The Halo Effect

54

There was nothing left to hear. Or to say. For a moment, both of us just sat there with the words swirling above our heads. They even had their own sound. A soft rustle. No. That was a real sound. But what kind of sound?

“Thank you, Dr. Snow.”

I nodded. Not wanting to talk. Wanting to listen. I got up and walked to the window. The sound was farther away. I walked back to the couch, and as I did I passed by the glass cart and saw the label on the bottle of wine.

It was not wine you could buy in just any store. It was sacramental wine. Sold only to churches for use during mass. Sacramental wine?

And then I recognized the smell I’d noticed when I’d come in the door. Incense. The kind they burned in church. I’d been to mass often enough with Mitch to know it. I’d smelled it on Elias before. And I’d smelled it somewhere else.

I looked at Elias. He caught my eye. I looked away. Toward the door. There was an umbrella stand and in it a black umbrella with a familiar silver handle. It shone and the shine mocked me. I had missed all the clues. And now they were crowding in on me. Everywhere I looked was one more.

I kept walking. Now I was passing his desk, where there was a pile of envelopes addressed to him. But not here. Not here. The address was in St. Martin, N.A.

That was where I had seen those initials before. On Elias’s business card. An office in New York City. Another in St. Martin, N.A.

It was only a coincidence.

Noah had said there was a church in St. Martin that had ordered nun’s habits, but this was impossible. It was only a coincidence.

Suddenly a loud crash broke the silence. The sound of something solid smashing against wood. It came from beyond the living room. From somewhere deeper in the apartment.

Was it a coincidence?

Could Elias be the Healer? Could I have been so blind? And if he was the man who had been killing all those women, then he had to have taken Cleo. There had to be a connection. But what? Had he killed Cleo? No. I knew what I was doing. I had watched his face when he had talked about her. He was obsessed with her. He truly loved her. He had not killed her. But had he killed those other women in some sick ritual that was somehow connected to Cleo? I couldn’t figure it out, not yet, not right away, not while I was so afraid. But of course there was a connection. I’d thought there was all along.

And then I heard a sound again. A thud this time, soft, without much power. But loud enough for me to hear it. And for Elias to hear it. And for his eyes to narrow with anger.

As much as I wanted to go search the apartment, I knew that if I was right and there was someone-Cleo?-here, the only chance I had was to get myself out first. I needed to get to a phone. To call Noah. His name was large in my head now, shining, a solution. Just get out. Walk to the door. Do not look in the direction of the sound.

“I have to go, Elias.”

“Yes, you have to go.”

What had he read on my face? What was he thinking? Where was Cleo? I couldn’t focus on any of that yet. I had to get out first. Just get past him. And through the door.

I was halfway there, almost to the door, when I realized I had forgotten my bag. I had to act in a normal fashion as I went back for it, or he would know for sure that my suspicions had been raised, and if he was guilty, as I was now sure he was, he would never let me leave. And if I couldn’t leave, I couldn’t save Cleo. I needed to get out for Cleo. For Dulcie. The adrenaline was flooding my blood.

I turned back to the couch for my bag. But my eyes drifted toward the door next to the kitchen.

The picture of the blue-and-black iris was askew.

I heard the sound again. It was coming from behind that door. And this last impact sent the frame sliding off its hook, revealing a corner of wire mesh. The corner of a confessional screen.