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“Thanks, Father. Hope whatever kid you came to visit ends up okay.” She steps onto the car, and its then, when the dog is facing me, that I can see a logo etched into the vest across its chest.
I focus on it, wondering why it’s so familiar to me. Blue and yellow, set around a company name:Paws For A Cause.
It’s not until the elevator door closes that I recall the same design on the T-shirt of the man who confessed the night before.
A service dog company. And then it clicks. Not just the identity of the logo, but the connection to Lia. No wonder her dog didn’t bark when she was kidnapped. It probably recognized her kidnapper.
A hardthunkhits my shoulder, snapping me out of my thoughts, and I glance down at the woman who ran into me, her hair pulled up on top of her head with a scarf tied around the curled black locks, above bright spring green eyes. The frilly cream-colored lace shirt and pencil skirt give her a vintage look, like something straight out of the 1940’s. A classic beauty who could easily grace a magazine, and the only person, besides my deceased daughter, whose vomit I’ve cleaned.
“Oh, my God, I’m so sorry!” She bends forward to pick up her purse, and when she straightens, sliding the strap up her shoulder, her jaw drops. “Oh. I’m … I’m sorry, Father.”
“I just keep running into you, don’t I?”
Following a quick glance around, her cherry-stained lips stretch into a demure smile. Something sweet, like vanilla and fruit, lingers on the air. “So, you chase down penitents and follow them everywhere?”
“I’m here to visit a family.” I glance at the elevator, then back to her. “What about you?”
“My grandmother’s a frequent flyer here. Apparently, indwelling catheters and nursing homes do not mix.”
The elevator dings again, totally vacant this time, but I let it go, not wanting to rush off on her twice.
“Just popping in on my way to work to see her.”
“What is it you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“Hmmm. I don’t know …” She bites her bottom lip in a teasing way, cheeks dimpling adorably. “If I tell you, you might think differently of me.”
“Well, now I’m even more curious.”
“Promise you won’t curse me, or something, if I tell you.”
Brow raised, I bite back the urge to smile. “I’m a priest, not a warlock.”
“Well, that’s too bad. I thought I’d invite you to a séance tomorrow night. Black candles. Ouija boards. It’s a good time.”
The chuckle that escapes me comes as a surprise. It’s been a while since someone made me laugh.
“I’m kidding. I’m a medical records clerk here. For now, anyway, until I move onto something less exciting.” She huffs and diverts her gaze away once again.
“You work … here?”
“Almost ten years now. Wow. Time flies when you’re having fun.”
My quest for answers has taken an interesting turn down an unexpected path, so I steal the opportunity to gather as many details as I can. “Are you familiar with Paws For a Cause?”
“I’ve seen the dogs around here on occasion, but I stay in the basement mostly. We don’t get a lot of traffic down there. In fact, they rarely let us up here, unless we have to pick up or deliver a chart. We’re like … the undead sequestered from the living.”
In the pause that follows, I try to imagine that older man walking these halls, smelling of whiskey and cigarettes, looking for his next victim. Seems he’d scare away any child, but then I remember the way Isabella had haphazardly ran toward anyone with a dog, ignoring the owner for the cuteness of the animal.
“Hey, speaking of the undead.” Eyes squeezed shut, Ivy shakes her head, lips pressed to a tight line, before she lowers her gaze from mine. “I’m sorry for the …Exorcistthing the other night. Jeez, I’m so mortified, I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“It’s okay. I like to think I exorcised your demons, or something.”
Smiling again, she looks away, making me wonder if she’s watching out for someone. Or maybe she’s just embarrassed to be talking to a priest in public.
With her head turned, I catch a purplish mark on her cheek and throat, dulled by what looks like a coating of makeup, slightly off tint from the rest of her skin tone. “Is everything okay?”
Snapping her attention back to me, she smiles wider, the unnatural stretch of her lips less genuine. “Look, I … don’t mean to be rude, but I’m gonna be late … and, well, asexcitingas it is in the basement, I can’t afford to lose my job.”
