“Get your own house.”

The hall was full of cobwebs and droppings from assorted rodents. The wallpaper had faded to gray. A fat, hard-backed beetle crawled lazily across it. “When does Vincent Price come down the steps?”

Ed glanced around and saw a castle in the rough. “It just needs a good cleaning.”

“And an exterminator. Are there rats?”

“In the basement, I imagine,” Ed said carelessly, and walked into what had once been a charming parlor.

It was narrow and high ceilinged, with the openings of what would be two five-foot windows boarded up. The stone of the fireplace was intact, but someone had ripped out the mantel. The floors, under a coating of dust and grime, might very well have been oak.

“Ed, this place-”

“Terrific potential. The kitchen has a brick oven built into the wall. You know what bread tastes like out of a brick oven?”

“You don’t buy a house to bake bread.” Ben walked back into the hall, watching the floor for any signs of life. “Christ, there’s a hole in the ceiling back here. It’s fucking four feet wide.”

“That’s first on my list,” Ed commented as he came to join him. They stood for a moment in silence, looking up at the hole.

“You’re not talking about a list. You’re talking about a lifetime commitment.” As they watched, a spider the size of a man’s thumb dropped down and landed at their feet with a noticeable plop. More than a little disgusted, Ben kicked it aside. “You can’t be serious about this place.”

“Sure I am. A man gets to a point he wants to settle down.”

“You didn’t take me seriously about getting married too?”

“A place of his own,” Ed continued placidly. “A workroom, maybe a little garden. There’s a good spot for herbs in the back. A place like this would give me a goal. I figure on fixing up one room at a time.”

“It’ll take you fifty years.”

“I got nothing better to do. Want to see upstairs?”

Ben took another look at the hole. “No, I want to live. How much?” he asked flatly.

“Seventy-five.”

“Seventy-five? Seventy-five thousand? Dollars?”

“Real estates at a premium in Georgetown.”

“Georgetown? Christ on a raft, this isn’t Georgetown.” Something bigger than the spider skuddled in the corner. He reached for his weapon. “The first rat I see is going to eat this.”

“Just a field mouse.” Ed put a soothing hand on Ben’s shoulder. “Rats stick to the basement or the attic.”

“What, do they have a lease?” But he left his weapon secured. “Listen, Ed, the realtors and developers push back the borders so they can call this Georgetown and take idiots like you for seventy-five-thousand dollars.”

“I only offered seventy.”

“Oh, that’s different. You only offered seventy.” He started to pace but ran into a magnificent cobweb. Swearing, he fought himself free. “Ed, it’s those sunflower seeds. You need red meat.”

“You feel responsible.” Ed smiled, terrifically pleased before he strolled into the kitchen.

“No, I don’t.” Ben jammed his hands into his pockets. “Yes, dammit, I do.”

“That’s the yard. My yard.” Ed pointed out when Ben trailed after him. “I figure I can grow basil, some rosemary, maybe some lavender in that little spot right outside the window.”

Ben saw a patch of knee-high grass nearly wide enough for two swipes of a lawn mower. “You’ve been working too hard. This case is making us all loony. Ed, listen carefully to these words, see if they ring a bell. Dry rot. Termites. Vermin.”

“I’m going to be thirty-six.”

“So?”

“I’ve never owned a house.”

“Hell, everybody’s going to be thirty-six once, but not everybody has to own a house.”

“Shit, I never even lived in one. We always had apartments.”

The kitchen smelled of decades of grease, but this time Ben said nothing.

“There’s an attic. The kind you see in shows where there’re trunks and old furniture and funny hats. I like that. I’m going to do the kitchen first.”

Ben stared out at the pitiful clump of grass. “Steam,” he said. “That’s the best way to strip this old wallpaper.”

“Steam?”

“Yeah.” Ben pulled out a cigarette and grinned. “You’re going to need plenty of it. I dated this woman who worked at a paint store. Marli… yeah, I think her name was Marli. She’d probably still give me a discount.”

“Date anyone who works at a lumberyard?”

“I’ll check. Come on, I have to make a call.”

They stopped at a phone booth a few miles away. Ben found a quarter and dialed Tess’s office number while Ed went into the 7-Eleven.

“Dr. Court’s office.”

“Detective Paris.”

“Yes, Detective, just a moment.”

There was a click, then silence, then another click. “Ben?”

“How are you, Doc?”

“I’m fine.” As she spoke she was clearing her desk. “Just on my way out to the clinic.”

“What time do you finish there?”

“Usually five-thirty, maybe six.”

He glanced at his watch and shifted the rest of his schedule. “Fine. I’ll pick you up.”

“But you don’t need-”

“Yes, I do. Who’s on you today?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Who’s watching you at the office?” Ben explained, and tried to find a corner in the phone booth where the wind wouldn’t reach.

“Oh, Sergeant Billings.”

“Good.” He cupped his hands around a match as he lit a cigarette, and wished like hell he’d remembered his gloves. “Have Billings drive you to the clinic.”

There was silence. In it he heard her temper, and was tempted to smile at it. “I don’t see any reason why I can’t drive myself to the clinic as I’ve done every week for the last several years.”

“I’m not asking you to see a reason, Tess. I’ve got plenty of them. See you at six.”

He hung up, knowing she’d hold the phone, and her temper, until she could replace it quietly. She wouldn’t want to do something as childish, and typical, as slamming it down.

He was right, tess counted backward from five, slowly, then quietly replaced the receiver. She’d hardly set it down when Kate buzzed her again.

“Yes?” It took effort not to bite the word off.

“You have another call on line two. He won’t give his name.”

“All right, I-” The nerves in her stomach tangled, and she knew. “I’ll take it, Kate.”

She stared at the slowly blinking button. Her finger was steady when she pushed it. “This is Dr. Court.”

“I saw you in church. You came.”

“Yes.” The instructions she’d been given raced through her head. Try to keep him on the line. Keep him calm and on the line. “I was hoping to see you there so we could talk again. How are you feeling?”

“You were there. Now you understand.”

“What do I understand?”

“You understand the greatness.” His voice was calm. A decision reached, faith confirmed. “The sacrifices we’re asked to make are so small compared to the rewards of obedience. I’m glad you were there, so that you understand. I had doubts.”

“What kind of doubts?”

“About the mission.” His voice dropped, as if even whispering of doubt was a sin. “But not anymore.”

Tess took a chance. “Where is Laura?”

“Laura.” She could hear the tears. “Laura waits in purgatory, suffering, until I atone for her sins. She’s my responsibility. She has no one but me and the Blessed Mother to intercede for her.”

So Laura was dead. Now she could be sure of it. “You must have loved her very much.”

“She was the best part of me. We were joined before birth. Now I must make restitution for her before we can be joined after death. You understand now. You came. Your soul will join the others. I will absolve you in the name of the Lord.”

“You can’t kill again. Laura wouldn’t want you to kill again.”

There was silence… three, four, five seconds. “I thought you understood.”

Tess recognized the tone, the accusation, the betrayal. She was going to lose him. “I think I do. If I don’t, I need you to explain things to me. I want to understand, I want you to help me understand. That’s why I want to come talk to you.”