Fear the Wicked (Illusions Series Book 2)(49)
Anger burned me from the inside out, but I played along. “And let me guess…the Church covered up those crimes as well.”
Timothy eyed me closely. I didn’t know why his demeanor had changed so drastically between the sanctuary and now, but he resembled a man who didn’t believe the person sitting across from him.
“There was no prosecution, if that’s what you’re asking. I assume his death was good enough for the Church. They didn’t bother to seek answers to the odd circumstances of his death, either. I believe they agreed that he was a monster who needed to be stopped. Since the photos were never mentioned in the news, the entire situation was written off as handled.”
My face must have been blazing crimson for how hot I was. My anger had transitioned to naked fury, a truth I was sure was written all over my face. “How can you continue working for an organization that allows such travesties to take place? How do you reconcile your part in this, knowing how many people have been hurt and swept under the rug by a group of people who are supposed to be helping mankind?”
His expression hardened. “My allegiance isn’t to the Church. It’s to the Faith. And before you tell me there isn’t a difference, I’ll insist that there is. However, it’s hard to stand on a street corner and lead people to God. So, I’ve resigned myself to working within the confines of the Church to help the people I can. I don’t subscribe to the politics, and I’m never silent on issues that hurt people. I can promise you that nothing like what happened with those two monsters has happened again since I’ve taken over the parish.”
Searching his face for any sign that he was lying, I came away empty. Timothy was a truly good man, the type of priest that I’d never been able to be. If every person who’d worked in the parish when I’d grown up had been like him, I may have never lost my belief in God. He was the type of man who would have noticed the bruises, and I was sure he was the type of man who would have pulled my father aside and explained that the abuse wasn’t what God would have condoned. Based on that realization alone, I had to curb my anger because Father Timothy wasn’t the type of man who deserved it.
“Why did you think I would know how the priest died?”
Maybe he did know, after all…
The question had been floating in my head since the moment he mentioned I would know anything about the man’s death, and the lull in our conversation had given me the perfect opportunity to ask it.
So still that I wondered if he’d heard the question at all, Timothy stared across the expanse of his desk studying me. His eyes searched mine, eventually shifting down to search my face, my neck, the manner in which I held my shoulders. The silence between us was deafening and I could have sworn he was taking his time counting the beats of my breath as my chest pushed in and out in an unsteady rhythm. Finally, after several tense seconds had passed, Timothy opened his mouth to explain.
“While making a few calls and researching online about the location of the music director and priest, I also took a few minutes to look into a smaller parish in the Appalachian Mountains, a parish called Our Lady of Serenity.”
My brows pulled together in confusion, my mouth opening and closing again without voicing my question. Why in the hell was this man looking up the parish I’d once led? Why did it matter where I’d come from, where I’d lived before giving up the life of a priest?
“You seem a little stunned by the fact that I’d made the inquiry into your former parish. Or should I say your twin brother’s current parish…Jericho.”
My body flinched at the way he’d spoken my brother’s name, thoughts racing so hard that it took me a minute at least to decipher what he’d meant by the name.
But more than that, the realization that I was still named the priest of the parish in that small rural town stunned me so thoroughly that I was frozen in place, caught beneath the weight of the question as to why I hadn’t yet been replaced.
Ignoring his pointed accusation that I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t, that I was Jericho pretending to be Jacob Hayle, I worried about what his discovery meant for a parish located in the center of a sleepy town in the Appalachians.
“Did you call the Diocese to confirm the name of the priest at my former parish, or did you just look it up on the Internet?”
The corner of his lips tipped up. “I looked it up first and came to the conclusion that perhaps the website hadn’t yet been updated. I then called the parish to confirm, but nobody answered. I tried for two days before finally giving up and called the Diocese. It appears there was nothing to update because Father Jacob Hayle had never left the parish as you have claimed. That leaves me with one conclusion: You’re not Jacob, like you claim. You are Jericho Hayle, coming here and talking to me under the guise of being your twin brother.”
Shock and anger filtered through me, mixing and churning until it was a toxic solution spreading from the center of my chest, up into my head, out into my arms and to the tips of my fingers, down until it soured my stomach and trickled lower into my legs.
“Father Jacob Hayle,” I repeated slowly, “is still the priest at Lady of Serenity? You’re sure of this?”
He shook his head in disbelief, but rather than his expression denoting anger, it withered into soft sympathy instead. “Of course, I’m sure. I confirmed it with the Diocese, like I said. What I would like to know is why you’re here pretending to be somebody you’re not? I would have spoken to you regardless, Jericho. Would have given you the same information I gave when you claimed to be Jacob. I’m as angry as you are about what happened to you as a child in this parish, and I’m not concerned with the accidents both the music director and priest had later in life. That’s between you and God, and I’m in no position to cast judgment.” He relaxed against his seat even more, the leather creaking on the armrests as he pulled his arms down to his sides. “Hell,” he admitted on a resolute voice, “I probably would have done the same.”