Eleventh Hour by Catherine Coulter Read Free Book Online

criminal?”
    “No, I’m not. That was just a bit of police humor. Here, drink a bit of water.”
    He cupped the back of her head, brought her up a bit, and put the paper cup to her mouth. She sipped at it, then said, “Thank you, no more.”
    Delion pulled up one of Lieutenant Purcell’s chairs, straddled it, waved Dane to the only other chair in the small room. Dane pulled it up next to the sofa.
    Delion said, “You here to tell us about Father Michael Joseph? You know something about his murder? You wouldn’t be the woman who phoned in the murder about midnight Sunday night, would you?”
    “Yes,” she said, unable to look away from Father Michael Joseph’s brother. She lifted her hand, touched her fingertips to his cheek, the small cleft in his chin. Dane didn’t move. She dropped her hand, swallowed tears. Dane saw that her fingernails were as ragged as her sneakers, her hands chapped. “You’re so like him,” she said. “I only knew him for two weeks, but he was always kind to me, and I know he cared about what happened to me. He was my friend. I’m not Catholic, but it didn’t matter. I was there Sunday night, in the church, when that man shot him.”
    Delion said, “Why the hell didn’t you come forward right away? Good God, woman, it’s Tuesday morning. He was murdered midnight Sunday.”
    “Yes, I know. I’m sorry. I had to call you from a public phone, and I finally found one that worked by a convenience store about two blocks from the church. I called nine-one-one, told the operator what I’d seen. But I couldn’t stay, I just couldn’t. This morning I knew I had to come and talk to you, that just maybe I could help, but I really don’t think so.”
    “Why couldn’t you stay and talk to us on Sunday night?”
    “I was just too scared.”
    “Why?”
    She didn’t say a word, just shook her head.
    “Okay,” Delion said, backing off for the moment. “I want you to take a deep breath. Get a hold of yourself. Now then, I want you to tell us everything that happened Sunday night, and don’t leave out a single detail. We need everything. Can you do that?”
    She nodded, closed her eyes a moment against the fearsome pain, the terror of Father Michael Joseph’s violent death.
    Dane watched her twist the old red wool cap between her long fingers, thin and very white.
    She stared down at that woolen cap as she said, “All right, I can do this. I was sitting in one of the front pews on the far side of the church, waiting for Father Michael Joseph to finish.”
    “So you came in after the man had already gone into the confessional?” Delion asked.
    “No, I’d been speaking to Father Michael Joseph, and he wanted me to stay, to talk to him when he’d finished hearing this one confession.”
    Dane said, “Was anyone else in the church?”
    “No, it was empty, except for the two of us. It was very dark. Father Michael Joseph left me, walked to the confessional, and went inside.”
    “You saw the person come into the church?”
    “Yes, I saw him. I didn’t see him clearly, mind you, but I could see that he was slender, lots of black hair, and he had on a long Burberry coat, dark. I wasn’t really paying all that much attention. I saw him go into the confessional.”
    “Could you hear either Father Michael Joseph or the other person speaking?”
    “No, nothing. There was pure, deep silence, like you’d expect in a church at night. A good amount of time passed before I heard a popping sound. I knew instantly that it was a gun firing.”
    “How’d you know it was a gun?” Delion asked. “Most people wouldn’t automatically think gun when they heard a popping sound.”
    “I went hunting a lot with my father before he died.”
    “Okay, what next?” Dane said.
    “Just a moment later the man came out of the confessional. I think he was smiling, but I can’t be sure. He was holding a big ugly gun in his hand.”

SIX
    She took another sip of water, trying to get herself together.