BooksBarbecue
Back We Were Killers Once
Chapters (65)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. Dedication
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. Twelve
  16. Thirteen
  17. Fourteen
  18. Fifteen
  19. Sixteen
  20. Seventeen
  21. Eighteen
  22. Nineteen
  23. Twenty
  24. Twenty–one
  25. Twenty–two
  26. Twenty–three
  27. Twenty–four
  28. Twenty–five
  29. Twenty–six
  30. Twenty–seven
  31. Twenty–eight
  32. Twenty–nine
  33. Thirty
  34. Thirty–one
  35. Thirty–two
  36. Thirty–three
  37. Thirty–four
  38. Thirty–five
  39. Thirty–six
  40. Thirty–seven
  41. Thirty–eight
  42. Thirty–nine
  43. Forty
  44. Forty–one
  45. Forty–two
  46. Forty–three
  47. Forty–four
  48. Forty–five
  49. Forty–six
  50. Forty–seven
  51. Forty–eight
  52. Forty–nine
  53. Fifty
  54. Fifty–one
  55. Fifty–two
  56. Fifty–three
  57. Fifty–four
  58. Fifty–five
  59. Fifty–six
  60. Fifty–seven
  61. Author’s Note
  62. Acknowledgments
  63. Also by Becky Masterman
  64. About the Author
  65. Newsletter Sign-up

Now Beaufort waited in that same grotto until he saw the last of the lights go out in the abbey, signaling that the monks were dreaming their little monk dreams. He put on the monk’s robe he had bought at a costume shop. He put the hood up over his head. He hadn’t seen anyone with a hood up, it was too hot, but he couldn’t take a chance of being recognized.

He moved around the outside of the building and broke into the door leading to the pilgrims’ quarters. The door was a flimsy little thing, and no match for anyone who had lived outside the law. Despite the robe that made sure no pilgrim would question him, he discovered himself to be lucky so far. All the doors to the rooms were open, and not a pilgrim in sight. Probably because of this, the door between the pilgrims’ quarters and the monks’ quarters was unlocked. By the dim hall light he followed the linoleum squares to the door that they had kindly marked for him—INFIRMARY.

He opened the door, this one also unlocked, stepped inside, and lowered his hood. There was a bright night-light attached to the wall that illuminated the room enough for Beaufort to detect a hospital room with two beds and a moderate amount of equipment. An enormous clock was on the wall, next to an empty cross of equal size.

“Hello,” said a voice from the hospital bed, a stronger voice than belonged in this darkened sickroom.

Beaufort jerked with the shock of hearing it, but recovered and played his part the way he imagined it would be played. He saw the figure now, with the back of the bed raised up so the figure could see him as well. “Hello, Brother,” he said, remembering what Brother Eric had been called. “I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

“I don’t want to miss anything,” the man said. His left hand fluttered over his sheet, as if it searched for something, and then found it and was still.

Beaufort came closer to the bed, and saw that the thing the priest was handling was a device with a button, probably for dispensing morphine. “Are you Father Santangelo?” he asked.

“The very same,” said the man.

“Do you know who I am?” Beaufort asked.

“If you’re who I think you are,” Santangelo said, “I’ve been waiting for you a long time.”

“How do you know?”