Divine Evil

himself back. “What for?”
    “I'll know when I see them.” He glanced up as Clare walked in. He shuffled papers on top of the report he'd just typed, then smiled at her. “Hi.”
    “Hi.” She didn't quite manage a smile. “Hello, Mr. Morgan.”
    “Hey there. Heard you're working on some big deal with a fancy museum.”
    “Looks that way.” She set the bag of books on the desk. “Am I interrupting?”
    “Nope.” Mick set his mug aside again. One look from Cam had told him the Parker business wasn't for open discussion. “Just chewing the fat.”
    “I'd like to talk to you,” she said to Cam, “if you've got a minute.”
    “I've got a few of them.” He could see trouble on her face and glanced at Mick.
    “Guess I'll be going on, then.” The deputy stood. “I'll check back in at seven.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Nice seeing you, Clare.” He gave her a little pat on the shoulder as he moved by her.
    “You, too.” She waited until he'd closed the door, then dived straight in. “I don't think this means anything. More than that, I don't think it's any of your business. But—”
    “Whoa.” He held up a hand, then took hers. “Should I suit up?”
    “I'm sorry,” she said more calmly. “It's just that I've had a go-around with Blair, and I'm not happy about the outcome.”
    “Want me to go rough him up for you?”
    “No.” This time she did smile a little. “I can do that for myself. Cam, I don't want you to think I was keeping this from you. I felt—still feel—that it's family business.”
    “Why don't you just tell me?”
    Instead, she took the books out of the bag and set them on his desk. He looked at them, one at a time. A couple he'd already seen, at Biff's or at the library. While he studied them, Clare lighted a cigarette.
    They were old, and obviously well used. Some of the pages were splattered with coffee or liquor stains. Passages were underlined, pages dog-eared.
    “Where did you get these?”
    She blew out smoke. “They were my father's.”
    With his eyes on hers, he set them aside. “Maybe you'd better sit down and explain.”
    “I'll stand up and explain.” She took another jerky drag and exhaled. “I found them boxed up in the attic. In my father's old office. I don't know if you were aware, but he was fascinated by religion. All religions. He also had books on Islam, Hinduism, stacks on Catholicism—any other
ism
you can name. Blair seems to think I should have brought these to you.”
    “You should have.”
    “I don't agree.” She put out the cigarette, snapping it in half. “But since Blair was adamant, I said I would. Now I have.”
    “Sit down, Slim.”
    “I'm not in the mood to be interrogated. I brought them to you, and you can make what you like out of it.”
    He studied her in silence. Her eyes were too bright, her mouth just beginning to tremble. Cam rose from his chair and walked around the desk. As she stood rigid, he put his arms around her.
    “I know this isn't easy.”
    “No, you don't know. You can't know.”
    “If I had a choice, I'd tell you to take the books and walk away so we could pretend this never happened.” He drew back. “I don't have that choice.”
    “He was a good man. I had to listen to people say terrible things about him once. I don't think I could stand it a second time.”
    “I'll do everything I can. That's all I can promise.”
    “I want you to try to believe in him. I want you to see that owning these books, reading them, studying them, even believing in some of what they say wouldn't make him a bad person.”
    “Then let me try to prove that. Sit down. Please.”
    She did, stiffly, her hands linked on her lap.
    “Clare, did he ever talk to you about these books or what's in them?”
    “No, never. He talked about religions. It was a big topic, especially after—after he started drinking. He went back into the church. He was raised Catholic, but he'd had a real attitude about organized religion because of the way he was raised.”
    “When did he go back to the church?”
    “When I was about seven or eight. It became very important to him. Blair and I ended up going to CCD classes and making our First Communion. The whole bit.”
    “That would have been about twenty years ago?”
    “Yeah.” She smiled wanly. “Time marches on.”
    He noted it down, wondering what events he could tie in. “Did you ever wonder why?”
    “Sure. At the time I was too young to think about it. And I liked the mass and the