opposite sides of his neck. Father Murphy falls forward from the force of the attackâone hand clutching a wound, the other pressing against the floor. Before he can look away from the dark green marble beneath him, a blade pierces the back of his right hand. The pain is blinding. He turns his head to the figure crouching beside him, then hears a gust of air as her arm moves quickly, like a door closing.
She arcs her left arm toward the ceiling in one fluid motion, slicing the knife deeply across his throat. She removes the other knife from his impaled hand and rolls him over. She carves a circle into his upper chest.
Â
Quando corpus morietur,
fac ut animae donetur
Paradisi gloria.
Â
Father Murphy watches the moonlight pass faintly through the stained glass above his head. He doesnât feel the rope knotted around his ankles, nor is he fully aware that his body is being hoisted from the railing of the staircase until he hangs upside down. His hand bleeds onto the green marble and white bulletins, staining Peterâs suffering red.
Â
Amen. Amen.
Amen. Amen.
Â
She must hurry now. Outside, the cool wind stings her cheeks as she runs to her car several blocks away. Her legs feel heavy. Sitting behind the steering wheel, she looks frantically for her keys, but itâs too late. Darkness. She collapses into the passenger seat.
NOVEMBER 16, 1986
10:43 A.M.
Her mother is a notorious worrier. Since moving home six weeks ago, Christina has gone out several times and not returned until morning. She never remembers where she has been, and her mother never believes her. When Christina was in high school, her mother once called the police and said three rosaries when her only daughter missed curfew by an hour and thirteen minutes. So it is no surprise that she is waiting at the kitchen table, rosary in hand, when Christina walks through the door.
âWhere have you been?â She doesnât wait for an answer. âI was so worried. How can you do this to me? You know I sit up all night, worrying, talking to Mrs. Lehntman on the phoneâyou remember Mrs. Lehntmanâher daughter just got marriedâand wondering, Should I call the police? Should I look for her? Or should I just find a new daughter!â
âMamaââ
âYou think youâre not a child anymore. That you can take care of yourself. But you canât. You leave Washington to follow your father and me here, but you wonât talk to either of us. You donât talk to any of your friends. Youâre tired all the time, Christina. I need to know whatâs wrong.â
âIâm sorry, Mama. This is just something I need to figure out myself.â
âIs it a man?â
âNo.â
âA young lady doesnât behave this way.â
âItâs not a man.â
âI keep asking myself, What am I supposed to do, and just yesterday I thought of Father Murphy. Iâll have her talk to Father Murphy. And then that terrible newsââ
âWhat news?â Looking at her motherâs face, Christina realizes that something else is wrong. âWhat news, Mama?â
âItâs been on the TV all morning.â Her mother becomes visibly upset as she gets up and turns on the small black-and-white television in the kitchen. A reporter holding a notepad is speaking in front of a church.
âFather Patrick Murphy was found murdered in the vestibule of Saint Peterâs Church in Durham, North Carolina, yesterday evening. Police believe that it happened sometime between seven and eight P.M ., while Father Murphy was hearing confession. At this time, officials are not releasing any details about the crime, but sources say that the victimâs throat was cut and his body bound with ropeâ¦.â
âHe was hung upside down.â Christina speaks in a monotone voice, without being conscious of the words.
âWhat?â
âI need a shower.â
âYou
Hundreds of Years to Reform a Rake