Second Honeymoon

Chapter 101

A DOZEN OR more police cruisers doing sixty with sirens blaring have a funny way of unclogging traffic. Harris drove; Sarah and I held on. We covered the twenty blocks in a couple of minutes flat.

At first glance, the scene outside Saint Alexander’s was the epitome of irony. It looked like a wedding, of all things—or the end of one, at least. A gathering of well-wishers was milling about on the steps of the church as if at any second the bride and groom would come marching out through the doors, arm in arm.

“Jesus, we’ve got to clear everyone out of here,” I said as Harris skidded to a stop along the curb. We all knew what happened to the last building Cole had set her sights on.

The people outside were an easy fix: that was simple crowd control. It was the ones inside the church who were the real problem. The words of the dispatcher were still fresh in my head. Possible hostage situation.

I stepped out of Harris’s unmarked Explorer, nearly getting myself run over by another arriving patrol car. They were everywhere now, coming in droves.

Every cop converged on the sidewalk while Harris, Sarah, and I started up the steps of the church. I was about to shout to get the crowd’s attention when a young priest with close-cropped red hair and freckles stepped forward.

“Are you one of the FBI agents?” he asked me.

Strange first question. How did he know that?

“Yes. I’m Agent O’Hara.”

“Oh, good,” he said. “Thank God you’re here.”

“Were you inside?” I asked the priest.

“We all were, but she let us go,” he answered. He immediately corrected himself. “Almost all of us.”

“Who’s still inside?”

“Another priest,” he said. “Father Reese.”

“Anyone else?”

“No, that’s it. We were having choir practice when the woman in the wedding dress came storming in. I thought maybe it was some kind of joke at first. Then I saw the gun.”

“A handgun or something bigger?” asked Sarah.

“A handgun,” he said. “She was carrying something else, too. It looked like a big green soda bottle. But no label.”

Ten to one it wasn’t 7UP.

“What did she say?” Sarah asked.

“That everyone could leave, except for one person,” he turned to Sarah and said. “Father Reese insisted he be the one.”

“Was there anything else?”

He nodded. “Yes. A message.”

“For whom?” I asked.

“You,” he said. “And Agent Brubaker.” He turned to Sarah. “I assume that’s—”

“That’s me,” said Sarah.

“Oh, good,” he said. “You’re both here. She wants to talk to you—both of you.”