Sam Harlan (Book 3): Damned Cold Read Online Free Page B

Father Jameson looked exactly as I remembered—a medium-sized man in his late fifties, with broad shoulders, short sandy-blond hair, and wrinkles around his hazel eyes deep enough that they wouldn’t be considered laugh lines anymore.
    The man next to him was six inches shorter than me and in his late twenties. He had close-cropped black hair, brown eyes that looked abnormally large thanks to his black horn-rimmed glasses, and a neatly trimmed goatee that matched my own. Jameson wore jeans and a dress shirt while the young man was dressed completely in black.
    Both wore the white priest’s collar. Neither looked thrilled to see me.
    “Samuel,” Jameson said, starting to rise from the orange booth.
    I waved him back down and sat across from him, next to Callie. “Father.” I opened one of the paper bags and yanked out a hamburger, one-half pound of beef on a thick bun. I bit into it and barely chewed, then swallowed and took another bite.
    They watched me eat. Callie displayed no emotion, but the young man watched me with skepticism. Jameson frowned and started to speak, but I glared at him until he stopped. I continued until the hamburger was gone, then drank half my coffee in one long swig.
    The hamburger tasted good, much better than it had any right to. There was a part deep inside of me that wanted the hamburger to be less well-done and more bloody, but I tamped that part down and withdrew another hamburger. I took a big bite, chewed a little, then tipped the hamburger to the other priest. “Who’s the kid?”
    The young man started to speak but Jameson raised a hand and stopped him. “This is Ethan Mosley. He’s the priest at Saint Michael in Bement and the one who called for help.”
    “Uh-huh,” I said, then slurped more coffee to wash down the burger. “The kid calls you and you call me.”
    Jameson had a pained look on his face. “I’m sorry about Jack.”
    “You heard,” I said. “Why am I not surprised?”
    “I talked to Edmund shortly after,” Jameson said. “He told me what happened.”
    “Uh-huh,” I repeated. “Lewinheim’s a good man. But that’s not what you need, is it? You don’t need a good man.”
    Father Mosley shook his head. “I’m afraid we’ve made a mistake.” He turned to Jameson and said, “He’s no older than me. Surely there is someone else.”
    “You should be thanking God that he sent you Samuel,” Callie said, her soft voice carrying the hint of anger. “If the situation is as you fear, you’ll be begging for his help.”
    Jameson’s face softened. “I tried to warn you, Samuel. I told you what Jack might become.”
    I polished off the second hamburger and belched. “You did, Father. You surely did.”
    I drained the last of the coffee. It was bitter but not disagreeable. The change had messed with my sense of taste; a fact I had realized since September. I opened the second bag and took the last hamburger, then shoved the bag to Callie. She removed a chicken sandwich and fries and nodded gratefully.
    The two priests waited for us to finish. Mosley started to speak, but Callie would take another bite of her chicken sandwich and glare at him just as I had.
    Finally, I asked, “What makes you think you have a problem?”
    Father Mosley glanced at Father Jameson. “Are you sure about this?”
    Jameson ignored him, leaning forward and putting his hands on the table. “A woman is missing.”
    Before he could continue, I said, “Somebody’s always missing.”
    I saw Callie out of the corner of my eye. She didn’t speak, but I could tell she was waiting for me to continue. I sighed. “Tell me about it.”
    “Her name is Dorothy Hamm,” Jameson said. He eased back against the seat. “She’s been missing for two days. Her daughter contacted Ethan. No one has seen her. Neither friends nor family. Her sister doesn’t seem concerned, but the daughter is quite distraught.”
    “The sister isn’t worried, but the daughter is,” I said. I thought about