Page 94 of We Are All Guilty Here

“Yes, ma’am. He’s been really helpful. All he wants to do is find Paisley.” Emmy turned toward the back of the house. “Is someone here?”

“Father Nate,” Carol said. “He’s making tea.”

Jude offered, “I’ll give him a hand.”

She didn’t wait for permission, nor did she need directions. Her great-uncle Constantine had designed the houses in this part of North Falls. He hadn’t been a good architect so much as a good salesman. The Walkers had benefited from the upgraded window package that kept the house from feeling like an underground bunker. The overhead lights were on in the kitchen. Dawn gave the backyard a purple undertone. Father Nate Trask was putting the kettle on the stove. He nearly dropped it when he saw Jude.

“You were supposed to be dead.”

She shrugged. “They said the same thing to Jesus.”

“I see you still have that nasty mouth,” he said. “Why are you here? This family has been through enough. I won’t let you cause trouble.”

“I’m here to bring Paisley Walker home.” Jude still had her old business cards. She reached into her purse and slapped one on the counter. “Where were you yesterday morning, Father?”

He made a show of leaning down to look at the card rather than touch it. “Judas betrayed Jesus.”

“Thanks for the breaking news. Where were you yesterday morning?”

He puffed up in outrage. “What are you implying?”

“There’s no implication. I’m explicitly asking you for an alibi.”

“Father.” Emmy had sneaked up behind Jude. “Carol needs you. I’ll bring through the tea.”

Jude returned the priest’s scalding look as he passed by.

Emmy said, “Virgil just called. Highway Patrol lost Carol’s brother. They’re trying to find his car again.”

Jude nodded, though Nate had managed to snap her equilibrium. She looked for concrete objects around the kitchen to bring her back into the present: the Cuisinart food processer, the Keurig coffee maker, another 3-D Jesus hanging on the wall with family photos arrayed like a Venn diagram. She felt her heart rate return to normal.

“That’s the brother. Reggie McAllister.”

Jude didn’t bother with her reading glasses. Reggie stood with his arm around Paisley. They had the same blond hair and blue eyes, though Reggie’s prison tattoos were a stark contrast to the girl’s white Communion dress.

Emmy turned the knob on the stove. The gas caught under the kettle. She leaned her hip against the counter. “Why were you going at Father Nate?”

“Spite,” Jude admitted. “Seems I’ve fallen back into old patterns.”

“Elijah probably keeps beer in the fridge if you want one.”

“Jack was my drink, but thank you.” Jude opened the cabinets in search of teabags. She’d had quite enough of Emmy’s bitchiness. “If this is an acquaintance abduction, it’s through the father’s illicit contacts.”

“Yep.” Emmy said. “I sent Cole to poke around the parents’ bedroom. Maybe Elijah left some phone numbers in his pockets.”

“You’re doing a good job with him. He’s a smart kid.”

“I’m not looking for your approval.” Emmy opened a cabinet above the stove. She found the box of teabags and shook it like she’d won a trophy. “What’s your beef with Father Nate?”

“He’s a priest in a time when priests have lost the benefit of the doubt,” Jude said. “Also, he’s an asshole.”

Emmy shrugged as if to concede the point.

Jude asked, “Did Nate have any contact with the previous victims?”

“The Bakers were staunch Catholics. Paul Dalrymple didn’t go to church. Hannah was raised Baptist, but she calls herself a Christmas Christian. Only there for the holidays.”

Jude noticed a change in her tone. “Hannah Dalrymple, Madison’s mother?”

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