Last Breath Read Online Free

thing. He shouldn't even be curious.
    Her blue eyes were sometimes as cold as chips of ice, but right now they showed an amazing heat. Rage. This was such a completely new side of her to Brendan that he almost failed to greet her.
    “Well, well, well,” said Matt Diel, rising and facing her. “Chloe. It's been a while.”
    “Not long enough,” Chloe said flatly.
    Brendan looked from one to the other and wondered at the electricity he felt between them, not unlike the tingle in the air before a lightning strike. Antagonism?
    “You know we can't let him touch the body,” the detective said.
    “Sure you can.”
    “And it's none of your business.”
    Chloe stepped forward, her face mere inches from Matt's. “Oh, it's my business all right. It's my parish, my church. My priest wants to bless the victim. That's the victim's right.”
    “If he's Catholic.”
    Chloe made an impatient sound. “He is. Why else would he be nailed to that cross?”
    “The murderer …”
    “Oh, the murderer may be Catholic, too. But so is the victim. You mark my words.”
    “I can't have anybody messing with the DB. Forensics —”
    “Forensics is going to mess with the DB. And you know damn well that if they make a note of Father Brendan's viewing the body and blessing it, it isn't going to mess up a thing, Matt.”
    “Oh, hell.” Diel sighed. “How did you hear about this?”
    Chloe almost smiled, just a little lift of one corner of her mouth. “I have a scanner.”
    “I should have known. Okay, okay, I’ll talk to the criminologists.”
    “Do more than talk.”
    “Don't turn this into a religious issue.”
    “It
is
a religious issue.”
    To Brendan's surprise, Matt Diel actually grinned. “You're still tough as nails.”
    Her answering smile was chilling. “It's how I get by.”

Chapter 2
    As Matt walked back to the altar, Brendan looked at Chloe. “Thank you.”
    She shrugged. “I’ll hang around, Father. I know how to deal with these guys. I used to be one of them.”
    Which was the most forthcoming thing she'd ever said to him. He wondered if he would ever know her.
    “I need to make some calls,” he said. “The bishop.” Oh, God, the bishop! “And Lucy.”
    “Sure. Go ahead. I won't let them take him away before you get back.”
    “Thank you,” he said again, suddenly very grateful that this woman was made of steel. Right now he needed someone like her to depend on. “Do you think they can be done in time for Vigil?”
    “I’ll ask Diel. I think so. If they hustle.”
    He wondered if it mattered. If he would even be able to make himself hold the Vigil in this church, after this. “It might be better to use the parish hall.”
    “Maybe. Up to you, Father. But you better decide soon, because the people who were going to help decorate the altar are starting to arrive, and the cops are sending them away.”
    “How'd you get in?”
    “I have my methods.”
    He imagined she did. And for the first time in his life, he was grateful to escape a church.
    The relief followed him across the small courtyard to the rectory, where he sat at Lucy's desk and used her Rolodex to call her and Merv, and tell them to come in immediately. They were both home, thank heaven, and upon hearing what had happened, they promised to be right over.
    The bishop, well, he had to deal with the bishop's gatekeeper, a priest he had never really liked. A man who would undoubtedly hold it against him personally that something so revolting had happened at St. Simeon's.
    He did take some small satisfaction, however, in the way the monsignor's breath sucked in when he heard what had happened. This unhappy crucifixion might have happened at St. Simeon's, but the diocese would have to deal with it. That meant Monsignor Crowell, the alligator at the gate, would have to deal with the public relations nightmare. Sometimes there
was
justice.
    “What the hell is going on over there, Quinlan?” Crowell barked.
    “I told you, Monsignor.”
    “What