Sacred Sins

image changed little. Studying herself, she wondered why she had chosen such a simple, such a suitable outfit. Her closet was full of them. She turned to the side and tried to imagine how she would look in something daring or outrageous. Like red leather.
    She caught herself. Shaking her head, she slipped out of the dress and reached for a padded hanger. Here she was—a grown woman, a practical, even sensible woman, a trained psychiatrist—standing in front of a mirror and imagining herself in red leather. Pitiful. What would Frank Fuller say if she went to him for analysis?
    Grateful she could still laugh at herself, she reached for her warm, floor-length chenille robe. On impulse she bypassed it and took out a flowered silk kimono. A gift, rarely worn. Tonight she was going to pamper herself, silk against her skin, classical music, and it would be wine not tea she took to bed with her.
    Tess put the choker on her dresser then pulled out the combs and lay them beside it. She turned down the bed and fluffed the pillows in anticipation. Another impulse had her lighting the scented candles beside her bed. She drew in a whiff of vanilla before she headed toward the kitchen.
    The phone stopped her. Tess sent it an accusing glance, but went to her desk and picked it up on the third ring.
    “Hello.”
    “You weren't home. I've waited such a long time, and you weren't home.”

    She recognized the voice. He'd called her before, at her office on Thursday. The thought of a self-indulgent evening at home slipped away as she picked up a pencil. “You wanted to talk to me. We didn't finish talking before, did we?”
    “It's wrong for me to talk.” She heard him draw in a painful breath. “But I need…”
    “It's never wrong to talk,” she said soothingly. “I can try to help you.”
    “You weren't there. That night you never came, you never came home. I waited. I watched for you.”
    Her head jerked up so that her gaze was frozen to the dark window beyond her desk. Watched. She shivered, but deliberately moved closer to look out at the empty street. “You watched for me?”
    “I shouldn't go there. Shouldn't go.” His voice trailed off, as if he were talking to himself. Or someone else. “But I need. You're supposed to understand,” he blurted out quickly, accusingly.
    “And I'll try to. Would you like to come to my office and talk to me?”
    “Not there. They'd know. It's not time for them to know. I haven't finished.”
    “What haven't you finished?” There was only silence as he dragged his breath in and dredged it out again. “I could help you more if you'd meet with me.”
    “I can't, don't you see? Even talking to you is… Oh, God.” He began to mumble. Tess couldn't understand. She strained her ears. Perhaps Latin, she thought, and put a question mark on the pad, circling it.
    “You're in pain. I'd like to help you deal with the pain.”
    “Laura was in pain. Terrible pain. She was bleeding. I couldn't help her. She died in sin, before absolution.”

    The hand on the pencil faltered. Tess found it necessary to ease herself into the chair. When she found herself staring blindly at the window, she forced herself to look down at her pad again, and her notes. Training clicked into place, and she schooled herself to breathe deeply and keep her voice calm. “Who was Laura?”
    “Beautiful, beautiful Laura. I was too late to save her. I hadn't the right then. Now I've been given the power, and the duty. The will of God is hard, so hard.” He almost whispered here, then his voice became strong. “But just. The lambs are sacrificed and the clean blood washes sin away. God demands sacrifices. Demands them.”
    Tess moistened her lips. “What kind of sacrifices?”
    “A life. He gave us life and he takes it. ‘Your sons and daughters were eating and drinking wine in the house of their eldest brother, when suddenly a great wind came across the desert and smote the four corners of the house. It fell upon the young people and then smote them; and I alone have escaped to tell you.’ I alone,” he repeated in the same terrible blank voice he had used to quote. “But after the sacrifices, after the trials, God rewards those who remain innocent.”
    As if she would be graded on them, Tess concentrated on making her notes clear and even. Her heart hammered away in her throat. “Does God tell you to sacrifice the women?”
    “Save and absolve. I have the power now. I lost faith after Laura, turned my