After a few minutes, a steel door on the opposite side of the glass swung open. Father O’Reilly walked in and sat down.

In an instant, Coletti was transported back ten years. He saw the cathedral, remembered the horror, and regretted the outcome.

The priest wasn’t affected that way. He simply picked up the phone and stared through the glass with a blank expression. Smithson watched them both, trying and failing to get a bead on what they were thinking.

O’Reilly pointed to the phone on Coletti’s side of the glass. Coletti picked it up and held it between himself and Smithson so both of them could hear.

“I’m not sure if you remember me,” Coletti said quietly. “I’m Detective Coletti.”

“I know who you are,” the priest said. “But I don’t remember her.”

“My name’s Lieutenant Smithson. I’m helping Detective Coletti look into your case.”

O’Reilly studied Smithson’s face for a few moments. Then he turned to Coletti. “What’s there to look into?” he asked.

Coletti paused before he answered. He didn’t want O’Reilly to think he was crazy, and he didn’t want to relive it all in front of Smithson. Sensing his apprehension, she reached up and gently rubbed his back. He glanced at her with a hint of gratitude. Then he looked at the priest through the glass.

“I’ve had dreams about that day at the cathedral,” he told Father O’Reilly. “In every one of them, I’m you, and there’s a guy in the confessional booth who tells me he’s hurt people. It kinda makes me nervous when he says that, but it’s my job to take confession, so I listen to him. But then he starts to get kinda loud and the sexton hears him. Does that dream sound familiar to you?”

The blood drained from the priest’s face, and as he sat there, his soul looked into a past he’d relived too many times. “How could you know that?” he asked in an anxious whisper.

“I don’t know,” Coletti said. “I just do. It’s almost like I’ve lived the whole thing through your eyes.”

“Well,” O’Reilly said, “if you’ve lived the whole thing, then you know what happens next.”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

The priest looked from Coletti to Smithson. Then he closed his eyes tightly. Neither of them could tell if he was trying to recall the images from that day or erase them. It wasn’t clear which option he’d chosen until he spoke.