St. Jerome’s. Still, it was troubling news. People were killed every day in Los Angeles, but Luis couldn’t remember the last time he’d heard of the murder of a priest.
“If you see anything, give us a call,” the first officer, whose name badge identified him as Ybarra, said as he handed cards to Luis and Pastor Whillans. “This appears to be an isolated incident, but you never know.”
Appears to be.
“Thank you very much, Officer,” Whillans said, his hand weighing heavily on Luis’s arm.
They watched the squad car drive away, then turned back to the chapel.
“Awful story,” Whillans said. “It sounds like someone was waiting for him and shot him as he went to the rectory.”
“A robbery?” Luis asked.
“No. The shooter sat down and waited for the police to come.”
Luis could conjure no one reason somebody would shoot a priest. Rather, he could come up with a thousand.
“Well, we’ll have to be on our guard,” Whillans said. “But more than that, we’ll have to make sure our students and parishioners feel safe. I’ll write something up and let Erna circulate it. Will you tell the other priests?”
“Yes, Father,” Luis said, guiding Whillans to the door of the admin wing. “Anything else right now? I need to grab a shower before morning Mass.”
“Yes, in fact. Bridgette and I were talking about you last night,” Whillans said, referring to the laywoman with whom he’d maintained a noncelibate relationship for the past twenty years, something Luis was still conflicted about. “It’s the Feast of Saint Peter Claver this Sunday. I think—and she agreed with me—that it’s time you deliver the homily at Mass. Is that something you feel up to?”
Luis was surprised. Since he’d become assistant pastor, Whillans had gradually increased his duties around the parish in order to help shield Whillans’s condition from inquiry. Luis had thrown himself into these and learned quite a bit, but the homily? So soon? He knew that the other priests at St. Augustine’s weren’t likely to begrudge him, but this would be putting a novice out in front of the congregation as well.
“I think so,” Luis said, hoping he sounded steadier than he felt. “What’s the scripture?”
“Up to you,” Whillans said. “But being Claver, maybe Jeremiah 25:5?”
“‘Turn ye again now everyone from his evil way, and from the evil of your doing?’” Luis recited, feeling like he was back in faith formation class. “Mind reading a draft or two in advance?”
“Not at all,” Whillans said. “One more thing. There was already a voice mail on the office phone this morning—Michael Story asking for you to give him a call. Any idea what it’s about?”
Luis froze. Though some in the archdiocese knew of Luis’s involvement sorting out the Marshak human-trafficking case that summer, only Whillans knew the whole story. Including that the ambitious and possibly venal deputy DA, to whom Luis had fed his findings, was not a person Luis thought he’d hear from again.
“No idea. Probably just some detail about the Marshak case.”
“Of course,” Whillans replied. “Just wanted to make sure you got the message. Let me know if it’s anything else.”
“I will, Father,” Luis lied.
Dr. Suyin “Susan” Auyong stared at the headline in disbelief. Late for her morning shift at the clinic, she’d ignored the texts, e-mails, and voice mails from Nan that had her phone lit up like a pachinko machine when she’d woken from a less-than-four-hour nap following her last shift. It was her boss, the clinic’s—well, unlicensed clinic’s—chief administrator, Clover Gao, who’d brought the news story to her attention.
“Isn’t this your friend?” she’d asked without feeling.
Priest Shot Outside San Gabriel Parish.
It wasn’t even on the front page, didn’t warrant more than a thousand words. Was that why she didn’t take the news as hard as Clover wanted her to? Or was it that she
“If you see anything, give us a call,” the first officer, whose name badge identified him as Ybarra, said as he handed cards to Luis and Pastor Whillans. “This appears to be an isolated incident, but you never know.”
Appears to be.
“Thank you very much, Officer,” Whillans said, his hand weighing heavily on Luis’s arm.
They watched the squad car drive away, then turned back to the chapel.
“Awful story,” Whillans said. “It sounds like someone was waiting for him and shot him as he went to the rectory.”
“A robbery?” Luis asked.
“No. The shooter sat down and waited for the police to come.”
Luis could conjure no one reason somebody would shoot a priest. Rather, he could come up with a thousand.
“Well, we’ll have to be on our guard,” Whillans said. “But more than that, we’ll have to make sure our students and parishioners feel safe. I’ll write something up and let Erna circulate it. Will you tell the other priests?”
“Yes, Father,” Luis said, guiding Whillans to the door of the admin wing. “Anything else right now? I need to grab a shower before morning Mass.”
“Yes, in fact. Bridgette and I were talking about you last night,” Whillans said, referring to the laywoman with whom he’d maintained a noncelibate relationship for the past twenty years, something Luis was still conflicted about. “It’s the Feast of Saint Peter Claver this Sunday. I think—and she agreed with me—that it’s time you deliver the homily at Mass. Is that something you feel up to?”
Luis was surprised. Since he’d become assistant pastor, Whillans had gradually increased his duties around the parish in order to help shield Whillans’s condition from inquiry. Luis had thrown himself into these and learned quite a bit, but the homily? So soon? He knew that the other priests at St. Augustine’s weren’t likely to begrudge him, but this would be putting a novice out in front of the congregation as well.
“I think so,” Luis said, hoping he sounded steadier than he felt. “What’s the scripture?”
“Up to you,” Whillans said. “But being Claver, maybe Jeremiah 25:5?”
“‘Turn ye again now everyone from his evil way, and from the evil of your doing?’” Luis recited, feeling like he was back in faith formation class. “Mind reading a draft or two in advance?”
“Not at all,” Whillans said. “One more thing. There was already a voice mail on the office phone this morning—Michael Story asking for you to give him a call. Any idea what it’s about?”
Luis froze. Though some in the archdiocese knew of Luis’s involvement sorting out the Marshak human-trafficking case that summer, only Whillans knew the whole story. Including that the ambitious and possibly venal deputy DA, to whom Luis had fed his findings, was not a person Luis thought he’d hear from again.
“No idea. Probably just some detail about the Marshak case.”
“Of course,” Whillans replied. “Just wanted to make sure you got the message. Let me know if it’s anything else.”
“I will, Father,” Luis lied.
Dr. Suyin “Susan” Auyong stared at the headline in disbelief. Late for her morning shift at the clinic, she’d ignored the texts, e-mails, and voice mails from Nan that had her phone lit up like a pachinko machine when she’d woken from a less-than-four-hour nap following her last shift. It was her boss, the clinic’s—well, unlicensed clinic’s—chief administrator, Clover Gao, who’d brought the news story to her attention.
“Isn’t this your friend?” she’d asked without feeling.
Priest Shot Outside San Gabriel Parish.
It wasn’t even on the front page, didn’t warrant more than a thousand words. Was that why she didn’t take the news as hard as Clover wanted her to? Or was it that she
Similar Books
A Crown Of War (Book 4)
Michael Ploof
Daughter of Sherwood
Laura Strickland
That Girl is Mine - Part Two
Eve Cates
Jacks Magic Beans
Brian Keene
The Golden Apple of Shangri-La
David Barnett
Beauty and the Greek
Kim Lawrence
The Goblin King
Shona Husk
Death of a Wine Merchant
David Dickinson
The Betrayal
Chris Taylor