After five years of being a practicing Jew, Decker felt strange entering a church. As he walked up the steps to St. Thomas’s, he wondered if he’d feel any emotional tug when he passed the chapel. Probably not. Much to Ida Decker’s consternation, he hadn’t ever been much of a churchgoer as a youngster.

He walked up the stairs, gave the double wooden doors a tug, and found them locked. He knocked, though he suspected it was a useless gesture. The doors were so thick and the building was so big, in order to be heard someone would have to be near by happenstance.

No response, of course.

He thought about trying the side doors when he saw the white button by the side of the entry. Now there’s a novel thought, Deck. A doorbell. He depressed the button and a harsh buzz screamed out. Waited a minute, pushed the bell again. Several minutes later, he finally heard footsteps. The door unlocked, a pair of eyes peeking through a crack.

“Yes?”

Decker took out ID. “Lieutenant Peter Decker. I’m here to see Father Abram Sparks. Is he in?”

The eyes moved frantically. “Can you come around to the rectory?”

“Where?”

“The side area. You’ll see a door there. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The door closed. Decker climbed down the stairs and walked around to the side. He followed a well-lit, stepping-stone pathway that hugged a wall; behind it looked to be a courtyard. About five hundred yards down was a two-story stucco building. The door was open when he got there.

The eyes belonged to a kid…twenty if that. His chin and forehead were still dotted with acne. He wore jeans and T-shirt and blocked the doorway. “Father Sparks is…his door is closed.”

“Why don’t you knock on it?”

A voice in the background asked who it was.

“Police,” Decker shouted out.

Sparks came out, draped his arm around his young charge. “Thank you, Jim, you can go back upstairs now.”

“I didn’t want to disturb—”

“It’s fine, Jim.”

“Are you sure, Father?”

“Positive.” Bram smiled. Weary. Edgy. “Bye.”

Jim stared at Decker, then turned and walked up a staircase.

“Come in,” Sparks said.

The place was halfway between an office suite and a residence. A living room at one side, a receptionist’s office on the other. Once it might have been a dining room.

“This way.”

Sparks led Decker past a small kitchen into a den area. A few beat-up sofas populated the room. He unlocked a pair of french doors and took Decker outside into a courtyard illuminated by low-voltage spots. It was thickly planted with flowers and foliage. A three-tiered fountain sat in the center of the landscape, spilling out glittery drops in the white light. Cool out here. Peaceful, too. They walked down a colonnade into a separate one-story bungalow marked CHANCELLERY.

Sparks opened the door.