Total pages in book: 71
Estimated words: 73339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73339 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
“I’m fine.”
I didn’t believe her, but I’d called for a reason. Morgan was done with me—just a bunch of badgering about things I’d already told him—and I had to prepare Zee. “I’m going to send someone up to the apartment to get you. The detective will be ready for you in about an hour, and our attorneys need to prep you.
“I… Okay.”
“Lydia will answer the door and come get you. Are you still in my bedroom?”
“Oh. No, I’m not.”
“In the home gym, then?”
“Uh…no. Why would you think that?”
“You’re out of breath. I thought you might be working out.”
“No. I’m… I’m not at your place.”
Ice gripped the back of my neck. “Where are you, then?”
“At a church. St. Andrew’s.”
“Fuck,” I said under my breath. “Why are you there?”
“I wanted… I don’t know what I wanted.”
“Are you okay? Did anyone…” What was I going to say? Did anyone hurt you? Why would she intentionally go to Father Jim’s parish?
“I’m okay. I’m in the rose garden.”
“Listen to me, Zee,” I said. “Leave the rose garden. Go back to the street and find a café. Do it now while we’re on the phone together.”
“Yes. All right.”
Rustling met my ears. She was leaving the rose garden. It would take her a few minutes to get off church property and back to the street. There was a Starbucks nearby. She could go there.
“Do you see the Starbucks?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Go there. Have a seat inside. The driver will be there as soon as possible. Stay on the phone.”
“I am.”
I left the office quickly, yelled at Terrence to make sure Wayne was waiting for me downstairs, and pounded on the elevator button until the doors split before me.
“Reid?”
“I’m here, Zee. Just stay at the Starbucks.”
“Okay.” Her voice didn’t tremble as much now. Good.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, I ran out through the lobby to the waiting car. “The Starbucks by St. Andrew’s,” I said to Wayne. “Hurry.”
Hurry. Yeah, in Manhattan traffic.
“You still okay?” I asked Zee.
“Yeah.”
“Get yourself some tea or something.”
“I’m fine. I don’t want anything. Especially not tea.”
“Oh?”
“The priest. He offered me tea.”
“The priest?” Damn. Had she actually talked to Father Jim?
“Yes, he was nice, but he scared me.”
“Father Jim?” I demanded.
“No. The other one.”
There was another one? How would I know? I wasn’t exactly a churchgoer, and I’d never set foot in St. Andrew’s again, now that I knew what Father Jim was all about. Sitting through my father’s memorial and listening to the priest sing his praises had been about all I could handle.
“You’re safe now,” I said, trying to sound soothing when my nerves were a fucking mess.
“I know.” Her voice was monotone.
Hurry, Wayne. For God’s sake, hurry!
Twenty minutes to go a couple blocks. Fucking crazy shit. I should have walked. In fact—
“Stop,” I said. “I’m getting out. Meet me at the Starbucks.”
Wayne nodded as I wrenched open the car door and sprinted the last block to Starbucks.
Zee sat at a table outside, her phone still glued to her ear, her left hand clenched in a fist. She gasped when she saw me.
“Are you all right?” I panted.
“Yeah. I am now. When you stopped talking, I…”
“Never mind. I’m here now. Wayne will be here in a few minutes and we’ll drive back to the office.” I sat down next to her. “Zee, why did you go to St. Andrew’s?”
She stuffed her phone into her purse. “I’m not really sure.”
“Tell me.”
“I was thinking about when I was younger. You know, before…everything.”
I lifted my eyebrows.
“There was a pastor at home I used to talk to sometimes. He always made me feel better.”
A pastor? Did she know there were dozens of other churches around? Churches that weren’t St. Andrew’s? “Why that church?”
“It was the only one I knew.”
“Zee…”
“Okay.” She sighed. “I wanted to be strong. I thought if I could go there, it would be like taking my life back.”
I shook my head. “Oh, sweetheart.”
“Stupid, I know. But you have to understand. I thought I’d put all that to bed, but now it’s all come back to me in vivid color.”
Because of me.
“When you’ve been through something so terrible,” she went on, “something you think you might never get over, sometimes you’re willing to do just about anything to merely survive.”
“I do understand. And I promise you. You will take your life back, Zee, but St. Andrew’s isn’t the place to do it. Telling your story is. Owning it. Going public so we can take Father Jim and any other tyrants still out there down. So we can show the world who my father truly was.”
“And talking to the detective is the first step.”
“Yeah. It is.” I cupped her cheek and looked up as the black car weaved through traffic to stop in front of the Starbucks. “Here’s Wayne now. Let’s go.”
She stood, and I took her left hand. It was still clenched into a fist.