Credible Threat, page 31
That’s when the gun appeared, as she extricated it from the folds of her habit. Alarmed people in nearby pews scrambled to distance themselves from danger, but Archbishop Gillespie held his ground.
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said, “but you’re right. I failed your son—failed your whole family—and that failure did incalculable damage. But killing me won’t bring your David back, and it won’t bring your husband back either. If you decide to splatter this holy place with my blood, you may kill me, but you won’t harm the Catholic Church. It will still be standing, long after I’m dead and gone and long after you’ve been hauled away to prison. So shoot me if you must, but please aim carefully. You’ve already taken one innocent life—please don’t take any others. I’m so sorry for what’s happened to you and your family, Rachel, but don’t make it worse.”
For a long moment, it was as though the people inside the cathedral were all holding their breath. No one moved. No one spoke. And then, without another word, Rachel surrendered the weapon to the archbishop and raised her hands. It was over.
By then Detective Lasko had shouldered his way past Ali. Holding a pair of cuffs, he wrenched Rachel’s arms down behind her back and cuffed her wrists together.
“Rachel Higgins,” he said, “I’m placing you under arrest for the murders of Father Andrew O’Toole and Richard Higgins.”
Rachel stood there for a moment with her head bowed. As Detective Lasko prepared to lead her away, she raised it again and gave the archbishop a piercing look.
“At least you said you’re sorry,” she murmured. “Those are words I never thought I’d hear.”
“I am sorry, my child,” he said. “And I’ll be praying for your immortal soul.”
“Don’t bother,” she hissed back at him. “I’m not afraid of going to hell. I’ve been living there for years.”
“Yes,” the archbishop said quietly, “but if you ever ask for forgiveness, it shall be granted.”
With that, Detective Lasko, joined by someone the archbishop didn’t recognize—another cop, most likely—stationed themselves on either side of her, took hold of her arms, and escorted her back up the aisle the same way she had come.
“Thank you, Father,” Archbishop Gillespie whispered aloud. “Thank you for your many blessings.”
|CHAPTER 60|
Having just witnessed what had to have been a miracle, Ali eased her Taser back into her purse. For the longest time, no one in the congregation moved or uttered a word. It was as if they’d all been frozen in place—some in their pews and some still standing in the aisle awaiting Communion. Then Archbishop Gillespie broke the silence.
“Please take me back to the dais, Father Mike,” he said. “I would like to take Communion today along with everyone else.”
Then, to Ali’s astonishment, Father Howard picked up exactly where he’d left off, almost as though nothing had happened. The organ started up again, and soon the congregation returned to singing “Amazing Grace,” more softly than before, but she had the sense that as the familiar words came from the singers’ mouths, they did so with a whole new meaning.
After receiving his own Communion, the archbishop closed the service by reciting the Lord’s Prayer, joined by every person in the Cathedral of the Holy Mother. For Ali in particular, and most likely for everyone else who heard them, those words resonated more powerfully than ever before. Everyone there had been within a matter of feet from what could have turned into a mass shooting, and yet they’d all walked away unscathed. Was it the calming words of Archbishop Gillespie that had saved them, or was it something else? Someone else?
The recessional was a song Ali had never heard before—“When I Come to the End of the Road”—and it seemed entirely appropriate, not only for Father Andrew O’Toole but also for Rachel Higgins. She hadn’t died today, but in every way that mattered, her life was over. There would probably be years of court proceedings before her fate was ultimately determined, but for now she no longer posed a danger to anyone other than herself.
Since Father O’Toole was returning to Pennsylvania for burial in the family plot, the casket, along with all the masses of flowers, remained in the church when everyone left. Ali glanced back in that direction as she departed and saw a single multicolored ray from the stained-glass windows crowning the top of the polished wood casket, almost as though it were bestowing a final blessing. For some reason that, too, seemed oddly appropriate.
There was a public gathering in the cathedral’s social hall. After that a much smaller group headed back to the archbishop’s residence, where, in the main dining room, Sister Anne had produced a sumptuous buffet luncheon.
Approaching Archbishop Gillespie’s head table, Ali was surprised to see Jack Stoneman—a clean-shaven, neatly dressed Jack Stoneman—sitting there chatting with the archbishop while Gavin James looked on from the sidelines.
“I’m so sorry about Father O’Toole,” she heard Jack say. “I’ll be forever grateful for his kindness, and I can’t thank you enough for bringing Mr. James on board.”
“You’re most welcome,” the archbishop said. “I’m glad I could be of help, but I believe I had some outside help on that score,” he added, giving Ali a wink that neither Jack nor Gavin could see.
Sister Anselm, now in civilian clothing, was back to fussing. “You mustn’t overdo,” she warned her patient. “Officiating at the funeral was one thing, but playing host to a whole group like this…”
“I can manage, Sister Anselm,” he told her. “If being at that funeral this morning didn’t kill me, I’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for.”
Ali could see that Sister Anselm didn’t appreciate what came dangerously close to being a reprimand. When she walked off to stand by herself for a while, Ali went to join her.
“He is tough,” Ali noted. “Rachel Higgins came to that funeral determined to kill him, and he talked her down.”
“That may well be,” Sister Anselm retorted, not the least bit mollified, “but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s my patient and he’s still just a matter of hours out of the ICU.”
Ali had been concerned that Detectives Lasko and Horner might turn up at the residence, asking too many questions about how exactly the folks from High Noon had known as much as they knew, but the investigators must have had other fish to fry, and they didn’t make an appearance. For the time being, it looked as though Frigg’s assistance in solving the case would go unnoticed, and that was all to the good.
Toward the end of the early-afternoon luncheon, Father Daniel entered the room looking distressed and holding an envelope. He went straight to Archbishop Gillespie, and the two men huddled together for some time, speaking back and forth in urgent but hushed tones. Finally the archbishop pulled away and tapped on his glass with a spoon, silencing the general conversation.
“I left Father Daniel a message earlier today, which he will forward to the proper authorities in due time,” Archbishop Gillespie announced. “For now it’s not fair to leave him carrying the burden of that message all on his own. The letter tenders my resignation as archbishop of the Phoenix Archdiocese.”
Audible gasps erupted around the room. Ali looked quickly in Sister Anselm’s direction and saw that her friend’s face had suddenly gone paler than usual.
“I was brought on board to deal with some very specific problems here in the archdiocese,” the archbishop continued. “Some of those had already come to light by the time I arrived. Others, like the one with Father Needham, didn’t surface until later. Father O’Toole’s unfortunate death and what happened today are the final culmination of that shameful story. And now that it’s over, I need to put it behind me as well.
“I’ve had a good run. I loved working here with Father Daniel and Father Andrew. And I’ve loved working with the nuns and priests who are always on hand doing the Lord’s work. But I’m old. I no longer have the kind of stamina it takes to do this job. And now, after years of mending the church’s fences, I have some fence mending of my own to do.
“Some of you know that I have an older brother named Anthony from whom I’ve been estranged for decades. He’s in ill health and confined to an assisted-living facility in Green Bay, Wisconsin. Once I turn in my miter, that’s the first place I’m going—to Green Bay to see if there’s any way to put the quarrel between my brother and me to rest while there’s still time.
“After that there’s a monastery near Santa Fe that takes in broken-down priests like me and puts us out to pasture. So with that, and before Sister Anselm pitches a complete fit, I’m going to ask Father Mike here to wheel me back to my quarters so I can have a lie-down. She’s right, you know, I’m not as young as I used to be, and for that matter, Sister Anselm, neither are you.”
For the first time in a long time, it appeared as though Archbishop Francis Gillespie had had the last word.
Ali had been invited to spend a second night, but she declined. Instead, at three o’clock, once again in full afternoon traffic made worse by its being Friday, she headed home, first up the 51 to the 101 before eventually merging onto I-17. As she inched along, she found herself looking around at the bright blue sky above the desert scenery, and it was as though, for the first time in months, she was seeing it—as though the dark clouds left behind by Alex Munsey’s death had finally lifted. Maybe the challenges of the last few days had been enough to drag her out of the doldrums.
Somewhere north of Cordes Junction, she called B.
“So it’s over, then,” he marveled when she finished telling him the story. “The killer’s in jail, and nobody else got hurt.”
“That’s how it looks,” Ali replied. “I can’t help but feel sorry for Rachel, though. She lost everything, yet all it took for her to hand over her weapon was for someone to finally get around to saying he was sorry.”
“Didn’t the cops wonder how it was that you were always one step ahead of them?”
“They might have wondered,” Ali allowed, “but they didn’t ask.”
“Sounds like a job well done,” B. said. “So I guess you can hang up your Wonder Woman costume for the time being.”
They both laughed at that, but then B. fell quiet. “I’m going to miss Archbishop Gillespie,” he said finally. “From the moment I met the man, I felt like he was my rock. Now, after everything we did—and especially after what you did—to save him, with him retiring, it sounds as though we’re going to lose him anyway.”
“You must not have read the fine print,” Ali said.
“What fine print?” a puzzled B. asked.
“It’s all part of the grand bargain,” Ali replied. “If you let yourself care about someone, it’s always with the understanding that someday, one way or another, you’re going to lose them. I felt the same way when Leland Brooks went back to the UK, and I know I’ll feel that way again when Sister Anselm finally retires. That’s how life works.”
B. paused again. “So you’re saying better to have loved and lost?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” Ali told him. “One hundred percent.”
More from this Series
No Honor Among Thieves
A Last Goodbye
Web of Evil
Book 2
Hand of Evil
Book 3
More from the Author
Taking the Veil
MatchUp
|ABOUT THE AUTHOR|
PHOTOGRAPH BY MARY ANN HALPIN STUDIOS
J.A. JANCE is the New York Times bestselling author of the Ali Reynolds series, the J.P. Beaumont series, and the Joanna Brady series, as well as five interrelated southwestern thrillers featuring the Walker family. Born in South Dakota and brought up in Bisbee, Arizona, Jance lives with her husband in Seattle, Washington, and Tucson, Arizona. Visit her online at JAJance.com.
FOR MORE ON THIS AUTHOR:
SimonandSchuster.com/Authors/J-A-Jance
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ALSO BY J.A. JANCE
ALI REYNOLDS MYSTERIES
Edge of Evil
Web of Evil
Hand of Evil
Cruel Intent
Trial by Fire
Fatal Error
Left for Dead
Deadly Stakes
Moving Target
A Last Goodbye (A Novella)
Cold Betrayal
No Honor Among Thieves (A Novella)
Clawback
Random Acts (A Novella)
Man Overboard
Duel to the Death
The A List
JOANNA BRADY MYSTERIES
Desert Heat
Tombstone Courage
Shoot/Don’t Shoot
Dead to Rights
Skeleton Canyon
Rattlesnake Crossing
Outlaw Mountain
Devil’s Claw
Paradise Lost
Partner in Crime
Exit Wounds
Dead Wrong
Damage Control
Fire and Ice
Judgment Call
The Old Blue Line (A Novella)
Remains of Innocence
No Honor Among Thieves (A Novella)
Random Acts (A Novella)
Downfall
Field of Bones
J.P. BEAUMONT MYSTERIES
Until Proven Guilty
Injustice for All
Trial by Fury
Taking the Fifth
Improbable Cause
A More Perfect Union
Dismissed with Prejudice
Minor in Possession
Payment in Kind
Without Due Process
Failure to Appear
Lying in Wait
Name Withheld
Breach of Duty
Birds of Prey
Partner in Crime
Long Time Gone
Justice Denied
Fire and Ice
Betrayal of Trust
Ring in the Dead (A Novella)
Second Watch
Stand Down (A Novella)
Dance of the Bones
Still Dead (A Novella)
Proof of Life
Sins of the Fathers
WALKER FAMILY MYSTERIES
Hour of the Hunter
Kiss of the Bees
Day of the Dead
Queen of the Night
Dance of the Bones
POETRY
After the Fire
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2020 by J.A. Jance
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First Gallery Books hardcover edition June 2020
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Jance, Judith A., author.
Title: Credible threat / J.A. Jance.
Description: First Gallery Books hardcover edition. | New York : Gallery Books, 2020. | Series: Ali Reynolds
Identifiers: LCCN 2020000156 (print) | LCCN 2020000157 (ebook) | ISBN 9781982131074 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781982131098 (ebook) Subjects: LCSH: Reynolds, Ali (Fictitious character)—Fiction. | Women private investigators—Arizona—Fiction. | Murder—Investigation—Fiction. | GSAFD: Suspense fiction. | Mystery fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3560.A44 C74 2020 (print) | LCC PS3560.A44 (ebook) | DDC 813/.54—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020000156
LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020000157
ISBN 978-1-9821-3107-4
ISBN 978-1-9821-3109-8 (ebook)
J.A. Jance, Credible Threat
