A Prayer for the Devil (27 page)

Tired of overanalyzing, Luke turned on the radio just in time to hear a special bulletin being broadcast. “Another bombing has taken place,
this time in New York City.” Stunned, Luke jerked forward and listened intently. “A car bomb has just exploded in front of the Stock Exchange on Wall Street. At least fifteen people have been killed and many more injured. Police and antiterrorism units are on site.” Luke said a prayer.

Still driving, he listened to the same report over and over again. No one had claimed responsibility for the bombing, and lower Manhattan was closed to cars and trains. He knew it was a selfish thought, but now the FBI focus would be diverted from Boston to New York. Obviously there was little chance that he would have any help figuring out who killed his brother.

He merged onto I-195, which signaled that he would soon be on the Cape. When the GPS finally announced, “Your destination is on the right,” he pulled into the narrow driveway. The houses were modest compared to Trinity’s neighborhood, but even though they were only a few feet apart, they had the advantage of being situated directly on the beach. Noticing a bright orange Jeep in the driveway, he hoped that Vincent was home. He walked toward the wooden front step and saw old newspapers along the walkway and shoes on the front porch. The old boards squeaked as he approached the door.

Luke knocked a few times, but there was no answer. Peering around toward the back of the house, he thought he heard music, and he headed for it. The backyard contained a small brick paver patio littered with beer cans, but no sign of anyone. Returning to the front door, he turned the knob and it opened. He stuck his head inside and yelled, “Is anyone home?” When there was no reply, he yelled again. He heard a noise, and a few seconds later a tall young man, probably in his early thirties, walked into the living room. Seeing Luke, he was obviously annoyed when he said sternly, “Can I help you?”

Luke smiled and replied, “I’m Father Luke Miller from Saint Leonard’s Parish in Boston. Your sister gave me your address.”

“You’re not going to save me, Father; I know my sister has bought into all this God stuff, but I haven’t.”

“I’m not here to convert you. I’ve been doing some research on buildings in Boston and had a few questions about Corner Stone Builders.” Daring to be pushy, Luke continued, “Can I come in?”

Vincent waved his hand indifferently, and Luke entered the modest house. Sarcastically, Vincent asked, “Can I get you a beer, Father?” as he walked barefooted toward the kitchen.

Luke surprised him when he said, “That sounds great.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

Luke smiled. “I’m serious. Do you think priests only drink wine?”

Vincent returned and handed Luke a Corona.

“Thank you.”

Vincent said, “You wanna sit?”

Luke sat in a canvas sofa while Vincent flopped into a white bean-bag chair. After taking a slug of beer, he asked, “Well, Father Luke, how’s my perfect sister?”

Luke looked at him and replied, “She’s perfect.”

That made him smile. “Are you sure that you’re a priest?”

They both laughed.

“I think she misses you, and I know that she’s concerned about you.”

Vincent became serious. “I miss her, too. How well do you know her?”

“I only met her and your niece a few hours ago.”

Sitting up as best he could in the unstructured chair, Vincent asked, “How is Grace?”

Luke smiled. “She’s perfect, just like her mom.” He added, “She’s a beautiful, happy young girl.”

As Luke was talking, Vincent’s expression changed as he recognized him. “Hey, you’re the priest from TV. The one whose brother was killed.”

“Yeah, unfortunately, that’s me.”

“That sucks. Take it from someone who knows what it’s like to have someone in your family killed suddenly.” Luke agreed. They spent the next half hour bonding over their mutual sorrow. Luke found that he truly liked Vincent. He was smart, articulate, and interesting. Looking at his watch, Vincent asked, “Hey, why don’t we go get some dinner? There’s a place right down the street that has awesome food.” Luke gratefully agreed. He was starving.

VINCENT INSISTED ON DRIVING
, so Luke backed his Mercedes out of the narrow driveway and waited until the Jeep pulled out before pulling back in. As they entered the Bee-Hive Tavern, Luke was amazed at the greeting Vincent received. Men at the bar stood and came over to shake his hand. Women kissed and hugged him. Even the owner appeared and welcomed him. He introduced Luke to everyone, not only to be polite, but also because he was showing off that he was hanging out with a celebrity. Luke could tell that many people recognized him, but they were all courteous and friendly.

During the next hour, Luke decided one thing—that Vincent was no killer. Now he had to determine how much information he was going to tell him. After they ordered, Vincent noticed a small crowd of people standing around a television at the bar. He asked Luke, “Do you know what’s going on?”

“There’s been another bombing.”

Shocked, Vincent asked, “Where? Was anyone hurt?”

“At the Stock Exchange in New York City. The news said at least fifteen dead.”

“That sucks.” He looked directly at Luke. “I guess you’re one of the lucky ones, Father.”

Confused, Luke asked, “What do you mean?”

“When your time comes, you’ll be prepared. People like me will never be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

Vincent smiled. “You know, prepared to meet God.”

Engaged, Luke said, “Are you worried about not being perfect?”

“Well, yeah, I’ve had some issues in my life. I’m nowhere near perfect.”

“Only one person on earth was perfect,” Luke assured him. “His name was Jesus. Do you think that I haven’t sinned?” To make him understand, Luke asked, “Do you have any children?” Vincent shook his head no and Luke continued. “Well, let’s pretend that you have a son who is seven years old and he loves baseball. But unfortunately, he’s not the most coordinated child on the team. As a matter of fact, he’s really not a very good ballplayer. Would you be disappointed in him?”

Vincent thought for a few seconds. “Not if he was doing his best.”

“Exactly.” Luke smiled. “Well, how do you think God feels? He doesn’t expect you to be perfect—you never will be. But He wants to know that you are giving it your best. So, when we strike out, we must try hard to do better the next time. Don’t look back, look forward. Remember, He’s on your side no matter what. And remember one more thing—even your perfect sister Trinity isn’t perfect.”

Vincent considered this. He raised his wineglass, and Luke did the same. As their glasses touched, Vincent said, “Amen, Father.”

Luke was actually enjoying Vincent’s company and could tell that Vincent felt the same. Unfortunately, during dinner, they were constantly interrupted by Vincent’s friends, all wanting to talk to Luke
about the bombing. The lack of privacy meant that Luke would have to wait until they returned to the beach house before asking his questions.

After Luke paid the check, the restaurant owner stopped by again and asked to take a picture with them. Before Luke could protest, Vincent said, “Sounds great! Let’s get everyone in the shot.” Luke cringed but didn’t want to disappoint the crowd. After several photos were taken, however, Luke said, “That’s enough already! I’d really appreciate if these pictures didn’t end up in the newspaper. OK?”

On the drive home, Vincent asked, “What else did Trinity tell you about me?”

Luke answered honestly. “She said that you were a great person. She also said that you had some issues with painkillers and alcohol.”

“Anything else?”

Luke, not wanting to embarrass him with the details, said, “She told me about the last time she saw you, at Grace’s birthday party.”

Vincent frowned. “Well, Father, if you see her again, please let her know that I’ve been off the drugs for over two years. As you know, I still drink, but not in excess anymore.”

“Why don’t you call her? I have her number.”

Vincent laughed. “I don’t even have a phone. My entire life takes place within a fifteen-mile radius of my house. I have great friends and an easy life.”

“But,” Luke said, “no family.”

“Yeah, I know. You have a point.”

Entering the house, they relaxed in the family room. He had Vincent’s full attention now, so Luke related everything Trinity had told him about Corner Stone Builders. Luke asked, “Is there anything you can add?”

“I’ll tell you anything. Just tell me what you want to know.”

Luke knew that Vincent’s parents were gone before Blade said the bombs were buried in the park, so he asked, “Why don’t you start with when you took over the company?”

Vincent thought for a few seconds. “Well, once my parents were gone, it was frightening. I really didn’t know what to do. But the guys who worked for my dad for many years helped me through it. And Fatih was a big help.”

This was the opening Luke was waiting for. “How involved was Fatih?”

“To be honest with you, if it wasn’t for Fatih and his family, the company probably would have gone out of business. His father had a lot of connections with the Muslim community, and we started building all of the new mosques in the Boston area. Not only was the work interesting, it was extremely profitable.”

“Tell me more about Fatih. When was the last time you talked to him?”

Now getting suspicious, Vincent countered, “Why don’t you just tell me why you’re really here?”

LUKE GAMBLED THAT HE
could trust Vincent and decided to go for broke. “Are you a baseball fan?”

Vincent looked at Luke like he was crazy. “Isn’t everyone? I love the Sox. What does this have to do with anything?”

“Where were you in October of 2004?”

“I’ll never forget. I had my back operation the week before the playoffs and watched the games from my hospital bed. That’s when I got hooked on the pain pills. Why?”

“And Fatih was running Corner Stone?”

“Yes.”

“Did he also make the decision to have green crescents painted on your trucks?”

“Yes, Fatih thought it would be a good idea, being that almost all of our business was coming from building mosques. I didn’t care.”