Mr. Stark, his Sociology teacher, would have agreed completely. William Stark didn’t seem to mind too much, however. He still gave Avery good marks for conduct, even after that embarrassing incident with the smoke bombs Avery had slipped under his car’s hood. Man, the smoke had been everywhere.
Just thinking about it made Avery smile.
Teddy Lister was sitting next to him, just as he did every day. He and Teddy were best buds, and Avery couldn’t imagine a cooler person in the whole world, except maybe for Teddy’s nanny. Kelli had won big bonus points in his eyes when she hadn’t narced them out about the magazine. That, and she was about the coolest grown-up he had ever met. And pretty. Very pretty. He’d have paid good money to see her in one of his father’s dirty magazines.
Avery frowned and shook his head. No. On second thought, he didn’t want to see her that way. She was too cool to be exposed and naked like that. Maybe in the
Sports Illustrated
Swimsuit Issue instead. He was only ten, but Avery could already appreciate the idea of letting his imagination paint in some of the finer details.
Teddy yawned next to him and shook his head in an effort to stay awake. Mr. Stark looked over in their direction, doubtless trying to see if Avery was up to no good. It was like a game between them: Avery would try to get away with something, anything, and Stark would try to catch him before he could do anything too drastic, like blow up the school.
Neither of them would have admitted it, but he bet Stark enjoyed the game just as much as he did. Good, clean fun; and it was free, too.
Teddy started to snore, very lightly, and Avery tapped him in the ribs with an elbow. Teddy’d been acting weird all day. He was pale and so tired he looked like he could just nod off. Of course he had just nodded off, thus, the snoring.
His best friend grunted and woke up, but he didn’t look at all happy about it, “Watch the elbow.”
“Then wake up, monkey.”
“I’m not a monkey.” What was the word Kelli was always using? Petulant. Teddy was being petulant.
“You’re being petulant. Wake up.”
“Did you boys need to share a few secrets with the rest of us?” Stark stood up from his desk and looked in their direction. He was in a good mood today, which was a blessing. Avery could tell he was in a good mood, because he was actually smiling as he asked the question. All around the room several of the girls were looking at the teacher with moo-cow eyes. All of the students had to wear their little uniforms, blazers and slacks for the boys, blazers and skirts for the girls, but Mr. Stark was the only teacher who was always dressed up for teaching; charcoal gray suit and a lighter gray shirt with a dark red tie. He sort of looked like he belonged in an ad from one of the
GQ
magazines his father set in front of his stack of
Penthouses
.
“No, sir.” Avery spoke and Teddy did, too. They weren’t stupid enough to ignore a question they knew good and well was directed at them.
“Good. Just making sure, because if you’re feeling the need to talk, we could always just finish this quiz tomorrow and let you come on up here and read your reports now, instead.” Stark was still smiling. That was a big, big plus.
“Well, I finished my test, sir.” Avery held up the page to make sure the man could see that he had, in fact, finished all of the questions. Next to him, Teddy started actually filling in answers, his hand moving with the desperate speed of someone who had just realized he’d forgotten there was a test to take.
Stark grinned. It was a wide, friendly smile that was obviously amused.
“Of course you did, Avery. Well, open your book and start reading at page 72. And read quietly this time.”
Avery nodded and followed orders. All around him, the other kids were still working on their papers: everyone except Jayce Thornton, who had also finished and was now making goo-goo eyes at the teacher. She was his only competition for the top of the class. She’d probably win, too, because she was smart enough not to do things like super-gluing the teacher’s desk drawers shut. That little escapade had actually managed to make Stark’s smile go away. He’d been sent to the offices on that day, and had spent two hours explaining the reasons for his actions to Sister Celeste. Two hours of his life with one of the scariest women God had ever put on the face of the earth had convinced Avery to behave himself. He’d vowed never to do anything that stupid again, and while he hadn’t managed to keep the vow, he had certainly meant to.
He shot one last look at Jayce, and saw her staring at Mr. Stark. He wanted to be Mr. Stark when he grew up, or at least to look good enough to make girls like Jayce think he was something special.
When Jayce’s head turned in his direction, he looked down hastily. Girls were his Kryptonite. He couldn’t talk to them. They made his face all hot and his tongue as confused as Teddy looked working on question number seven.
Avery lifted the edge of his test and let Teddy copy. His friend smiled gratefully and wrote down the answer.
Avery hoped his bud wasn’t coming down with something. He didn’t want to get sick and he didn’t want Teddy getting sick, either. Halloween was coming around soon enough and it wouldn’t be any fun hitting houses with toilet paper if they were too ill to enjoy themselves.
Avery thought of Mr. Stark’s house and wondered if he should set some eggs aside. How long did it take for an egg to get really, really stinky? He didn’t know, but he was willing to find out.
IV
Danni Hopkins spent the entire class looking like her family had just been murdered. It seemed like everything had the girl on the edge of tears. Maggie didn’t know the girl all that well, but she hoped everything was all right. Danni seemed like a decent enough girl, even if she was a little too bubbly for Maggie’s tastes.
As soon as the class was dismissed, Danni Hopkins ran from the room, her face collapsing. Several of the girls in the room went after her, either to help or to see if there was going to be anything good to gossip about.
Maggie wasn’t among them. She had other things she needed to take care of. Ten minutes after Danni had a nervous breakdown she was on her way to the Sacred Hearts Cathedral, a small church with a grandiose name. She slipped her short skirt on over her jeans and then removed the latter with practiced ease.
She had no idea why Jason Soulis wanted her to do what he’d hired her for, but with what he was paying she’d already decided she could worry about her conscience later.
Know Thy Enemy. Someone had said that once, but she couldn’t remember who. Patrick Flannery was not her enemy, but he was her target for the afternoon. He would, she suspected, be the easiest of her prey to capture.
The notion brought a smile to her face. Stalking priests: her father would have an absolute coronary if he knew about this. Even more than he would if he knew what she did to pay her bills and keep herself at Winslow Harper.
The interior of the church was semi-dark and very solemn. As always, she was in awe of the place. Not just because it was the House of God, but because it was a beautiful structure. Everything about the building spoke of quiet dignity and strength, from the stone walls to the large carved Christ on the crucifix that adorned the wall above the pulpit. The stained-glass windows caught the sun as it shone down but muted the intensity of the light and painted it in primary colors as it fell to the marble floor.
Father Patrick Flannery was the only living soul in the church when she got there. She knew he would be. She’d been attending the church for most of her life and often stopped by after school.
He saw her and smiled, and aside from that, left her in peace. Maggie never came to the church to speak with anyone unless it was time for her confession. She had told the man many of her sins, but she had never once mentioned her line of work. She would wait on that particular confession until after she had graduated from the university. The reason was simple enough: she knew what she did was considered a sin, but as far as she was concerned it was a minor sin at worst. Mary Magdalene had been forgiven and she knew that she would be, too, when the time came. But it wasn’t time yet. Part of contrition might require that she stop, and she wasn’t ready for that, not yet. She had to follow through with her plans, and if that meant keeping a few secrets from her family and from the priests that she saw regularly, she could accept that.
Father Flannery was in his late thirties, if she had to hazard a guess. She could still remember when he first showed up at the church, back when she was a freshman at Sacred Hearts. He was stocky, but not fat, with hair that couldn’t decide if it wanted to be red, brown, or blond, and a wide, Irish face. He looked like he should have been playing college football back then and these days he looked like he should have been sitting in a pub, talking about the good old days when he played college football.
He was friendly, but slightly distant for the most part. He never let himself get too close to any of his parishioners, save in a professional capacity, and Maggie thought she knew why.
Father Flannery was a little afraid of losing his self-control. He was good about hiding it, good about not making his desires blatantly obvious, but she knew how he felt. She had known since the first time she’d seen his eyes on her legs and her breasts during Mass. She’d known in the way he avoided looking her in the eyes, and in the simple little gestures he made when he saw her. His hands fluttered like birds, and his jaw clenched and unclenched with astonishing regularity when he was around women he found attractive.
And she doubted that it was coincidence that he was almost always the priest who handled confessions for the children at Sacred Hearts. Oh, it might be that he was simply forced to deal with their confessions as the youngest priest at the church and the one who got stuck with the least likeable tasks, but she doubted it. Even if that were the case, he was certainly the most attentive.
He was not a pedophile. She had no doubt of that in her mind. He had probably never broken his vows, either, because he was still as nervous as a virgin whenever he was around a woman.
But he thought about it. He thought about it a lot.
Father Flannery made himself busy, dusting the pews and generally moving about as she lit a candle and then settled herself down for a quick prayer, asking the Lord for forgiveness. She had to do this. She needed the money.
If she wanted to be completely honest with herself, she was looking forward to the challenge.
V
Danni didn’t tell anyone. She didn’t dare. The bastard had taken all of the evidence from her purse and carefully slipped it into an evidence bag. Then he’d sealed the bag in front of her and meticulously written on the date.
“No one has to see this, ever, Danielle. We made a deal, and I intend to keep it. But you’d do well to keep your end of the bargain. Do we understand each other?” He’d tried to sound all calm and authoritative, but he’d failed. He’d been gloating.
He hadn’t exactly raped her. It had been consensual, mostly, but he’d been gloating, savoring her discomfort, and she knew in her heart that, for him, half the fun had been knowing she didn’t enjoy herself. It was a power trip, just like they always said rape was.
Either way it was a violation, and she hated him for it. She was just glad he’d used condoms, because the idea of any part of him near her or in her was enough to make her want to cry again. And just as soon as she thought it, the notion became reality and the damned tears started all over.
It was Ben that finally got her to talk.
Ben Kirby was a quiet, sweet, funny boy who always made her feel better when she was down. He wasn’t a lover and had never tried to even date her, but he was a friend when she needed one.
And God, she needed one so badly.
Ben always seemed to know when to come by, when to crack one of his stupid little jokes, or even when to just offer a shoulder to lean on. He’d found her out in the park behind the university, sitting on a bench, and doing her best not to fall apart again. Several birds were in the area, all of them whoring for pieces of bread. She didn’t have any, but Ben did. He sat down next to her on the bench and said nothing for at least five minutes. He just tore off little pieces of white bread and threw them to the gathering crowd of pigeons, seagulls, and crows. After a few minutes he started giving some of the birds nicknames, pointing them out to her as they pulled different stunts, making up gossip about the lives of the damned birds and making her laugh.
It was silly and it was futile, and she laughed just the same, enjoying every second of the show until he ran out of bread.
When the birds had finally taken a hint and gone off to seek new people with more treats, Ben looked her in the eyes and smiled sadly. He almost always smiled that way, like there was something missing from his life and he knew what it was but could do nothing at all about it.
“Want to tell me what happened?”
“I can’t, Ben.”
He nodded. “Okay. That’s cool.” He patted his shoulder and gave her a puppy-dog expression that was so over-the-top pathetic that she laughed again, and then settled her head on the offered shoulder.
They sat that way for almost half an hour, until she was sure his arm must have fallen asleep. “I won’t judge you, Danni. You know that, right?”
“Yeah,” she sniffed and nodded against his Winslow Harper University sweatshirt. “Yeah, I know. It’s just. I did something stupid.”
“Did you hurt anyone?” It was a simple enough question. She shook her head.
“Then it couldn’t have been too stupid.”
“Well, it was up there.”
“Look, just don’t . . . don’t be too hard on yourself. If it was something you did, don’t do it again, and if it was something someone else did to you, you can always call the cops.”
The last part was meant as a joke, of course. She knew that because he always said it when he was cheering her up. But she broke down right then and there, and the next thing she knew he was holding her against him, rocking her like a baby. She told him everything.