By the time they left the hospital, it was after ten and the rain had stopped, the clouds breaking apart, blue sky visible. A thick, dank mist rolled upward from the earth as Valerie walked through puddles to Slade’s old Ford. Slade had insisted on driving to the hospital, and she’d been so hell-bent to get to the morgue she hadn’t cared a whit how she’d gotten there. Now, as she climbed into the beat-up truck, she was acutely aware of the memories it conjured. The smell of old leather, dirt and sweat, the wreckage of a marriage.

The end of a life.

She shivered at the stark, irreversible realization that she would never see Cammie again.

It was an impossible thought. Painful.

And now, after the viewing, a cold, hard fact.

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 13

It’s been so long.

And the promise I made myself years ago, the vow, is now broken. From the Moonwalk along the banks of the river, I watch the thick waters of the Mississippi roll past, cloudy and obscure. A freighter churns upriver. The air is warm and heavy with humidity, the sky somber, yet I slip a pair of sunglasses from my pocket and onto the bridge of my nose.

“Hello, Father,” a man says as he passes me quickly, catching sight of my clerical collar.

I smile.

Don’t answer.

He bustles away, and I turn from the river, its dank smell caressing my nostrils. With effort, I make my way over the steep levee, my right leg dragging ever so slightly, the old pain not quite gone and never, ever forgotten.

It’s a pain I can deal with.

And only in the leg.

I’m not winded, not even perspiring. I’ve kept myself fit. Honed.

Except for the right tibia.

Unfortunate, that.

A war wound.

I make my way into the park and keep moving, past a mime who tries silently to catch my attention. I refuse to glance his way, his sad white face of no interest to me. Instead, I stare across the park, past the statue of Andrew Jackson on his rearing horse to the spires of St. Louis Cathedral, rising upward, the cross atop the highest steeple seeming to pierce the underbelly of the dark clouds roiling overhead.

White and looming, the cathedral beckons.

And I, of course, resist.

For now.

Inside the truck, Val kicked against the tool belt near her feet and waited for Slade to slide behind the wheel.

“You okay?” he asked, closing the door.

“What do you think?”

“Okay, dumb question.”

“You got that right.” She stared out the windshield as he switched on the ignition and hit the wipers. With a squeak, they batted away the rainwater that had collected on the glass during the short storm.

“What about you?” she asked.