“The Buddha’s given name was Guatama,” the old woman said. “When Guatama was seeking supreme enlightenment, he sat under the Bo tree, and a demon named Mara came there to tempt him. First, he told Guatama that his family had lost its throne. When that didn’t work, Mara sent rain, rocks, ashes, and darkness, scaring away all the gods who had gathered to honor Guatama. Finally, Mara sent his three daughters, Thirst, Desire, and Delight, to seduce him. And even after Guatama achieved supreme enlightenment and became the Buddha, Mara tried to convince him not to preach the truth to the people.”

The old woman sat back for a few moments, contemplating the question that no one wanted to ask.

“Wherever there are angels,” she said gravely, “there are demons. No matter who you are, if you’re looking for light, those demons will find you. They’ll use lies, fear, pain, even desire. If none of those things work, they’ll use death. I don’t know what happened at that church, but I know that Kannitha and Chavy were named for angels. That’s why it never surprised me when I saw the man in black following them. Darkness always follows light.”

Coletti’s ears perked up. “Did the man you saw following them wear a dark suit and a wide-brimmed hat?”

The woman nodded.

“Did you see that man today?” he asked anxiously.

She nodded again. “I saw him a few minutes before they died. He was heading toward Broad Street. In my heart, I knew he was following them to the church, and I knew I’d never see them again.”

Chapter 8

When the press conference was over, Lynch asked Smithson to drive Mann’s car back to police headquarters. She did it, although she was tired, and not just from the strain of that morning’s shooting or the mental energy she’d expended on the case. She was tired from carrying the heavy weight of being a female cop.

When a woman froze in the line of fire, as she’d done on the commuter train platform that morning, her male counterparts clucked their tongues as if some feminine problem had contributed to the mistake. When a woman took an interest in a colleague, as Smithson did with Coletti, they were regarded as whores, destined to be passed around. In the male-dominated world of police work, being a woman sometimes meant being alone, even in the midst of one’s peers.

In truth, it was that feeling of isolation that caused her to stand up for Mann that morning. He was the only black detective in homicide, which meant that they were both lonely figures in a world where they didn’t quite fit.