plans.”

Father Paul now looked worried. “I hope nothing has happened to him.”

“I’m sure he’s fine. Like you said, he just goes off sometimes.” She paused and added, “I wonder where, though?”

Father Paul sat down in the pew next to her. “You said you met Ben through friends. How well do you actually know him?”

“It’s funny. He’s always struck me as a person who shows very little of himself. Like you just intimated. What do you know of him?”

“Probably not much more than you do.”

“I don’t even know what he does for a living. He mentioned something once about politics, government, that sort of thing. I suppose lots of people around here do that.”

“They do, yes. Probably half my parishioners work in some capacity that’s connected to the federal government.”

Pine faked a smile. “I know this will sound silly.”

“What?”

“It always struck me that Ben might be some sort of, well, spy.”

Her grin broadened as though she thought this was ridiculous, though she hoped the priest would take the bait.

“If you want to know the truth, I thought the very same thing.”

Pine feigned surprise. “Really? Why?”

“A million little things, which on their own probably didn’t amount to much. But taken together, they just led me to believe that whatever he did was sort of, well, clandestine, for want of a better term.”

“I wish I could find him. Do you know any of his other friends?”

Father Paul thought for a few moments. “Well, there is one fellow. Simon Russell. He also plays in our league. Ben actually brought him on. We made an exception, since he’s not a member of the parish. From what I could tell, I think they worked together. Or at least they once did.”

“What does he do for a living?”

Father Paul smiled. “He seems to have the same bug that Ben does. He never reveals much about himself. But he can hit threes with the best of them.”

“Description?”

The priest looked surprised. “You sound like a cop.”

“No, but if I do run into him I want to make sure it’s the right guy.”

“Well, he’s a bit taller than me and very lean. Not much hair on top. He has a trim beard. He’s about Ben’s age, I would guess, or a bit older.”

“Do you have contact information for him?”

“As a matter of fact, I do. I went to his house for a drink once with Ben and some of the other team members. We won the league championship last year, quite a comeback victory, actually, and Simon, on the spur of the moment, invited us all to celebrate. I thought it was quite nice. I mean, Ben lives nearby but he’d never had us to his place.”

“Ben is very private.”

“Exceedingly so.”

Father Paul wrote down an address and gave it to Pine. As he escorted her out he said, “If you find Ben, tell him to give me a call. I want to know he’s okay.”

“I’ll do that.” Pine looked around at the church’s interior. “This is a beautiful space.”

“It is. But that’s just trappings. The real strength of any church, I hope, are its parishioners. Jesus was a poor man. His faith was his pot of gold. Are you Catholic?”

“No. My parents didn’t take us to church. And I guess I just never got into the habit of going now that I’m an adult.”

“Well, it’s never too late.”

She gave him a sad look. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you?”