The Soul Catcher Read online

  “What?”

  “The boy across the aisle that you keep looking at. Justin.”

  Even in the dim light, Kathleen could see Alice blush, the freckles even more pronounced.

  “We’re just friends,” Alice said. “You know Father doesn’t allow anything more. We must keep ourselves chaste and our bodies pure.” It sounded like she was reading the words off a pamphlet.

  “I think he’s very nice.” She ignored Alice’s benediction and nodded her chin in his direction. “And quite handsome.”

  Another blush, but this time it came with a smile. “I think he’s upset with me, but I don’t know why.”

  “Did you ask him?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what did he say?”

  “He told me he was just tired. That everything was fine.”

  Kathleen leaned closer to the girl. “It’s been my experience with men that they’re just as confused as we are. If he says he’s just tired, he may just be tired.”

  “Really? You think so?”

  “Sure.”

  It seemed to bring the girl relief and she relaxed in her seat. “I was worried, because I really don’t have very much experience with boys.”

  “Really? A pretty girl like you?”

  “My parents were always very strict. They never even let me date.”

  “Where are your parents now?”

  Alice got quiet, and Kathleen wished she hadn’t pried.

  “They died in a car accident two years ago. A month later, I went to one of Father’s rallies. It was like he could see how lost and alone I was. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t found the church. I have no other family.” She was quiet for a while, then she looked at Kathleen. “Why did you join the church?”

  Good question, she wanted to tell the girl. For the last twenty-four hours she had been asking herself that very same thing. She needed to remember all the good things she had found since joining, like self-respect and dignity. Things the alcohol had stolen from her. Yet, after tonight’s humiliation…It was hard to think of anything except sleep.

  “I’m sorry,” Alice said. “You probably don’t want to talk about stuff like that after tonight’s meeting.”

  “No, it’s okay.” She wanted to tell the girl that she hadn’t betrayed the church. That she hadn’t told Maggie anything and she wasn’t sure why Stephen thought she had. But she knew it wouldn’t matter to Alice or probably any of the other members. Most of them were simply relieved they hadn’t been the ones called up. “I suppose I was lost in a different sort of way,” Kathleen finally said.

  “You don’t have any family, either, huh?”

  “I have a daughter. A beautiful, smart, young woman.”

  “I bet she looks a lot like you. You’re very pretty.”

  “Well, thank you, Alice. It’s been a long time since someone has said that to me.” Tonight she certainly didn’t feel pretty.

  “So why aren’t you with your daughter?”

  “We have a…well, a strained relationship. She’s been angry with me for more years than I can remember.”

  “Angry? Why would she be angry with you?”

  “Lots of reasons. But mostly because I’m not her father.”

  “What?”

  She saw the confusion on Alice’s face and smiled. “It’s a long, boring story, I’m afraid.” She patted Alice’s hand. “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”

  She rested her own head against the seat again, but now her mind was filled with thoughts about Maggie and thoughts about Thomas. Dear God, she hadn’t thought of him in years. At least, not without getting angry all over again. Maggie still idolized the man. And Kathleen had promised herself years ago to never tell Maggie the truth about her father. So why had she? Why now after all these years?

  She remembered the disbelief, the hurt on Maggie’s face. The surprise when she slapped her. Those sad, brown eyes—they were the eyes of a twelve-year-old little girl who still loved her daddy so much. How in the world could she have tried to destroy that? And why would she want to? What was wrong with her? No wonder her own daughter didn’t love her. Maybe she didn’t deserve her love. But Thomas didn’t, either.

  Kathleen still remembered getting the phone call from the fire station in the middle of the night. The dispatcher had been calling in every available man to answer the three-alarm blaze. She had lied to the dispatcher and told her Thomas was upstairs, asleep. And then she had to call him. She hated that she knew exactly where he was. And she hated even more that she had to call him at that woman’s apartment. But she had to. She had no choice but to call and give him the message, so that no one else would know the lie.

  She had always imagined she had interrupted their lovemaking, their passionate sex-fests, which Thomas had told her she wasn’t capable of. Maybe that was why she had spent the last twenty years trying to prove him wrong, sleeping with any man who wanted her, and unlike Thomas, there had been plenty of men who had wanted her. But back then, that particular day, she had vowed to herself that she wouldn’t take it anymore, that she would take Maggie and leave. And then the son of a bitch had to go and get himself killed. Not only killed but made into a hero.

  There had been many times she’d wondered what Maggie would think of her saintly, heroic father if she knew the truth. So many times in a drunken fit, she had come close to telling her. But somehow she had always managed to stop herself.

  After Thomas’s death, she had moved as far away as she could. It was part of the pact she had made with the devil, with the whore who claimed she was carrying Thomas’s child. In order to keep Maggie from knowing the truth about her father, she had to also keep Maggie from knowing her half brother. At the time it seemed a small price to pay. It had seemed like the right thing to do. But now she wasn’t sure.

  The other day Maggie had been so angry, so unwilling to accept the truth about her father. Would she also not want to accept that she had a brother, a half brother who had been kept from her for all these years? Would she be too angry to believe?

  The woman had even named the boy Patrick, after Thomas’s brother who had been killed in Vietnam. Kathleen wondered if he looked like Thomas. He’d be a young man now—twenty-one years old, the same age Thomas was when they first met.

  Kathleen felt a tap on her shoulder and looked up to find Reverend Everett standing in the aisle. He smiled at Alice, and then to Kathleen he said, “There are some things we need to discuss, Kathleen. Perhaps we can discuss them in my compartment.”

  She crawled over Alice and followed him to the small space at the back of the bus. Her knees were unsteady and her stomach tense. He hadn’t said a word to her since her punishment ceremony. Was he still upset?

  The compartment was small, with a bed that filled most of the area and a tiny bathroom in the corner next to a desk. She could hear the roar of the engines. He closed the door behind them, and Kathleen heard him turn the lock.

  “I know how painful that was for you tonight, Kathleen,” he said in such a soft, gentle voice that she immediately felt relieved. “I would have stepped in, but it would have looked as though I was playing favorites, and that would have only made it harder on you. I do care about you and that’s why I’m willing to do this special favor for you.”

  He motioned for her to sit on the bed and make herself comfortable. Despite his soft and gentle voice, she saw a coldness in his eyes that she didn’t recognize, that unnerved her. She sat, anyway, not wanting to make him upset, especially if he was willing to do some special favor for her. He had been so kind in the past.

  “I’m very sorry,” she offered, not knowing what explanation he hoped to receive. She knew he didn’t like it when members made excuses, and no matter what she told him, he might misconstrue it as an excuse.

  “Well, that’s in the past. With my special graces, I’m sure you’ll not betray us like that again.”

  “Of course,” she said.

  Then with that same c
old look in his eyes, he began unzipping his pants while he said to her, “I’m doing this for your own good, Kathleen. Now you must take off all your clothes.”

  CHAPTER 69

  Gwen found Maggie down in her office, curled in the overstuffed chair, her legs thrown over an arm, a stack of files resting on her chest, her eyes closed. Without saying a word, she let go of Harvey’s leash and gave him a pat on the hind end, telling him it was okay to go to his master. He didn’t hesitate and didn’t ask for permission to put his huge paws up on the chair to reach Maggie’s face and begin licking.

  “Hey, you!” Maggie grabbed the dog’s head and hugged him. He jumped back when the file folders opened and the contents started sliding down on top of him. “It’s okay, big guy,” Maggie reassured him, but she was already out of her comfortable position and on her feet by the time Gwen came over to help pick up crime scene photos and lab reports.

  “Thanks for bringing him,” Maggie said. She stopped and waited until Gwen met her eyes. “And thanks for coming.”

  “Actually I was glad you called.” The truth was Gwen had been surprised, not by the call but by the request. Harvey may have started out as a good excuse, but Gwen had heard the vulnerability in Maggie’s voice immediately, long before her friend quietly told her, “I need you here, Gwen. Can you please come?”

  Gwen hadn’t hesitated. She had left linguine in a colander in the sink, a pot of homemade Alfredo sauce probably now congealing on a cold stove. She was out the door and in her car, heading for Quantico by the time Maggie finished giving her what scant details were available. “So what’s the plan?” she asked. “Or do you even know?”

  “You mean since I don’t get to participate?”

  Gwen studied her friend’s eyes. There was no anger. Good. “You know it’s best that you don’t. You do know that, right?”

  “Sure.” But Maggie was watching Harvey investigate the corners of her office, pretending to be distracted by his curiosity. “Cunningham says the government has an informant. Someone who just recently came forward. He works in Senator Brier’s office and he’s also a member of Everett’s church. His name’s Stephen Caldwell.”

  Gwen helped herself to a Diet Pepsi from the minifridge in the corner of Maggie’s office. She looked up at Maggie. “No Scotch?” Maggie smiled at her and held out her hand, so Gwen grabbed another Pepsi. “This informant,” she said, “how do we know he’s not double-crossing us, too? How do we know that he can be trusted?”

  “I’m not convinced that he can be. For one thing, it may have been Caldwell who used his high-level security clearance to gain access to those retired weapons, the ones found at the cabin. But Cunningham tells me it was Caldwell who arranged my secret meeting with Eve.” She saw Gwen’s question before she asked. “Eve is an ex-member. I talked to her when you and Tully were in Boston.”

  “Ah, yes. Boston.” Gwen felt uncomfortable at the mere mention of the trip, but Maggie didn’t seem to notice. As far as Gwen knew, Maggie hadn’t even heard about Eric Pratt’s attempt on her life. No sense in bringing it up now. “If Caldwell has been stealing weapons and possibly leaking classified information to Everett, why is he suddenly willing to help the government?”

  “Evidently, he’s grown attached to Senator Brier and his family.” Maggie wrestled a tennis shoe away from Harvey. “Ginny’s murder shook up Caldwell’s loyalties. He claims he’s convinced Everett that they need to proceed to Cleveland, that Everett doesn’t know about the arrest warrants, only about the negative media attention. Caldwell claims we can safely arrest Everett and Brandon in Cleveland at the prayer rally, in public with little resistance and no threat of Everett being able to stage a standoff. That Everett won’t be expecting such a public arrest and will be taken completely by surprise.”

  “Wait a minute,” Gwen interrupted. “If Everett didn’t know about the warrants, then what about the dead bodies the FBI’s Hostage Rescue Team found?”

  “Cunningham said the unit announced themselves. Too many booby traps around the compound to sneak in. They think those left behind got scared, did the one thing they were prepared to do when the FBI came knocking at their door.”

  “Jesus! Are we sure they weren’t in contact with Everett?”

  “That we don’t know for sure. But there wasn’t a whole lot of time. It happened quickly.”

  “But what about Caldwell?”

  “He was informed about the arrest warrants. He wasn’t tipped off about the raid. It was meant to be a surprise. A surprise so no one would get hurt.”

  At this, Maggie avoided Gwen’s eyes again. She noticed Harvey scooting under her desk and reached down, rescuing the tennis shoe’s mate. She set the pair on the bookcase, out of his reach. The big dog sat and watched as if waiting for compensation. Gwen watched, too, quietly waiting for Maggie to continue. She knew the distraction was intentional. Maggie was doing an excellent job of giving her all the difficult details while sidestepping the subject of her mother. Even Gwen remembered the countless times Maggie had mentioned her mother’s new friends, Emily and Stephen. This Stephen Caldwell had to be the same Stephen.

  “And Caldwell’s conflicted loyalties,” Gwen finally said, “how do they affect your mother and her safety?”

  “That I don’t know. As far as we know, Caldwell is still with Everett. And so is my mother.” She sat back down in the chair and Harvey went to her, laying his head in her lap as if this was an expected routine. Maggie absently petted him while leaning her head back into the soft cushion. “I tried to talk to her about Everett. We ended up…it was pretty awful.”

  Gwen knew to be quiet. Maggie had shared very little about her childhood, and what Gwen knew of Maggie and her mother’s relationship came from hints, personal observations over the years and a few rare and accidental admissions from Maggie. She knew about the alcohol abuse and learned about the suicide attempts only after the fact, even though there had been several attempts within the time since Gwen and Maggie had become friends. But Maggie had kept her mother and their relationship off-limits, and whether it was right or wrong, Gwen had allowed it, hoping that one day Maggie would decide on her own to share that obvious struggle. Even tonight and under the present circumstances, Gwen expected little insight, little sharing. She leaned against the corner of Maggie’s desk and waited, just in case.

  “She always does and says such hurtful things,” Maggie said quietly without moving her head from the back of the cushion, avoiding Gwen’s eyes. “Not just to me but to herself. It’s like she’s been spending a lifetime trying to punish me.”

  “Why in the world would she want to punish you, Maggie?”

  “For loving my father more than I love her.”

  “Maybe it’s not you she’s trying to punish.”

  Maggie looked up at her with watery eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Could be she’s not trying to punish you at all. Did it ever occur to you that all these years she may have been trying to punish herself?”

  CHAPTER 70

  THURSDAY

  November 28

  Thanksgiving Day

  Cleveland, Ohio

  Kathleen looked out over Lake Erie and for the first time in years found herself homesick for Green Bay, Wisconsin. An unseasonably warm breeze ruffled her hair. She wished she could forget everything and leave it all behind her like one more black mark in her past. She wished she could take off her shoes, run down to the beach and spend the rest of the day, the rest of the week, the rest of her life walking with no destination, no intention other than to feel the sand between her toes.

  “Cassie will begin to lead the prayer rally,” Reverend Everett said from behind her.

  She looked over her shoulder without moving from her place in front of the open patio door. Reverend Everett had checked into a ritzy hotel in order to shower, shave and have access to a telephone to finalize their arrangements. Earlier, when she used the bathroom, Kathleen had been amazed at the wonderful luxuries: perfumed
soaps, a shoe-shine kit, a real razor with a real blade instead of the disposable kind, a shower cap and even a jar filled with Q-Tips.

  Now, while Stephen and Emily took notes and concentrated on everything Reverend Everett was telling the three of them, Kathleen stood quietly, enjoying the sunshine and the breeze.

  She felt like she needed to learn how to breathe again after last night’s humiliating ritual and then the cramped bus ride. She hoped the fresh air and sunlight would help wipe away the feel of Everett’s hot breath, the sounds of his grunts and groans while he thrust himself into her over and over again. When he was finished, he had pointed to her clothes, instructing her to get dressed with a coldness in his voice that she had never heard before. He had told her she needed this cleansing ritual in order for him to be able to trust her again.

  Without a word, she had slipped her clothes on over her sticky flesh, the smell of his aftershave so pungent she wanted to gag. And as she left his compartment to return to her seat, she couldn’t help thinking he had also cleansed her of every last remaining bit of her self-respect.

  “The FBI will most likely be surrounding the park,” Stephen said. “Father, you can’t possibly think of showing up at the prayer rally.”

  “What time will the cargo plane be ready?”

  “It’s scheduled for a seven o’clock takeoff. We must be there early to board.”

  “How can we be certain the FBI won’t be waiting at the airport?”

  “Because I told them you would be at the rally. That you wouldn’t expect an arrest in such a public arena. Even if they do suspect something, they might be waiting at the international airport. However, they won’t even think to check a government relief-aid cargo jet leaving from Cuyahoga County Airport.”

  Reverend Everett rewarded Stephen with a smile. “Very good. You’re a good man, Stephen. You will be justly rewarded when we get to South America. I promise you that.”