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Declan! Please, oh please!
I peek around the house’s side, and I see Doctor’s white Land Rover.
* * *
Declan
As soon as I realize the priest is playing intermediary between that piece of shit doctor and the people who have Finley, I go crazy inside. That fucking priest knew about Finley and me last night. I could see it in his eyes—and he wanted me to know he knew. There’s something about the man—something beyond your basic dick religious official. He’s probably buddies with the doctor.
Pretty quickly after getting his ass kicked, the goddamn doctor’s running his mouth, claiming Finley told him she’d been seeing me. I don’t really see the point in saying “no,” so I admit we sort of had a fling and then go full-on Homer, acting like I don’t see what the big deal is, but also saying sorry. The mayor eats it right up, still acting a little deferent to my Carnegie status and the fact that I’m “Homer.”
When I talk to Mayor Acton, Freddy, and the priest, I focus on what I saw when I walked into the clinic—“to get some Benadryl.” How that sick fuck was holding her down, and Finley was crying. I point out I didn’t break in or come seeking her out. (Oops, I’m lying). I just walked in, heard something that didn’t seem right, and walked around the curtain to find the doctor holding her down, rubbing his dick against her underwear while Finley cried with h
er arms tied. I tell them I didn’t lose my shit until I saw the bruises on her face.
“I’ve got a thing for men who hurt women—and you should, too. You want one of your women with a guy like that?” I ask the mayor. “Finley’s sweet. She probably doesn’t stand a chance around that motherfucker.”
He bristles at my language, but he seems to think about it.
I tell Freddy, “That’s your wife’s friend, man. You want her getting knocked around? You gotta keep that guy away from her.”
This whole act is last-ditch insurance in case they haul me off without me getting to see Finley. I guess I’m prescient, because in the end, that’s what they do. When I can hear the doctor talking bullshit to the priest inside the clinic—meaning he’s alive and undamaged enough to speak—the mayor tells me it’s time for me to take a hike.
“We’ve radioed the Celia, and they’ve agreed to wait for you.”
Yeah, because I booked a seat on the ship. The mayor clearly doesn’t know that.
“Freddy here will take you to your place of residence and show you to the dock.”
“What about Finley? I want to hear that you’re doing everything you can to keep her safe. Sounds like that jackass she’s married to is treating her badly. I don’t want to hear about that happening again.”
I give the mayor my best you-don’t-want-to-piss-me-off-or-I’ll-stop-sending-money look, and he nods.
“I’ll see to her. Ensure she’s healthy and safe.”
“I’m going to want an update on that sometime.”
Freddy takes me to the cottage, where I pack up and slide my passport into my pocket. He and I head to Mark Glass’s place, where Freddy tells Mark I’m leaving sooner than planned. Family emergency. I guess they want to keep things discreet for Finley and the doctor.
Mark and I walk to the dock, and he points out his boat. It’s pretty small, and made of wood. I’m pretty sure it’s the same one I came in on. I watch him crank the motor, and I get a look around the dock, and at the Celia, anchored maybe three hundred yards out. Then I “remember” my forgotten passport.
“Want to meet me back here in an hour?” I ask.
“That will work.”
I walk up the hill, then hurry toward the clinic. I come at it from the residence side and stand with my back against the wall outside the door. I spend a couple minutes listening to the women’s voices as they talk inside while cleaning up our mess. Finley’s at the church, one of them says. I try to make it over there discreetly, but I see some little kid and raise a hand to wave at him, then put my finger to my lips. Don’t tell, buddy.
I check all the church’s doors, finding there are three but the back two are locked. The church’s big, wooden door—the one on the front—is ajar. My heart pounds as I stand outside it, listening to what’s going on inside for what feels like a long time before I step silently into the back of the main room. That’s when I hear her soft Hail Marys. I can’t see her, so she must be kneeling in the front.
I start sweating as I spot that fucking Father Russo, dressed in all his priest shit, sitting on the third row from the front. I have to really work hard on my breathing so I don’t lose my shit while I stand behind a partial wall and wait for…something. I’ll know when I see it.
I try to keep track of the minutes. Five? Seven? Four hundred? Finally, I see her, and again, I go all sweaty. I watch as she approaches Father Fucker. I think she asks if she can use the women’s room. My blood boils that she has to ask.
He must say “yes.” I watch what hallway she goes down, and then I take a big breath and get going. There’s only one option that I know of: I crawl down the far left aisle, moving fast and hiding behind church pews. My shoulder aches, and my head throbs where Freddy hit me with a metal surgical tray, but I’m still pretty agile. Father Russo seems distracted.
When I get into the hall, my head spins hard. Women’s room. Fuck, I need the—
There it is. I open the door…step slowly inside. There are two stalls. As I lean down to look for her feet, I hear a sniffle.
