‘You’re going to kill him?’ he said.

Martin gave a nasty laugh. ‘Well, maybe. I guess. Or just rough him up real good.’

‘Yeah,’ Judah said. ‘Break his legs or something.’

‘Point is he needs to feel it so bad everybody else here feels it along with him.’

‘Right,’ said Judah.

They left as soon as the two of them had finished eating, and Brendan thought he saw a few relieved looks coming their way. He wondered why, and squirmed beneath the focus.

‘Well?’ Brendan said once they were back in the car. He was sitting alone in the front once more, looking in the rear-view mirror. ‘Kelly normally hangs out in his church toward dark. They run a few of those programs weeknights for alcos and that. He’s normally in there at six.’

‘That’s two hours from now,’ Judah said.

‘I don’t know where he lives.’

‘Ask somebody. You country folk are all in each other’s pockets, aren’t you?’

‘You’re in a hurry, all of a sudden?’

Judah sighed. Sat back. Punched the ceiling of his car, hard. Metallic thud.

Martin said, ‘You’re calling the shots, Brendan. This is your mess. You know what’s happening if we don’t manage to clean this up.’

They waited, Judah smoking, seated in the car on MacMillan Road. People looked at the car as they walked by. Two hours later Brendan pulled out and drove down to the Anglican church. There were lights on inside, the stained-glass windows illuminated. Brendan parked on the street and looked up. Bloody great big thing. Guess the blokes who built it were trying to honour God, or something. The stars above were cloaked in cloud. A cool breeze. Brendan walked to keep up with the other two.

At the front door, Judah struggled with the handle and then pounded on the door so hard Brendan was afraid the glass would smash. Soon, though, the minister’s face appeared, staring at his guests banded together in the darkness. Brendan tried smiling, waved a hand.

‘Reverend Kelly,’ he said.

The minister did not open the door, but instead shouted through the glass, ‘What do you want, Cahill?’

‘Just want a word.’

‘About Vernon, I suppose?’

He didn’t appear to be wearing his minister’s cloak, from what Brendan could tell, but even through the glass there was an air of certainty about him that made Brendan doubt his own intention––he’d barely been sure of it to begin with. The way Kelly gazed down at the three of them, there on the church steps.

Martin spoke up. ‘We don’t want any harm to come to you, old man, but we were in the police station earlier—’

‘So you’re the ones who did that to Sharon.’

Martin’s smile didn’t falter. He said, ‘Yeah. We did that.’

‘You can leave my church now,’ Reverend Kelly said, and started walking away. Martin brought out his pistol and tapped it on the glass. Reverend Kelly stopped and turned around.

‘Now I don’t need—’ Martin began in that condescending tone of his, but he was cut short by a rifle blast from within the church. The glass he stood before shattered and Martin fell back on the steps. Brendan saw the raised rifle in the minister’s hands, saw him drawing back the bolt in a practised move. Judah was now down on one knee, going for his own weapon. Brendan ducked and headed to Martin, who was gurgling. He pulled the wounded man to him as Judah started firing.